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THE LIBRARY 

OF 

THE UNIVERSITY 
OF CALIFORNIA 

LOS ANGELES 



FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
ENDOWMENT FUND 







LETTERS 

ON 

LITERATURE, 

TASTE, 

AND 

COMPOSITION 

ADDRESSED TO HIS SON. 

"BY GEORGE GREGORY, D. D. 

LATE VICAR OF WEST-HAM, DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN TO 
THE BISHOP OF LLANDAFF, &C. &C. &C, 



IN TWO VOLUMES 
VOL. I. 



LONDON: 
''PRINTED FOR RICHARD PHILLIPS 

BRIDGE-STREET, BLACKFRIARS. 
1808. 

T. Gillet, Crown-court, 



TN45 



PREFACE. 



THE following Work is presented to 
the public as the last literary composi- 
tion which its well known Author lived to 
complete ; and it contains the result of 
various observations, made by a vigorous 
and cultivated mind, upon different sub- 
jects of taste and literature. It was con- 
cluded a very short time previous to his 
decease ; it assisted in cheering and en- 
gaging his mind, in soothing the languor 
of declining health, and in recalling the 
delightful remembrance of former asso- 
ciates, and of a long course of intellectual 
pursuits. To his friends these circum- 
stances will render the Work additionally 
valuable. They will, from the natural 
and best feelings of the human heart, 



765438 



IV PREFACE. 

cherish the relic which reminds them of 
those hours of social conversation when 
subjects of literature were discussed ; 
when they were illuminated by his scien- 
tific and enlightened mind, or exhilarated 
by his innocent and undissembled cheer- 
fulness. The public, we trust, will re- 
ceive the Work as the last performance 
of an Author whom they have long ap- 
pro vedj of one whose life was uniformly 
devoted to their, and his own, best in- 
terests : those of science, and literature; 
of religion, and virtue. 



VOL. I. 



LETTER I. 

Page 

Introduction. Principle of Association. Plea- 
sures from the Fine Arts 1 

LETTER II. 

Style u 

LETTER III. 

Sources of fine Composition - -21 

LETTER IV. 

The Sublime - - - . -28 

LETTER V. 

The Pathetic - 40 

LETTER VI. 
The Ludicrous ... 47 



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LETTERS 

ON 

LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION. 



LETTER I. 

Introduction. Principle of Association. 
Pleasures from thejine Arts. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

WE live in an age when almost every thing 
is artificial. When not only rules are proposed 
for the performance of almost every action con- 
nected with social life, but when the grounds 
and principles on which those rules are founded 
constitute an object of anxious inquiry. Men 
have long agreed in regarding some things as 
pleasing ; but not satisfied with this, we are led 
to inquire whence they have derived their power 
to please, and on what principle in human na- 
ture it is that certain appearances, sounds or 
ideas are delightful to the human mind. 
VOL. i. B 



2 INTRODUCTION. 

The pleasure which is imparted by the fine 
arts, and their power over the mind, are founded 
upon certain principles. We have not yet in- 
deed been enabled to mount to the source whence 
their controul over the passions is derived ; but 
by observing carefully certain effects, we can 
generally foretel when these effects will be pro- 
duced. Music is perhaps the simplest of all the 
fine arts : its power is derived entirely from the 
influence of certain sounds upon the organs of 
perception. It is impossible to say why some 
sounds or combinations of sound should be 
termed pathetic ; why some should excite hi- 
larity ; why some should be adapted to the 
passion of love, and why others should be assi- 
milated to joy and triumph ; yet so it is, and 
there is scarcely an ear so insensible to har- 
mony as not to have proved the force of music 
on one occasion or another. These effects upon 
the ear have been compared, and perhaps not 
without reason, to certain impressions produced 
upoa our other senses. 

" That strain again ; it had a dying fall, 
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing, and giving odour." SHAKS, 



PRINCIPLE 0F ASSOCIATION. $ 

To the eye some appearances, and even some 
colours, are productive of pleasure. It is ex- 
tremely difficult to analyze the sensation, and to 
account for the pleasing effect of some flowers 
more than others ; it depends upon the comb?- 
nation and arrangement of colours ; upon the 
regular disposition of the petals; upon some 
unknown circumstance even independent of the 
principle of association, something as uncon- 
nected with ideas of social pleasure or pain, as 
the vibrations of an ^Eolian harp. 

I find I have casually mentioned the word 
association, and it is necessary perhaps to enter 
upon a short explanation of it, since those plea- 
surable sensations, which may properly be 
called mental, and consequently those which 
are derived from the reading of poetry, or the 
beauties of composition in general, are not 
simple but complex sensations, derived, at least 
in part, from certain associations Avhich the mind 
has formed with other objects. 

It is exceedingly obvious that two or more 
sensations happening at the same time, the 
ideas will become united. Thus the ideas of the 
figure and colour of bodies admitted by the eye 
are always combined, and these may be still as- 

B2 



4: PRINCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION. 

sociated with another idea admitted by means of 
the touch. Thus the idea, or picture formed 
in the mind of any object, is complex, or com- 
posed of several ideas united : of figure, colour, 
and perhaps softness or hardness also. If music 
is heard while we behold the instrument, the 
sound will be associated with the visible ap- 
pearance, and the former will recal the idea of 
the latter, even when we do not see the instru- 
ment. Names are associated with things, and 
things with actions. 

On this principle of association depends the 
necessary succession of ideas in a train, of which 
any one may satisfy himself by attending to the 
operations of his own mind : ideas are intro- 
duced by an agreement in some of the parts of 
which complex ideas are composed. Shak- 
speare, describing a merchant's fears, says, 

" My wind, cooling my broth, 
" Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
" What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
" I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
" But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
" And see my wealthy Arg'sie dock'd in sand. 

" Should I go to church, 
" And see the holy edifice of stone, 
" And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks?" 



PIUNCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION. 5 

The association and train of ideas is perhaps 
still more pleasantly illustrated by .a story re- 
lated by Hobbes. " In a discourse on our pre- 
sent civil war (that in the reign of Charles I.), 
what," says he, " could seem more impertinent 
than to ask, as one did, the value of a Roman 
penny. Yet the coherence was to me suffi- 
ciently manifest. The thought of the war in- 
troduced the thought of the delivering up of 
the king to his enemies ; the thought of that 
brought in the thought of the delivering up of 
Christ ; and that again the thought of the thirty 
pence which was the price of that treason ; and 
thence easily followed that malicious question, 
and all that in an instant of time ; for thought 
is quick." 

I hope sufficient has been said to make you 
acquainted with what is meant by the associa- 
tion and train of ideas ; and what may appear 
a digression is in reality more connected with 
our subject than at first sight may appear. 
For much of the pleasure derived from the fine 
arts, and particularly from poetry and oratory, 
may be resolved, in part at least, into the prin- 
ciple of association. Many of the human pas- 
sions are chiefly, if not entirely, derived from 



O PLEASURES FROM 

it. Thus patriotism, or the strong attachment 
which almost every person feels for his country, 
is in a manner created from the pleasurable sen- 
Cations derived in our earliest youth from the 
enjoyments we have found there. The sight of 
the place where we have been happy always re- 
vives in us a placid, perhaps a melancholy idea 
of pleasure. 

But it is not necessary in a course of letters 
on rhetoric and criticism, to enter deeply into 
the philosophy of the human mind, of which, 
after all, but little is known ; and my wish is 
rather to make these letters practical than spe- 
culative. The pleasures afforded by the fine 
arts, music, painting, and poetry, have been 
termed ** the pleasures of the imagination," 
in contradiction to the sensual pleasures, though 
J confess music appears to approach very near 
to a mere pleasure of the sense ; and it is per- 
haps from its connexion with poetry, or rather 
from its subservience to it, that it has been class- 
ed among the superior arts, or those which ad- 
minister pleasure to the mind. 

The pleasures of the imagination are almost 
all in a considerable degree the result of associ- 
ation. If it \fas possible to present a finely 



THE FINE ARTS. 7 

pictured landscape to a person who had never 
seen a natural landscape, one who had been 
born blind, and who was recently couched for 
instance, I much doubt whether he would de- 
rive from it any other pleasure than that which 
its novelty would afford. I question whether 
the harmony of the colouring, so much spoken 
of by painters, or the light and shade, would 
afford any peculiar pleasure. It is the recol- 
lection that is revived of the beauties of nature, 
of the happiness we have enjoyed in similar 
scenes, or possibly of that which we have heard 
described as flowing from them, and perhaps an 
admiration of the excellence of the imitation, 
that principally inspire us with pleasurable sen- 
sations on such an occasion. 

Hence the fine arts, and particularly paint- 
ing, sculpture, and poetry, have been termed 
the " imitative arts," because their chief ex- 
cellence depends upon their being an imitation 
or description of whatever is beautiful or strik- 
ing in nature. 

To apply all this to the immediate object of 
our correspondence. Nothing is more obvious 
than that some books are more pleasing than 
others; some forcibly occupy our attention, 



8 PLEASURES FROM 

; 

while some inevitably tire and disgust* It is 
very easy to see why a narrative or description, 
a fine history or a well-told fiction, a tragedy 
or a romance should interest. It is because it 
affords us a picture of ourselves, or of something 
in which our passions are naturally engaged. 
But why one composition should be even more 
pleasing in its manner than another, why the 
style and language of an author should parti- 
cularly interest us, is a more curious inquiry, 
and more remote from common observation. 

Should we be able to satisfy ourselves upon 
this subject, it is probable that even a practical 
benefit might result from it, since a person who 
is acquainted with the sources whence those ma- 
terials are derived which render a composition 
pleasing, will be better able to avail himself of 
them than one who writes at random, and with- 
out any knowledge of his ar,t. 

I am not one of those who affect to " write 
dull receipts how poems should be made." I 
know that the most intense study will not give 
what is called genius, or imagination, or fancy ; 
but still I must assert that every intellectual en- 
dowment may be improved. I must assert 
that writing, as far as chasteness, correctness, 



THE FINE ARTS. 9 

elegance, and fluency are concerned, is as 
much an art as any other ; that it is in a great 
measure acquired by practice and study, by an 
imitation of the best models, and by occasion- 
ally referring even to principles and rules. 

That this is an undoubted truth must be con- 
fessed by any person who observes how much 
more numerous good, or at least tolerable writ- 
ers, are at present in this country than (hey 
were two centuries ago. Nature must create a 
Shakspeare, a Milton, a Pope, a Swift, an Ad- 
dison, a Johnson or a Gibbon. These were 
men possessed of most powerful imaginations, 
most pregnant fancies ; but it is chiefly art 
which produces the many smooth and elegant 
writers who flourish at all times in the inferior 
walks of literature. I knew a very old gentle- 
man of considerable talent who used to say, that 
in his youth it was a distinction to write well ; 
but that now even the essays in the common 
newspapers were composed in a correct and 
agreeable style. 

What I have now observed ought not to 
lessen the value of this accomplishment of writ- 
ing well in your opinion. The more general 
it is, the more indispensable it becomes. To 

B5 



10 PLEASURES FROM THE FINE ARTS. 

be able to maintain an epistolary correspond- 
ence, with elegance and spirit, is now an essen- 
tial qualification in the character of every gen- 
tleman, I had almost said of every lady. Be- 
sides, that all public speaking, in whatever 
line, is a species of composition, and he will 
certainly be the most successful \vho> if pos- 
sessed of equal talents with his competitors, has 
made himself well acquainted with the rules 
and principles of eloquence. 



STYLE. 11 

LETTER II. 

Style. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

MY last letter concluded with recommending 
an inquiry why the style of one author should 
be more pleasing and interesting than that of 
another. If instruction was the sole end of 
reading, that style which conveyed knowledge 
in the simplest terms, with the greatest clear- 
ness and correctness, would be preferable to 
every other. This style has indeed its value, 
and even its beauty ; and in books of mere 
science ought to be preferred to every other. I 
shall have in future to make some observations 
on this subject, when I treat more particularly 
of the different kinds of composition ; but this 
is not our present object. We are now consi- 
dering the source of that pleasure which is de- 
rivable from the mere style, manner, or language 
of a literary production. 

Authors have distinguished between the d if- 



12 STYLE. 

ferent styles ; and a grand division is into the 
plain, such as I have just now described, and 
the ornamented. I apprehend it is chiefly the 
ornamented that contributes to the mere plea- 
sure of a reader. You cannot be at a loss to 
know what I mean by an ornamented style; it 
is that in which lively description, similies, al- 
lusions, metaphors, and the other figures of 
rhetoric abound. 

Poetry always interests a reader of taste more 
than prose. The causes of this are the har- 
mony arising from the metre or the rhyme, 
and which (without entering into a metaphysi- 
cal inquiry as to the cause) may be referred to 
the same source as the pleasure which music af- 
fords. The other circumstance which renders 
poetry pleasing is the animated and figurative 
language, which is one of its characteristics. 

We may, I think, easily explain why the 
style of one literary work is more pleasing than 
that of another, upon the very same principles 
that the matter of one is more interesting than 
that of another. I observed that histories of 
great events, tragedies, or ingenious fictions of 
human actions and events, always interest more 
than any other literary productions, and the 



STYLE. 13 

reason is, that they contain something that im- 
mediately comes within the sphere of self, and 
engages, and by an associated action excites 
our passions. 

It is of but little consequence whether the 
subject is fiction or reality. Robinson Crusoe, 
George Barnwell, and even Don Quixote, not 
to speak of the incomparable novel of Cecilia, 
interest, I will venture to say, more than Livy 
or than Hume. The same may be said of those 
plays of Shakspeare, which are notoriously 
founded on fiction, Hamlet, Othello, Cymbcl- 
line, Lear, the Merchant of Venice, &c., which 
are certainly not less interesting than his plays 
founded on the English history, though the 
latter are so far correspondent to fact, that 
many of the speeches are nearly a literal tran- 
script from the antient chronicles. 

It is the picture of the little world within that 
interests and agitates us ; it is that correspond- 
ent emotions are at once excited in ouf^minds 
by what we see or what we read, without re- 
ferring to the judgment, or examining the proofs 
as to the reality of what is presented to us. 

The very same principles I apprehend will 
apply to what is called an animated style, as 



14: STYLE. 

lo an animated or interesting narrative or de- 
scription. That style will engage us most 
which calls up the most lively and vivid images, 
which upon the principle of association shall 
excite corresponding emotions in our mimls. 

I can cite a very decisive proof of what I 
have now asserted, in the well-known and in- 
comparable parable of the prophet Nathan. 
The effect of this parable, I assert, is princi- 
pally owing to the style or manner in which it 
is narrated ; and to prove it, we need only re- 
late the circumstance in the usual manner of a 
newspaper paragraph. 

" We haw it from the best authority, that 
Christopher Saveall, of the county of Salop, 
esq. the other day being surprized by the visit 
of a London friend and his family, and not be- 
ing immediately supplied with butcher's meat, 
and not chusing to take any of his own flock, 
they being of a curious breed, dispatched two 
of his servants to the house of Timothy Boor- 
man, a little farmer in the neighbourhood, who 
took forcibly thence, a pet lamb, which they 
immediately killed and dressed for the enter- 
tainment of the great man's guests." 
Here is nothing particularly affecting ; and 



STYLE. 15 

yet in England such a circumstance is more 
likely to excite interest and indignation, than 
in any of those countries where the feudal sys- 
stera is at all predominant. It must then be 
from the styk or manner that this narrative has 
so powerful an effect over the heart, that a per- 
son of sensibility can scarcely read it without 
a tear. Let us examine. 

" There were," says the prophet to the royal 
sinner, not yet a penitent, " two men in one 
city; the one rich and the other poor." Here 
the different state and circumstances of the two 
parties are admirably contrasted, and it affords 
a beautiful and striking opening to thft narra- 
tive which is to follow. u The rich man," he 
proceeds, " had exceeding many flocks and 
herds." Here is a fine amplification, and yet 
so far from appearing forced it is absolutely ne- 
cessary, and the contrast is still preserved in 
the succeeding sentence : " But the poor man 
had nothing save one little ewe lamb" where, 
observe, the words u nothing," " little," ?.nd 
even the word " cue," which marks thcsvx, as 
more gentle and defenceless, are all emphatic, 
and increase the interest <f which he had 
bought," bought it out of his little savings, it 



16 STYLE. 

was indeed his all, " and nourished up, and it 
grew up with him, and with his children." 
What a train of endearing and affecting ideas 
are here summoned together ? Not only the affec- 
tions of the man, but of his children, are sup- 
posed to be attached to this cherished object. 
" It did eat of his own meat, and drank of his 
own cup, and lay in his bosom ;" here the very 
nature and kind of the animal is forgotten, and it 
becomes almost a rational creature ; which is in- 
deed nearly established in the conclusion of the 
sentence, for " it was unto him as a daughter." 

Thus the hearer's mind is prepared by a se- 
ries of pathetic imagery to feel in a tenfold de- 
gree the cruel sequel which is coming, and 
which is also not less skilfully wrought up. 
" And there came a traveller unto the rich 
man, and he spared to take of his own flock, 
and of his own herd, to dress for the way- faring 
man that was come unto him, but took the poor 
man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that 
was come to him." 

Nothing I apprehend need be added to con- 
vince you of the different effects to be produced 
by the manner of telling a very simple story, in 
other words, of the effect of style. 



STYLE. 17 

From this example too you will see the truth 
of an axiom, which is, I believe, generally ad- 
mitted. That it is by a clear and distinct re- 
capitulation of little circumstances, which ren- 
der the picture more vivid and complete, that 
poets and orators, and all who address the pas- 
sions of their hearers, establish an influence over 
their minds. 

To select the circumstances which will have 
most effect is the peculiar province of genius ; 
for there is nothing in which folly is more dis- 
played than in too circumstantial a detail of 
trifling matters ; while, on the contrary, it is 
certain that a discourse (and much more a poem) 
which consists entirely of abstract and general 
words, can never have an effect upon the hearer 
- and reader. 

I shall subjoin another instance of a picture 
composed of a variety of little, but well-chosen 
circumstances. An historian might have said, 
in allusion to the shocking murder of Prince 
Arthur, the real heir to the crown, in the reign 
of King John : " This event produced a ge- 
neral agitation in the minds of the people; 
scarcely any conversation occurred in which it 
was not directly or indirectly alluded to, and 



18 STVLE. 

thus the people were prepared for the occur- 
rences which we have to relate." But our in- 
comparable Shakspeare produces an assemblage 
of imagery, which while it entertains and en- 
gages, leaves a strong impression on the mind : 

" Old men, and beldams, in the streets 

" Do prophesy upon it dangerously : 

" Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ; 

" And when they talk of him they shake .their heads, 

" And whisper one another in the ear; 

" And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist ; 

" Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action 

*' With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 

" I saw a smith stand with his hammer thus, 

M The whilst his iron did on his anvil cool, 

" With open mouth swallowing a taylor's news ; 

" Who with his shears and measure in his hand, 

" Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste 

" Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet) 

" Told of a many thousand warlike French, 

*' That were embattrled and rank'd in Kent ; 

** Another lean unwash'd artificer 

" Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death." 

Much of the satire conveyed in Hogarth's in- 
comparable prints is found in the minute cir- 
cumstances which he introduces. I need only 
mention the coronet, which is so carefully dis- 
played on the crutches of the gouty peer in 



STYLE. 19 

Marriage A-la-mode. I think therefore I may 
advance as an admitted truth, that a style is 
interesting and impressive in proportion to the 
variety of vivid images it presents, provided 
they are strictly connected with the subject, 
and calculated to excite corresponding emotions 
in the mind. 

You must carry in your mind that I am 
now speaking of that style which pleases, and 
not of that which instructs. The work which 
engages our attention by its matter is extremely 
different from that which is extolled for its ele- 
gance of style. I will not pretend to assert that 
there is not a certain degree of beauty consist- 
ent with the utmost plainness and simplicity, 
but this is a beauty of a different kind ; and 
productions which possess it will, as I stated, 
be only read for their matter. I am speaking 
at present of those sources whence the orna- 
ments or decorations of style are derived. 

One, who was himself a philosopher,* has 
very justly remarked, that " One reason why 
philosophers seldom succeed in poetry may be 
that abstract ideas are too familiar to their 

* Dr. Priestley, 



STYLE. 

minds. They are perpetually employed in re- 
ducing particular to general propositions, a 
turn of thinking very unfavourable to poetry." 
And you will observe that all ornamented dic- 
tion, every thing that is called eloquence, ap- 
proaches more or less to the nature of poetry. 



SOURCES OF FINE COMPOSITION. 21 

LETTER III. 

Sources of fine Composition. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

METAPHYSICAL writers have generalized and 
classed the various sources whence the plea- 
sures of the imagination, and the ornaments of 
style are derived. They are all to be traced 
into the human passions, for, as I observed, it 
is by exciting correspondent emotions in their 
minds that the imagery employed by any writer 
affects and interests his readers. The same phi- 
losophers have endeavoured to explain why the 
excitement of moderate emotions, such as are 
produced by the sight of a tragedy, should be 
a source of pleasure. The best cause I can as- 
sign for this is, that life itself consists chiefly in 
action, and it is only when in some degree 
occupied or engaged, that we feel the pleasure 
of living. Violent action or agitation, on the 
contrary, pains and fatigues. Hence the mo- 
derate excitement of the passions on the sight of 



22 SOURCES OF 

a tragedy, or the hearing of a pathetic narra- 
tive, gives pleasure, whereas the same event in 
real life is productive of pain. Whether this 
account, however, is consistent with truth and 
nature or not, will make little difference as to 
the. practical part of our subject. It is enough 
that pleasure is derivable from the following 
sources, and that what is captivating in writers 
may in general be traced to one or other of 
them: 1st, The marvellous; 2d, the new; 3d, 
the sublime ; 4th, the pathetic ; 5th, the ridi- 
culous. 

1 . Our taste for the marvellous is chiefly to be 
referred to that general principle of our nature, 
which is so strong a principle of action, the 
passion of admiration. *It may also be increased 
by the same cause from which I have account- 
ed for the pleasurable sensations excited by 
tragedy. Almost every thing wonderful is con- 
nected with something of the terrific, and we 
know that terror moderately excited, or I should 
perhaps say, rather excited by association than 
reality, is not less productive of pleasure than 
the pathetic. You must well remember the 
pleasure which you, but a very few years since, 
derived from the " Fairy Tales/' the " Arabian 



FINE COMPOSITION. 23 

Nights," the " Tales of the Genu," &c., and 
that in general the more you were terrified the 
greater was your enjoyment of the book. 

You will always find pleasure from similar 
productions, but less as you advance in life. 
Your mind was more fervid, and less informed 
when you read them first than it will be at the 
period to which I refer. You will then be 
more shocked with their improbability, for the 
more this kind of imagery is believed in, the 
more vivid is the impression which it makes. 
Hence an obsolete system of mythology, such 
as that of the heathen poets, has less effect upon 
our minds than a modern well-wrought tale of 
witchcraft or apparitions, which are more con- 
nected with the faith lhat we profess ; and even 
these had more effect, I dare believe, with our 
ancestors than with us. 

The taste which all mankind naturally enter- 
tain for the marvellous is proved by the avidity 
with which any extraordinary story, even in 
the newspapers, is received, and the credit 
which is given (o such. People are desirous 
of their proving true, and almost displeased to 
be undeceived. 

A great part of the entertainment of our rural 



24 SOURCES OF 

ancestors used lo consist in hearing such won- 
derful stories related while assembled in a so* 
cial circle round a warm hearth. The tales 
and ballads related or sung by the minstrels of 
old, were chiefly of this description : 

" Be mine to read the visions old, 
" Which thy awakening bards have told ; 
" And lest thou meet my blasted view, 
" Hold each strange tale devoutly true." 

The effect of the marvellous on the human 
mind is charmingly depicted by that incom- 
parable judge of human nature, Shakspeare, in 
describing the manner in which Desdemona 
was induced to love Othello. 

" Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ; 

" Still question'd me the story of my life, 

" From year to year, the battles, sif ges, fortunes, 

"ThatlhavepassM: 

" I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 

" To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 

" Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, 

" Of moving accidents, by flood, and field ; 

" Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ; 

" Of being taken by the insolent foe, 

" And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence, 

" And 'portance in my travel's history, 

" Wherein of antres vast, and desarts wild, 



SfYLE. 25 

17 Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch 

heaven, 

" It was my hint to speak, such was the process; 
" And of the cannibals that each other eat, 
" The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
" Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to 

hear, 

" Would Desdemona seriously incline: 
" But still the house affairs would draw her thence; 
" Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, 
" She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
" Devour up my discourse," &c. 

II. The love of novelty is nearly allied to the 
principle we have been discussing, and it will 
be easily conceived to be a powerful instrument 
in the hands of a skilful writer or speaker, 
when we remember ho\y strong and how gene- 
ral a passion curiosity is. The word itself has 
supplied a name to a very voluminous class 
of literary productions, the professed object of 
which is to gratify their readers with some- 
thing wore/ or new. This passion seems indeed 
natural to creatures, who are in constant pur- 
suit of happiness, and to whom possession brings 
only disappointment; and perhaps it may not 
be unphilosophically accounted for upon this 
principle. The pleasure we derive from no* 

VOL. i. c 



26 STYLE. 

velty is something analogous to that which we 
derive from wit, and the more unexpected the 
greater our pleasure. 

It was characteristic of the eloquence of Mr. 
Burke, that the novelty of his thoughts and al- 
lusions always struck and engaged his hearers. 
I have seen, in the midst of a grave debate, the 
whole house agitated as by a shock of electri- 
city, by some new and unexpected sally. These 
were sometimes of a witty, and sometimes of 
a serious description. But in either way, I be- 
lieve there never was an orator of whom novelty 
and originality of thought was so unequivo- 
cally the attribute 

If however novelty is so powerful an instru- 
ment in the hands of genius, there is nothing in 
which young and incompetent writers will so 
much expose themselves as in attempting it. 
Yet some authors of very secondary talents 
have acquired much temporary and transient 
fame, by an air tf novelty. Among the.se, I 
cannot but rank the author of Tristram Shandy, 
the Sentimental Journey, &c. In these most 
unclassical productions, we see all regard to 
connexion and arrangement thrown aside; the 
reader is frequently left to help himself to a 



STYLE. 27 

f 

meaning, or, if there is one, it is such as no two 
men understand alike ; sentiment is strangely 
mingled with attempts at wit, and both intro- 
duced with little apparent design. 

I was proceeding to treat, in the third place, 
of the sublime, but I perceive that if I intro- 
duced it here I should greatly exceed my li- 
mits. 



28 THE SUBLIME 

LETTER IV. 
III. The Sublime. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

WHEN you recollect that an author, who 
deservedly occupies the first place among cri- 
tics, has written a whole treatise on the sublime, 
you will probably wonder at my boldness, when 
I presume to confine so important a subject 
within the short limits of a letter. But you 
will remember that these letters arc intended 
only as an introduction to the more voluminous 
writers on criticism. Longinus too extends his 
notion of the sublime much further than I do, 
indeed almost to all that is excellent in serious 
composition. 

Perhaps etymology is in general a better 
guide to truth than definition. The title which 
the invaluable treatise of Longinus bears is / 
<r,v^ " of the lofty or high." To this you 
know the Latin word sublimitas perfectly cor- 
responds, and our word sublime : though I 



TUB SUBLIME. 29 

think the grand would express it better in. our 
language. Perhaps Horace has nearly defined 
it, in describing the character of a real poet 

" Ingenium cui sit, cui mens divinior, atque os 
" Magna soniluruffl) des nominis hujus honorem." 

HOR. lib. i. sat. 4. 

" Is there a man whom real genius fires, 

" Whom the diviner soul of verse inspires; 

" Who talks true greatness Let him boldlyxlaim 

" The sacred honours of a poet's name." 

FRANCIS. 

The sensation of the sublime is experienced 
when we survey a very large arid lofty moun- 
tain, a vast extensive plain, a very wide and 
rapid river ; and I believe it is felt by every 
person when he first contemplates the expanded 
ocean. 

The works of art can sometimes give us the 
sensation. I never find myself \\ithin the long 
and lofty aisle of a fine Gothic cathedral, with- 
out experiencing it ; and I conceive it would 
be impossible to survey even one of the great 
pyramids of Egypt, without a similar feeling. 

The convulsions of nature inspire ideas of the 
sublime. On feeling an earthquake, or survey- 



SO THE SUBT-IME. 

ing the eruption of a volcano, the sensation 
must be the sublime, with a mixture of terror. 
On viewing a thunder-storm at a distance, 
something of the same kind is experienced. 

"Who but rather turns 

"'To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 
" Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame ? 
" Who that from alpine heights, his lab'ring eye 
" Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey 
" The Nile or Ganges roll his wasteful tide, 
" Thro' mountains, plains, thro' empires black with 

shade, 

" And continents of sand, will turn his gaze 
" To mark the windings of a scanty rill 
"That murmurs at his feet?" AKENSIDE, 

Even ideal contemplations will sometimes 
affect us in a similar manner. Such are the 
ideas of infinite space and eternity. 

" In vain do we pursue that phantom time, 
too sinalf, and yet too mighty for our grasp ; 
when shrinking to a narrow point it 'scapes our 
hold, or mock's our scanty thought by swell- 
ing out to all eternity: an object unpropor- 
tioned to our capacity, as is thy being, O thou 
antient cause ! Older than time, yet young with 
fresh eternity ! 



THE SUBLIME. 31 

" In vain we try to fathom (lie abyss of space, 
the scat of thy extensive being 1 , of which no 
place is empty, no void which is not full." 

SHAFTSBURY. 

The same sensation is excited in us by sen- 
timents and passions. Striking instances of 
magnanimity, generosity, fortitude, courage 
and patriotism are sublime. Of these, per- 
haps, the finest instance that ever was pointed 
out is our Saviour's last prayer for his ene- 
mies '" Father, forgive them, they know not 
what they do." 

Sublimity may exist either in the sentimenf, 
or the expression. When in the former, it is 
either displayed in the greatness and sublimity 
of the subject itself, or in the circumstances 
under which it is described. In the latter case, 
sublimity of expression, it will chiefly depend 
on the splendour and magnificence of the ima- 
gery by which the subject is illustrated. 

In the first case, where the grandeur of the 
subject is the principal source of the sublime, a 
brevity of language, combined, if possible, with 
force and simplicity, is absolutely necessary, as 
in the famous instance quoted by almost every 
critic from Longinus to the present time : " And 



32 THE SUBLIME. 

God saidj let there be light and there was 
light." But the whole of that chapter is in- 
comparably sublime. 

Innumerable instances are to be found in 
Scripture of this species of the sublime, parti- 
cularly in the Psalms and the books of the pro- 
phets, and especially in Isaiah and the book of 
Job. Such is that noble description of the Al- 
mighty Power in the 104th Psalm : 

" Who layeth the beams of his chambers in 
the waters, who maketh the clouds his chariot, 
who walketh upon the wings of (he wind." 

I cannot believe the story which is related of 
Dryden, that he said he would rather be the 
author of the following translation by Stern- 
hold and Hopkins, than of any poem in the 
English language 

Oa cherub and on seraphim 

Full royally he rode, 
And on the wings of mighty winds, 

Came fhing all abroad." 

If I am any judge of the false sublime, I find 
it in the two first of these lines, where a truly 
grand and magnificent idea is entirely degraded 
by the meanness of the imagery and expres- 
sion. 



THE SUBLIME. 33 

In the 6th and 7th verses of the same Psalm, is 
a fine instance of the sublime, alluding, as I 
apprehend, to the deluge 

" Thou coveredst it (the earth) with the deep 
as with a garment : the waters stood above the 
mountains. At thy rebuke they fled, at the 
voice of thy thunder they hasted away." 

Such also is the fine expression of Isaiah 

" And the heavens shall be rolled up as a 
scroll." 

And another in the Psalms 

" He looketh on the earth and it trembleth ; 
he touchcth the hills and they smoke." 

An instance of this branch of the sublime as 
applicable to human character, will be found 
in Horace 

" Et cuncta terrarum subacta, 

" Praeter atrocem animum Catonis." 

Lucan has the same thought 

" Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni." 

That species of the sublime, which arises 
principally from the adjuncts and circum- 
stances, is so frequently mixed with that which 
is produced by the greatness and dignity of the 
c5 



34 THE SUBLlMfi. 

subject r that it is difficult sometimes to separate 
them. In the following passage m the 139th 
Psalm, which I think the finest instance extant 
of the sublime, I scarcely know whether to at- 
tribute the effect to the dignity of the subject, 
or to the grandeur of the adjuncts and circum- 
stances 

" Whither shall I go from thy spirit ? 

" And whither shall I flee from thy presence? 

" If I ascend the heavens, thou art there ; 

" If I make my bed in the abyss, behold thou art there ! 

"If I take the wings of the morning, 

" And dwell in the extreme parts of the ocean-; 

" There also thy hand shall lead me, 

"And thy right hand shall hold me." 

The strong expressions of the two last lines* 
have commonly escaped the notice of critics 
But how forcibly do they impress us with the 
idea of the omnipresence of God ? Wherever 
we are, we arc in his actual custody and keep- 
ing, in his hand: " There also shall thy hand 
lead me, and thy right hand shall keep me." 

Bishop Lowth, in his admirable lectures on 
the poetry of the Hebrews, points out the fol- 
lowing as an instance of the true sublime, and 
J thi/ik it may class with the preceding 



THE SUBLIME. 35 

" Tell in high, harmonious strains, 

" Tell the world Jehovah reigns ! 

" He who framed this beauteous whole ; 

" He who fix'd each planet's place ; 

" Who bade unnumbered orbs to roll, , 

" In destin'd course through endless space. 

rt Let the glorious heavens rejoice, 

" The hills exult with grateful voice; 

" Let ocean tell the echoing shore, 

" And the hoarse waves with humble voice adore ! 

" Let the verdant plains be glad ! 

" The trees in blooming fragrance clad ! 

" Smile with joy, ye desert lands, 

" -And rushing torrents, clap your hands ! 

" Let the whole earth with triumph ring ! 

" Let all that live with loud applause, 

" Jehovah's matchless praises sing. 

" He comes ! he comes ! Heaven's righteous King, 

" To judge the world by truth's eternal laws." 

You will easily perceive lhat this is only a 
paraphrase, or rather a translation from the 
Psalms. 

There is no author who will furnish you with 
finer examples of this branch of the sublime 
than Virgil. The description of the Storm in 
the first book; the allegorical description of 
Fame, or rather of Rumour ; the Sack of 
Troy in the second book ; and almost the whole 



36 THE SUBLIME. 

of the Descent to the Infernal Regions in the 
sixth, are pregnant with fine examples of the 
sublime in description. Of the sublime in ex- 
pression, the following lines afford, in a short 
compass, a very fine instance, and yet with 
very little pomp of imagery. They are from 
the prophecy of Anchises of the future glories 
of Rome. 

" Excudent alii spirantia mollius sera, 

" Credo equidem: vivos ducent de marmore vultus; 

" Orabunt causas melius ; coelique meatus 

" Describent radio, & surgentia sidera dicent ; 

4t Tu regere imperio, populos, Romane, memento : 

" Hs tibi erunt artes ; pacisque imponere morem, 

" Parcere subjectis, &c debellare superbos." 

JEN. lib. vi. v. 

" The subject nations, with a happier grace, 
" From the rude stone may ea 1 the mimic face, 
" Shine at the bar, describe the stars on high, 
" The motions, laws, and regions of the sky - 
" Be this your nobler praise in time to come, 
" These your imperial arts, ye sons of Rome ; 
" O'er distant realms to stretch your awful sway, 
" To bid those nations tremble and obey ; 
*' To crush the proud, the suppliant foe to rear, 
" To give mankind the peace, or shake the world with 
war." PITX, 



THE SUBLIME. S7 

Critics have established a further distinction 
with respect to the sublime, in what they call 
the still sublime, and the sublime of passion. 
The former however is the true sublime, though 
we find this quality not unfrequently mingled 
with each of the different passions. The fol- 
lowing, from a work which yields not in subli- 
mity to any thing in the English language, 
without excepting the Paradise Lost, will serve 
as a specimen of what I term the still sublime. 
It will also serve as an example of the sublime 
in expression, as the imagery and epithets are 
exceedingly rich 

" Night, sable goddess, from her ebon throne, 

" In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 

" Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 

" Silence how dead ! and darkness how profound t 

'* Nor eye nor list'ning ear can object find. 

" Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 

" Of Life stood still, and nature made a pause : 

*' An awful pause, prophetie of her end. 

" And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd : 

41 Fate, drop the curtain. I can lose no more. 

NIGHT THOUGHTS, 

x 

Of the sublime of passion we have a very fine 
instance in a speech of Othello 



THE SUBLIME. 

" Had it pleas'd Heaven 
" To try me with afflictions ; had he rain'd 
" AJ1 kinds of sores and shames on my bare head;' 
" Steep 1 d me in poverty to the very lips ; 
" Given. to captivity me and my utmost hopes: 
" I should have found in some part of my soul 
" A drop of patience" 

In the same piny, and in the impassioned 
scenes of Lear, many other fine examples will 
be found. 

An author, whose fine taste and brilliant ima- 
gination will ever be admired, and to whose 
memory his country has still stronger obliga- 
tions, has written an elegant treatise on the dis- 
tinction between the sublime and beautiful. The 
pleasure which is afforded by the contemplation 
of beauty appears a pure and unjmixcd pleasure 
arising, from the gentler agitation, and is less vi- 
vid than that produced by (he sublime. The 
sublime also differs from the beautiful,* in being 
only conversant with great objects. It differs 
from the pathetic, in affording a more tranquil 
pleasure. The sublime and beautiful are, how- 
ever, frequently mixed, and seem to run iato 
each other ; as in that enchanting simile of Ho- 



THE SUBLIME. 39 

mer, into which Mr. Pope has transposed more 
of the beautiful than is in the original 

" As when the moon, refulgent km p of night, 

" O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light; 

" When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, 

" And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene. 

" Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 

" And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole;. 

" O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, 

" And tip with silver every mountain's head; 

" Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, 

" A flood of glory bursts from all the skies. 

" The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, 

" Eye the blue vault, and bless the sacred light." 

POPE'S ILIAD. 

Of some descriptions also it is not easy to de- 
termine whether they belong: to the sublime or 
the pathetic. Such is the short delineation by 
St. Luke, of the feelings of the multitude on the 
sufferings and crucifixion of our Lord " And 
all the people that came together (o that sight, 
beholding the things which were done, smote 
their breasts and returned," 



40 THE PATHETIC. 

LETTER V. 

IV. The Pathetic. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

IN my last letter I intimated that the sublime 
is often connected with the pathetic, though I 
confess the greater passions assimilate more 
readily with sublime ideas than the tender and 
sympathetic. 

The force of pathetic composition arises from 
that fine sense which the Author of our nature 
has implanted in us for the wisest and best of 
purposes, which engages us as social beings to 
partake in the feelings of others; to " rejoice 
with those who do rejoice, and to weep with, 
those who weep 3" or, as a heathen writer ex- 
presses it, 

" Mollissima corda 

" Humano generi dare se natura fatetur, 
" Quse lachrymas dedit." JUVENAL. 

" Compassion proper to mankind appears, 

" Which nature witnessed when she gave us tears." 

TATE, 



THE PATHETIC. 41 

Ft is of little consequence whether the tale 
that excites this sensation in us is real or ficti- 
tious. It is the general sentiment that is in- 
stantaneously called into action, and we do not 
slop to consider and to reason upon it ; it is 
sufficient if it is only natural. 

As is the case with the sublime, there are two 
principal circumstances which are productive 
of this affection : First, when the story or sen- 
timent is sufficiently striking of itself, by re- 
ducing all the circumstances into as narrow a 
compass as possible, and causing them to flash 
at once upon the mind. Of this, Livy's ac- 
count of the death of Lucretia may serve as an 
example: in which the short sentence " Con- 
clamant vir, paterque," has a great effect. An 
injudicious writer would in this case have in- 
troduced long and laborious speeches, and have 
destroyed both nature and pathos. 

The other mode of exciting pathetic feelings 
is by dilating on the subject^ and bringing to 
view every tender and pathetic circumstance. 
For an historical example of this, I need only 
refer to the description of Agrippiria's return 
after the death of Germanicus, in Tacitus. A 
charming example also may be found in the 



! THE PATHETIC. 

Song of Deborah and Barak, in the book of 
Judges, where the mother of Sisera is described 
as anxiously expecting his return : 

" Through the window she looked and cried out, 
" The mother of Sisera through the laUice ; 
" Wherefore is his chariot so long in coming? 
" Wherefore linger the wheels of his chariot ? 
" Her wise ladies answer her; 
j "Yea she returns answer to herself: 

" Have they not found have they not divided the 

spoil, 

" To every man a damsel, yea a damsel or two? 
" To Sisera a spoil of divers colours, 
" A spoil for the neck, of divers colours of needle*- 

worii." 

It depends upon the taste and skill of the 
writer to employ that mode of exciting pathetic 
emotions which is best adapted to his subject-. 
The circumstantial method, though the most 
general, and indeed the most powerful, is very 
apt, in unskilful hands, to become frigid de- 
clamation. I never, on this account, could ad- 
mire the French tragedies. Racine has less of 
bombast than Corneillc, and Voliaire perhaps- 
than either. 

There are some circumstances, the anticnt 



THE PATHETIC. 43 

critics would call them common-places, "which 
when judiciously resorted to, will be found 
very productive of pathetic emotions. 

hi. When innocent and helpless persons are 
involved in ruin. To introduce an infant on 
the stage in a tragedy, though a common trick, 
is seldom destitute of effect. If however there 
are many to participate in the misfortune, the 
partnership in sorrow seems to lessen its weight. 
The scenes between Arthur and Hubert in King 
John, are exquisitely touching; and the pathos 
in Othello is greatly heightened by the youth 
and innocence of Desdemona, and her absence 
from her father and her relations. 

2d. A violent abruption from a state of en- 
joyment : 

" Now warm in love, now with' ring in my bloom, 
" Lost in a convent's solitary gloom ! 
" There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, 
" There died those best of passions, love and fame." 

POPE'S ELOISA. 

3d. The recollection of past happiness, or 
happiness that might have been attained but 
for some intervening circumstance, is a fine 
source of the pathetic. On this are founded 



44: THE PATHETIC. 

some of our best tragedies See the Orphan, 
also the last act of the Fair Penitent 

" Still as thy form before my mind appears, 

" My haggard eyes are bath'd in gushing tears; 

" Thy loved idea rushes to my heart, 

" And stern despair suspends the lifted dart. 

" O could I burst those fetters which restrain 

" My struggling limbs, and waft thee o'er the main, 

" To some far distant shore, where ocean roars 

" In horrid tempests round the gloomy shores; 

" To some wild mountain's solitary shade, 

" Where never European faith betray'd." 

THE DYING NEGRO. 

4th. Absence from persons very dear. The 
whole of that inimitable poem, Mr. Pope's 
Eloisa, affords a fine example of this ; and par- 
ticularly the following lines ; 

" No fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole ; 

" Rise Alps between us, and whole oceans roll ! 
" Ah ! come not, write not, think not once of me." 

5th. Exile 

" Methinks we wandering go 

" Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, 
" Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps, 
" And low-brow'U rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps." 

ELOJSA. 



THE PATHETIC. 45 

Cth. Inattention to self in extreme distress, 
and solicitude for others. Thus Lear to Kent 
in the storm 

" Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease 

" Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, 

<s That bide the pelting of this pity less storm, 

" How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 

'" Your loop'd and windowed raggedness defend you 

" From seasons such as these." 

Such also is the exhortation of our Saviour : 
" Daughters of Jerusalem weep rrot for me but 
for yourselves and for jour children." 

The Holy Scriptures, which I hope, both as 
a man of virtue and of taste, you will never 
cease to read, contain perhaps the very finest 
instances extant of the pathetic. Who can 
read aloud the parable of the prodigal son, and 
not shed a tear ? Of Nathan's parable I have 
already spoken. 

The tender is a branch of the pathetic, in 
which however misery or sorrow are not neces- 
sary adjuncts. Here a relief from sorrow, or 
expected sorrow, is a powerful instrument. 
Thus Goldsmith, who in the tender excels al- 
most every modern writer : 



46 THE PATHETIC. 

" Forbid it Heaven, the hermit cried, 

" And clasp'd her to his breast ; 
" The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide, 

" 'Twas Edwin's self that press'd. 

EDWIN AND ANGELINA. 

The tender however \vill sometimes be found 
in a scene of perfect tranquillity ; and it must 
be remarked that the expression of tenderness 
is the great excellence in the fine Madonna's 
of the Italian school of painting. In the Scrip- 
ture, the finest examples of this will also be 
found, as for instance, Isaiah xlix. 14, 15. 

" But Zion said, the Lord hath forsaken me, 
and my Lord hath forgotten me Can a wo- 
man forget her sucking child, that she should 
not have compassion on the son of her womb : 
yea, she may forget, yet will I not forget 
thee." 



THE LUDICROUS. 47 

LETTER VI. 

V. The Ludicrous. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

THE transition from the pathetic to the lu- 
dicrous will appear rather violent, though, if 
you take Dr. Hartley's opinion on the subject, 
laughing and crying are more nearly allied 
than is vulgarly supposed. u Laughter^ says 
he, " is a nascent cry raised by pain, or the 
apprehension of p'ain, suddenly checked, and 
repeated at very short intervals." I do not, 
however, press the doctor's opinion upon you ; 
for really if I was called upon for an example 
of the ridiculous, I do not know that I should 
not quote this passage as soon as any of the no- 
tions attributed to the mock philosophers, so 
happily ridiculed by Butler who knew 

" Where entity and quiddity, 
" The ghosts of defunct bodies, lie ; 
" Where truth in person does appear, 
" Like words congeal' d in northern air," 



48 THE LUDICROUS. 

" Who knew the seat of paradise, 
" Could tell in what degree it lies 
" What Adam dreamt of when his bride 
" Came from the closet in his side," &c. 

It may serve to shew you, however, the ge- 
neral inanity of metaphysical speculations, 
which I advise you by all means to avoid, and 
to what lengths of folly human reason will go, 
when it pretends to account for every thing. 

" Though we discard, however, Dr. Hartley's 
theory of the ridiculous, yet I think we may 
fairly say that it always arises from a striking 
contrast suddenly brought before the mind by 
an unexpected combination or association of 
ideas. Contrast alone, unless connected with 
the terrific or some strong passion, has a, ten- 
dency to excite risible emotions. Children 
whose animal spirits are very active, and whose 
perceptions are vivid, will frequently be dis- 
posed to laugh, at seeing a man with oiie leg 
much thicker than the other, or at an animal 
with only one ear. One of the finest instances 
of strong sublime contrast that I remember, was 
when Mr. Burke, in one of his speeches in the 
house, called the extravagant French reformers 
" Architects of ruin ;" and Pope affords an in- 



LUDICROUS. 

'Stance of witty contrast in his ridicule of Ti* 
mon's villa 

" Lo! what liuge heaps of littleness around; 
" The whole a laboured quarry above ground.'* 

The contrast must not however be too vio- 
lent, nor must it involve any thing of too seri- 
ous a nature, for in that case, a different train of 
ideas would be excited, which would destroy 
the ridiculous effect. A better instance it is 
impossible to give than the celebrated distich 
from the great master in wit and humour, the 
point and ridicule of which is wholly inde- 
pendant of the double rhime. 

" When .pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, 

" Was beat with fist, instead of a stick/* 

And again^ 

rf We grant, altho' he had much wit, 
" He was very shy of using it; 
" As being loth to wear it out, 
" And therefore bore it not about, 
'*' Unless on holidays or so, 
" As men their best apparel do." 

In these instances, the contrast is strong be- 
tween a pulpit and a drum ; and wit and a suit 
6f cloathes. Yet, in the first instance, both 
(the pulpit and the drum) were made use of to 

VOL. I. D 



50 THE LUDICHOTJS, 

excite a multitude to arms ; here was a curious 
agreement found out, and both were beaten^ 
but the ridiculous contrast is again brought to 
view, the one was beaten with a fat, the other 
with a stick. 

In the other quotation there is a mixture of 
irony ; for it is meant to imply that Sir Hudi- 
liras had no wit at all, but was in reality, as 
described in another place, 

" a tool 

" Which knaves do work with, called a fool." 

Yet the drollery is exquisite in the agree- 
ment which the writer finds out between the 
parsimony of his hero, and that of a miser 
with respect to his holiday suit. The irony 
is displayed particularly in the couplet : 

" As being loth to wear it out, 

" And therefore bore it not about," 

On the subject of irony I shall have some- 
thing more to add, when I treat of the figures 
of rhetoric. 

Metaphysicians have established three rela- 
tions as influencing the chain of our ideas upon 
different occasions, there are 1st. Contiguity 



THE LUDICROUS. 51 

i>i time of place, 2d. Cause and effect. 3d. 
Resemblance or contrariety.* 

Under these heads may be correctly classed, 
the various causes of that fanciful agreement 
which produce risible emotions. I. Under 
that of contiguity we may arrange, 

1st. Bodily singularities, including a gro* 
tesque dress or manner. 

2d. Groups of contrasted figures, such as 
an old popular caricature which I remember, 
of " A Macaroni Alderman and his Rib." 
The one a squat bloated figure dressed in the 
extravagance of fashion, the other an extremely 
tall and meagre female in a dress remarkably 
prim and formal. I may instance another which 
is yet popular, " A country Clown placed be- 
tween a Counsellor and an Attorney." 

3d. A confused assemblage of incongruous 
ideas, such as often takes place in a play to 
which you used to be partial, Cross Purposes; 
and in the ross readings of the newspaper 
columns. Of this kind of humour some ex- 
cellent specimens were afforded by the writers 
of the Rolliad, the Probationary Odes, &c. 
4th. Mearrness and dignity brought together 
* See the Economy of Nature, b. x. c. 4r 



52 THE LUDICROUS. 

in contact. Under this head we may class the 
anticlimax, and what the writers of Martinus 
*Scriblerus style the bathos one of the hap- 
piest specimens of which is, 

" And thou Dalhousie, the great god of war, 
" Lieutenant-colonel to the earl of Mar." 

Perhaps I might add a specimen from Mr. 
Pope himself 

" Grac'd as thou art with all the pow'r of words, 
" So known, so honour" d in the house of Lords." 

II. Under cause and effect we may place, 

1st. Ironical reasoning, and much also of 
-what is called analogical reasoning, which is 
often as ridiculous as fanciful. As for in- 
stance 

" What does it signify (quoth Alberius) 
whether my nephew exceeds in the cursus or 
not ? Speed is often a symptom of cowardice, 
witness hares and deer." MEM. OF MART. 
SCRIB. 

2d. Cause and effect not corresponding with 
each other whence 

3d. Ridiculous hyperbole and rant 

" Behold a scene of misery and woe ! 
" Here Argus soon might weep himself quite blind, 
" Ev'n though he had Briareus hundred hands, 
** To wipe those hundred eyes." 



THE LUDICROUS. 53 

* He roar'd so loud, and look'd so wondrous grim, 
" His very shadow durst not follow him." 

4th. Much of what is called caricature 

" Some have been beaten till they know 
" What wood a cudgel's of by the blow ; 
" Some kick'd, until they can feel whether 
" A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather." 

HUD. p. ii. 1. 2. 

III. But of all the relations that of resem- 
blance is the most fruitful of ludicrous ideas. 

1st. Of these^ the more fanciful and unex- 
pected the resemblance, the greater in general 
will be the effect. Thus Butler describes the 
horse of his hero ? 

" The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,, 
" With mouth of meal and eyes of wall ;: 
" f would say eye, for h'ad but one, 
" As most agree, though some say none. 
" He was well stayM, and in his gait, 
* Preserv'd a grave majestic state. 
" At spur or switch no more he skipt, 
" Nor mended pace, than Spaniard wlript; 
" And yet so fiery, he would bound, 
" As if he griev'd to touch the ground ; 
" Thus Caesar's horse, who as fame goes, 
" Had corns upon his feet and toes, 
" Was not by half so tender hooft, 
" Nor trod upon the ground so soft 



TilE LUDICROUS. 

" And as that beast would kneel and stoop 
" (Some write) to take his rider up ; 
" So Htidibras his ('tis well-known) 
" Would often do to set him down." 

The -whole spirit of this passage, you will 
easily see, depends on the allusions. The ma- 
jestic state of the horse, which scorned to mend 
his pace, contrasted with the tenderness of his 
feet, and the comparison with that of Caesar, 
are highly ludicrous. 

Contrariety, or contrast, is classed under the 
same head of association, by logical writers, as 
resemblance,, and of the witty application of 
this we have a fine instance in the four last 
lines which I have just quoted ; and in the foU 
lowing from Swiffis verses on his death., 

" My female friends, whose tender hearts 

11 Have better learn'd to act their parts, 

" Receive the news in doleful dumps : 

" The Dean is dead (pray what is trumps ?) 

" The Lord have mercy on his soul ! 

" (Ladies I'll venture for the vole). 

" Six deans they say must bear his pall,. . 

" (I wish I knew what king to call). 

" Madam, your husband will attend 

" The fun'ral of so good a friend ? 

w No madam, 'tis a shocking sight, 

** And he's engag'd to -morrow night ; 



THE LUDICROUS. 55 

" My Lady Club would take it ill, 

" If he should fail her "at quadrille. 

" He lov'd the Dean (I lead a heart) ; 

" But dearest friends, they say, must part.'* 

The most fruitful source of the burlesque 
and the mock-heroic is, when the allusion is 
from the great to the mean or little. 

" The Greeks renowned,, so Homer writes, 

" For well-soaled boots, as well as fights." HUD. 

The order is reversed, however, in some in- 
stances of the mock-heroic, as in the Lutrin of 
Boileau, and the charming Rape of the Lock* 

" This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, 
" Nourish'd two locks, which graceful hung behind 
" In equal curls, and wt-11 corrspir'd t&deck 
" With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck. 
" Love in these labyrinths her slaves detains, 
" And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. 
" With hairy springes we tlie birds betray, 
" Slight lines of hair surprise the fiuny prey ; 
" Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare, 
" And beauty draws us with a single hair." 

In these lines, and in all the poem,- a slight 
circumstance is magnified into something of 
apparent importance. The card party is an- 
admirable instance in point 



5> 2J1E LUDICROUS* 

" Behold four kings in majesty reverM, 

" With hoary whiskers and a forked beard ; 

" And four fair queens whose hands sustain a flower, 

" Th' expressive emblem of their softer power ; 

" Four knayes in garbs succinct, a trusty band, 

" Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand ; 

4< And party-colour'd troops, a shining train, 

" Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain." 

I recommend to your perusal the whole de- 
scription of the card party, in which the allu- 
sion to a battle is finely supported. 
I may add a more ludicrous example : 
" The kettle-drum, whose sullen dub, 
" Sounds like the hooping of a tub." HUD. 

In all the instances of the ridiculous which I 
Lave quoted, you will easily see that the sud- 
denness of the combination forms the thief 
merit of the witticism, as in the description of 
the horse from Butler, where the author ap- 
pears to correct himself. 

" I should say eye, for h'ad but one, 
" As authors write, though some say none." 
A witty as well as most eloquent senator of 
our own times, has often employed this stroke 
of humour with infinite effect, appearing sud- 
dently to correct himself, when he would in* 
sinuate something in an indirect manner. 



THE LUDICROUS. 57 

Crftics are not entirely agreed in defining 
the distinction between wit and humour. I 
am inclined to think it is more accurate to class 
risible objects as I have classed them, as de- 
pending upon the different sources of mental 
association. But if it was absolutely necessary 
to make the distinction, I would call that wit 
where the unexpected comparison or combine 
tion is made in the very words, as in the pas- 
sage of Hudibras, quoted by, I think, LortE 
Kaimcs 

" The sun had long since in the lap 
" Of Thetis taken out his nap ; 
" And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn 
" From black to red began to turn." 

Also what Dryden makes his renegado say of 
priests, which by the way is stolen by Mr. 
Jlume in one of liis essays 

" And having found what Archimedes want- 
ed, a new world to rest on, you move this 
world as you please " 

I would call that humour, on the contrary, 
when the mind of the hearer or reader is only 
led to make the comparison or combination, 
itself. Thus when a ludicrous character is de- 
picted, the reader's mind of itself opposes to it 

D5 



58 



THE LUDICROUS. 



the proper character. I may instance the two 
following lines : 

" And the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate, 
" Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat." 

Where a number of opposite ideas are imme- 
diately excited without being expressed. I 
may quote also the description of Hudibras's- 
dagger 

" It was a serviceable dudgeon, 

" Either for fighting or for drudging. 

" When it had stabb'd or broke a head, 

" It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread ;; 

" Toast cheese or bacon, though it were 

" To bait a mousetrap, 'twould not care. 

" 'Twould make clean shoes, or in the earth 

" Set leeks, and onions, and so forth. 

" It had been 'prentice to a brewer, 

" Where this and more it did endure ; 

" But left the trade as many more 

" Have lately done on the same score." 

During the nine last lines the mind is con- 
stantly making a comparison between the low 
uses to which it has been applied, and the pro- 
per uses of a dagger. 

This appears to me the proper cause of the 
power of irony, thX'the reader's mind is con- 
stantly making a Comparison between, the al- 



THE LUDICROUS. 59 

leg-ed motives, or character, and the real ones. 
Take as an instance Arbuthnot's account of 
what passed in London when the comet wa& 
expected : 

" If the reverend clergy shewed more con- 
cern than others, I charitably impute it to their 
great charge of souls ; and what confirmed me 
in this opinion was, that the degrees of appre- 
hension and terror could be distinguished to be 
greater or less, according to their ranks and 
degrees in the church." 

To the same cause we may attribute often 
the ludicrous effect of cant and low phrases, 
namely, that the mind contrasts them with the 
proper ones 

" For which the stubborn Greeks sat down, 
" So many years before Troy toivn." HUD, 

" Sir Hudibras had but one spur, 
" As wisely knowing could he stir 
" To active trot one side of's horse, 
" The other would not hang an arse." 

This definition of wit and humour will ac- 
cord with the two homely lines of Buckingham,, 
when speaking of comedy 

" Humour is all, wit should be only brought, 
<f To turn agreeably some proper thought." 

ESSAY ON POETRT, 



60 THE LUDICROUS 

There is an inferior species of wit, which re- 
sults from confounding the proper and figura- 
tive meaning of an expression, as in these lines 
of Butler : 

" While thus the lady talk'd, the knight 
" Turn'd th' outside of his eyes to white, 
" As men of inward light are wont 
" To turn their optics in upon't." 

This species of wit would scarcely stand the 
test which Mr. Addison proposes for real wit, 
that of being translated into another language. 
It approaches indeed very near to the pun,. 
which I need not inform you is a play upon, 
words according, to the different senses in which 
they are used. Of these we have many in- 
stances in Shakspeare, such as Falstaff's ad- 
dress to the prince, when he accosts him in the 
character of king: "God save thy grace; 
majesty. I should have said, for grace thou 
wilt have none." 

Even the chaste and correct Pope is not 
above a pun 

x " Here thou great Anna, whom three realms obey> 
" Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea." 



LANGUAGE. 62 

LETTER VII. 

Language. Perspicuity. -Purity*. 

MY DEAB, JOHN,. 

HAVING laid before you the principal mate- 
rials or rather sources of good writing, I must 
now call your attention to a subject, which I 
fear you will think less interesting- and enter- 
taining, the correct and elegant use of lan- 
guage. 

The only foundation of a good style, as far 
as respects the use of words, is an extensive and 
accurate knowledge of the language in which 
we write. One of the principal advantages 
resulting from a knowledge of the dead lan- 
guages indeed is, that it acquaints us with the 
etymology of the many words which are de- 
rived from them,, and that is often the most 
certain guide to their correct application. A 
knowledge of the Saxon, which is not difficult 
in attainment, should be added, as well as of 
French, to make a man perfect master of the 



62 LANGUAGE. 

radicals of his own language. Yet even this 
is not enough ; he must also carefully mark 
the different senses in which words are used by 
the best authors. Etymology will only lead 
us to the literal sense ; but the figurative senses 
are so various, that in some words the original 
and literal meaning is almost forgotten. 

Johnson's Dictionary, which is indeed the 
best Thesaurus I ever saw of any language, 
will greatly assist you in this respect. It ought 
to lie on the table of every young writer. I 
have often found great amusement in turning 
over its leaves^ and observing the different uses 
to which the same word has been applied ac- 
cording to the genius of different writers. It 
affords also an encouragement to this kind of 
study (which would otherwise be what is called 
dry)) by the beauty and utility of the quo- 
tations which the author employs to illus- 
trate his definitions. To Dr. Johnson every 
subsequent English author owes unutterable 
obligations. He has made straight the paths 
of British literature, and has even strewed them 
with flowers. 

But a true command of language is at last 
only to be gained by a diligent perusal of the 



LANGUAGE. 63 

best authors. Rules and precepts may enable 
you to avoid some faults, but they never cant 
give elegance and freedom ; that magic power 
which calls up at once the most appropriate 
terms, and arranges them in the best order. 
On this account young writers should be wise 
in their choice of books, and read none which 
are not written in the best style, at least while 
employed in the immediate study of composi- 
tion. I have thought that I derived much ad- 
vantage from accustoming myself before I sat 
down ta compose, always to read a few pages 
in some good writer, whose spirit I should wish 
to catch, as best adapted to the subject on which 
I was to write. I have heard it said of that 
great master in the art of painting, Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, that he always finished his most ex- 
quisite paintings with some picture of the an- 
cient masters near him, which harmonized with, 
his subject, and not only kept his imagination 
in correspondence with it, but even served to 
invigorate and maintain the enthusiasm of 
genius. 

A young writer should however not peruse 
cursorily, but study intensely the best authors. 
When you read an animated and fine descrip- 



PERSPICUTy. 

tion,.it may be of service to lay down the book, 
and pause and consider how you would have 
tlescribed the same scene, or the same action ^ 
whether you would have chosen the same 
figures or phrases, or placed the object in a 
similar light. 

Style may be divided into two kinds, the 
plain and the ornamented. To a perfect style 
of either description three qualities are indis- 
pensibly necessary, perspiouit?/, purity and 
harmony ; and the plainer the style the more 
indispensible are these requisites. 

" By perspicuity (says Quinctilian) care is 
taken, not that the hearer may understand if he 
will ; but that he must understand whether he 
will or not." Many authors plead the nature 
of their studies as an excuse for not being per- 
spicuous ; but as writing clearly depends on 
our ideas being clear, it can never be an ex? 
cuse to say to the world, we do not understand 
the subject of .which we mean to treat. Per- 
spicuity will depend, in the first place, on the 
choice of words, and secondly, on the arrange- 
ment of them. As far as regards the choice of 
words, obscurity results, in the first place, 

From obsolete or afiected language, whicJu 



PERSPICUITY. 65 

is not generally understood. The following 
phrases in our liturgy were, at the time it was 
composed, good English ; but no man at pre- 
sent could employ the words in the same sense. 
" Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings," 
&c. " O Lord, deal not with us //erour sins*, 
neither reward us after our iniquities." In the 
apostles' creed also^ " the quick and the dead'* 
would be more intelligible than " the living 
and the dead." Many abuses of words have 
been introduced from the French idiom. Lard 
Bolingbroke, for instance, says, " by the persons 
I intend here," instead of I mean. Analogous 
to this is the use of Latinisms, as integrity to 
denote entireness ; conscience for consciousness i 
" The conscience of approving one's self a be- 
nefactor to mankind is the noblest recompense 
for being so." SPECTATOR. 

Again, obscurity proceeds from the use of 
ambiguous or indefinite words. Examples of 
this occur in the following sentences : " As for 
such animals as are mortal (or noxious), we 
have a right to destroy them." GUARDIAN^ 
No. 61. " The Christians rudely disturbed 
the service of paganism ; and rushing in crowds 
sound the tribunals of the magistrates, called 



66 PERSPICUITl". 

upon them to pronounce and inflict the sen- 
tence of the law." GIBBON. Here it is not 
easy to define what service is meant, whether 
civil or religious. A similar ambiguity may 
be found in the same author. Speaking of the 
cruelty of Valentinian, the historian adds : 
" The merit of Maximin, who had slaughtered 
the noblest families of Rome, was rewarded 
with the royal approbation and the prefecture 
of Gaul. Two fierce and enormous bears, dis- 
tinguished by the appellations of Innocence 
and Uricanurea, could alone deserve to share 
the favour of Maximin." IB. It is evident. 
that we must have recourse to the context to 
understand that these creatures were not the 
favourites of Maximin, but of Valentinian. 

The following are instances of ambiguity in 
the use of the same word in different senses : 

" Wealth and honour,, or what we impro- 
perly call our interests, have now an ascendant 
over us ; and the passion for each is rarely gra- 
tified but at the expence of some virtue. And 
thus it comes to pass, that though we set out 
in. the world with a warm sense of truth and 
honour j experience by degrees refines us out of 
these principles." KURD'S SEJIM. v. iu s. 3. 



PERSPICUITY. 67 

*' That he should be in earnest it is hard to 
conceive ; since any reasons of doubt which he 
might have in this case would have been rea- 
sons of doubt in the case of other men, who 
may give wore, but cannot give more evident, 
signs of thought than their fellow creatures." 
BOLINGBIIOKE'S PHILOSOPHICAL. ESSAYS, i. 
s. 9. Here the word more is first an adjective, 
the comparative of many ; and then an adverb 
and the sign of the comparative degree. It 
should be thus reformed " Who may give 
more numerous, but cannot," &c. " Who may 
give more, but cannot give clearer signs," 

A writer on criticism has the following sen- 
tence : " There appears to be a remarkable 
difference betwixt one of the first of ancient 
and of modern critics." OGILVIE. The em- 
barrassment of this sentence would have been 
entirely avoided, by inserting the words one of 
thejirst a second time, which probably an ap- 
prehension of offending the ear prevented.. 

The cases are so very numerous, in which an 
author in the choice of words, or an imprudent 
use of them, may darken the expression, that 
it would be almost impossible to prescribe any 
definite rules upon the subject. Perfection, ia 



68 PERSPICUITY^ 

this respect, is only to be acquired by practice^ 
Possibly the following remarks may be of some 
use to young writers. 

1st. As I before advised, endeavour to in- 
form yourself perfectly concerning the etymo- 
logy and meaning of words .. 

2d. Consult the best modern authors, and 
observe their different applications. The ori- 
ginal sense is not always a certain guide in the 
use .of- common words ; though, if nicely at- 
tended to, it will sometimes h^lp us to the rea- 
sons of theit application. 

3d. Be not too anxious for variety of expres- 
sion. It is well observed by the Abbe Gfrard,. 
that when a performance grows dull, it is not 
so. much because the ear is tired by the fre- 
quent repetition of the same sound, as because 
the mind is fatigued by the frequent occur- 
reace of the same idea. Lastly, We cannot 
be too much on our guard against the vulgar 
idiom. Most writers who affect ease and fami- 
liarity in writing, are apt to slide into it : 

" But ease in writing flows from art, not chance, 
" As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance." 

4th. That ambiguity, as well as inaccuracy, 



PERSPICUITY. 69 

is not uncommonly the effect of introducing 
the vulgar phraseology into written composi- 
tion, is evident from the very incorrect and 
absurd use of the verb to lay, instead of the 
neuter verb to lie. This solecism has arisen, I 
presume, from confounding the past tense of 
the latter with the present of the former verb. 
Let it be observed, however, that when a noun 
follows in the objective case, the verb active 
(to lay) may be used : as, to lay down an em- 
ployment ; and sometimes when the verb is re- 
flected or neutralized ; as, 

" Soft on the flow'ry herb I found one laid.'* 

But, to say u Death lays upon her like an un- 
timely frost," or to say " I have a work laying 
by me," would be a gross and intolerable bar- 
barism . 

5th. There are certain elliptical forms of ex- 
pression in common use which require care in 
the use of them, least the sense should be ob- 
scured to the reader, though to the writer it 
may appear sufficiently clear. e. g. 

" You ought to contemn all the wit in the 
world against you." GUARDIAN. 



70 PERSPICUITY. 

In this sentence, it is remarked by a modern 
critic, the author does not certainly mean that 
all the wit in the world is actually exerted 
against the person he addresses ; and therefore 
he should have expressed himself thus : " You 
ought to despise all the wit, however great it 
may be, that can be employed against you." 

" I beg of you (says Steele) never let the 
glory of our nation, who made France tremble, 
and yet has the gentleness to be unable to bear 
opposition from the meanest of his own coun* 
trymen, be calumniated in so imprudent a 
manner, as in the insinuation that he affected 
a perpetual dictatorship.'* It is difficult in 
this sentence to find at first the antecedent to 
the pronouns who, his, and he ; but on con- 
sideration, it appears that the glory means the 
Duke of Marlborough, and the difficulty is un- 
ravelled. Had the ellipsis been filled up with 
some such phrase as " the man whom we may 
justly term the glory, &c." no ambiguity could 
have occurred. 

6th. There are in common use certain 
phrases which are in themselves equivocal, and 
consequently often produce obscurity. Such 



^PERSPICUITY. 71 

as, not the least, not the smallest, nothing Jess, 
which are sometimes expressive of magnitude, 
and sometimes of the contrary. e. g. 

" Your character, &c. assure me, you will 
not think that clergymen, when injured, hav6 
the least right to your protection." GUAR- 
DIAN, No. 80. 

" He aimed at nothing less than the crown," 
which may imply that he was far from aiming 
at ; or it may signify that nothing less would 
satisfy him. 

" I will have mercy and not sacrifice, 1 ' would 
be better, " I will squire mercy," &c. Hos. 
yii. 6. 

u Our English is, among those dialects, one 
that I think more capable of improvement 
than any otlrer." MONBODDO ON LANGUAGE, 
p. ii. b. 1, c. 7. 

7th. Hypothetical or contingent expressions 
often produce obscurity when intended to re- 
present real facts. For instance, u If he be- 
stowed the gold to relieve the more painful dis- 
tress of a friend, the sacrifice is of some 
weight." GIBBON, vol. iv. p. 265, 

" The supine ignorance of the nobles was 
incapable of discerning the tendency of such 



72 PERSPICUITY. 

representations ; they might sometimes chas- 
tise, with words and blows, the plebeian refor- 
mer; bathe was often suffered," &c. GIK- 
ITON, p- 574\ 

The obscurity arising from bad arrangement 
is, however, worse than that which arises from 
the ill choice of words. Perspicuity is in- 
jured^ in this respect, in the following in- 
stances: 

1st. By separating the adjective from its 
proper substantive: " They chose to indulge 
themselves in the hour of natural festivity." 
Better " in the natural hour of festivity." 

2d. By using the same pronoun in reference 
to different persons or things in the same sen- 
tence : " And they did all eat and were filled: 
and they took up of the fragments that re* 
mained twelve baskets full." By the last they 
it is difficult to say who are meant, the multi- 
tude or only the disciples. 

3d. By the indiscreet or wrong placing of 
the relative : " Solomon, the son of David, 
who built the temple of Jerusalem, was the 
richest monarch of his time." Again, " So- 
lomon, the son of David, who was persecuted 
by Saul, was the richest," &c. The who in 



PERSPlCt'ITY. 73 

the first sentence relates to Solomon, and in the 
second to David, and yet is similarly situated. 
It would be better therefore to give a different 
turn to the sentence, and say " Solomon the 
son of David, and the builder of the temple," 
&c. " Solomon, whose father David was per- 
secuted," &c. 

" The laws of nature are truly what my 
Lord Bacon styles his aphorisms, laws of laws. 
Civil laws are always imperfect, and often false 
deductions from them) or applications of them; 
nay, they stand in many instances in opposi- 
tion to them." BOLINGBROKE. 

<f The perception of the human mind of the 
essential difference which lies in the nature of 
things, will direct it to prize some as objects 
good, and others to regard as evil." MACAU- 
LEY ON MORAL TRUTH. The others in the 
last member of the sentence may as well be in 
apposition to it, and governed by the vcfb 
direct as governed by the verb regard. The 
ambiguity would be remedied by iterating the 
word objects, or preserving the natural order. 

A certain author, speaking of Porto Bello, 
says : " This celebrated harbour, which was 
formerly very well defended by forts, which 

VOL. I. E 



74f PERSPICUITY. 

Admiral Vernon destroyed in 1740, seems to 
afford an entrance 600 toises broad ; but is so 
straitened with rocks that are near the surface 
of the water, that it is reduced to a very narrow 
channel." JUSTAMOND'S TRANS. OF RAY- 
NAL, b. vii. Better thus : " This celebrated 
harbour was defended, &c. it seems to afford, 
&c." " This activity drew numbers of enter- 
prising men over to Virginia, who came either 
in search of fortune, or of liberty, which is the 
only compensation for the want of it."-~-Ibid< 
Here the two antecedents are so confounded, 
that it requires a pause to distinguish them, 
and the construction is very ungraceful as well 
as obscure. One mode of avoiding ambiguity 
hi this case will be, when two antecedents oc- 
cur, putting one of them, if possible, in the 
plural, and the other in the singular number. 

A modern writer (MR. CUMBERLAND, Mem* 
vol ii. p. 152.) uses the following expression : 
" The Marquis Legarda, governor of Vittoria, 
to whom I had a letter from Count D'Aranda, 
the Marquis D'Allemanda, and other gentle- 
men of the place, did us the honour to visit 
us," &c. It is not clear whether the letter 
might not have been signed by the Marquis 



75 

D*Allemanda, &c. The ambiguity might have 
been avoided by saying, " I had a letter from 
the Count D'Aranda to the Marquis Legarda, 
and he and the (or he, as well as the) Marquis 
D'Allemanda, &c. came to visit us." 

Sdly. Obscurity is produced by separating 
the adverb and the adjective, or the adverb 
and the verb. Ex. "A power is requisite of 
fixing the intellectual eye upon successive ob* 
jects so steadily, as that the more may never 
prevent us from doing justice to the less im- 
portant." OGILVIE ON COMPOSITION, vol. i. 
p. 94. " This subject is precisely of that kind 
which a daring imagination could alone have 
adopted." Ibid. Here it is not accurately de- 
fined whether a daring imagination only could 
have adopted, &c. or whether it could haye 
adopted that subject only and no other. c< He 
conjured the senate, that the purity of his reign 
might not be stained by the blood even of a 
guilty senator." GIBBON. The arrangement 
would be more perfect, " by the blood of even 
a guilty senator." " He atoned for the mur- 
der of an innocent son, by the execution, per- 
haps, of a guilty wife." Ibid. The doubt in 
this sentence may apply to the reality of the 

F/2 



76 PERSPICUITY. 

execution. " Their intimacy had commenced, 
in the happier period, perhaps, of their youth 
and obscurity." 

4thly. The following are examples of am- 
biguity arising from the wrong position of a 
conjunction. The historian, speaking of an 
impolitic edict of Julian, thus expresses him- 
self: " He enacted that, in a time of scarcity, 
it (corn) should be sold at a price which had 
seldom been known in the most plentiful 
years." GIBBON. A common reader would 
infer from the above, that it was a standing 
order, that corn should in every time of scarcity 
be sold cheaper than in a time of plenty, which 
does not appear from the context to be the in- 
tention of the author. 

" They were much more antient among the 
Persians than Zoroaster, or Zerdusht." Bo- 
LINGBROK.E. The conjunction here is per- 
fectly equivocal, and the reader will certainly 
mistake the sense, unless he previously knows 
that Zoroaster and Zerdusht are the same. 

tt At least my own private letters leave room 
for a politician to suspect as much as a pene- 
trating friend of mine tells me." SPECT. 43. 
The conjunction is wrong placed here, and the 



PERSPICUITY. 77 

arrangement should be altered thus : " At least 
my own private letters, as a penetrating friend 
tells me, leave room," &c. 

Speaking of parents misjudging of the con- 
duct of schoolmasters, a modern author on edu- 
cation adds : "It has broke the peace of many 
an ingenious man, who had engaged in the care 
of youth, and paved the way to the ruin of 
hopeful boys." It is not perfectly clear whe- 
ther the circumstances or the master " paved 
the way," &c. It is impossible to decipher 
the following sentence. Respecting the Penn- 
sylvania marble, of which chimney-pieces, 
tables, &c. are made, the historian adds : 
" These valuable materials could not have 
been found in common in the houses, unless 
they had been lavished in the churches." 

5thly. Perspicuity is injured very frequently 
by the fear of concluding a sentence with a 
trifling word ; but surely, however ungraceful, 
at confused style is a much greater blemish. 
" The Court of Chancery," says a respectable 
author, " frequently mitigates, and breaks the 
teeth of the common law." From this sentence 
it might be inferred, that it mitigated the teeth. 
Better, therefore : " frequently mitigates the 



78 PERSPICUITY. 

common law, and breaks the teeth of it," &t 
61 its teeth." 

Gthly. It is an old observation, that the de- 
sire of brevity generally induces obscurity. 
This is exemplified in many forms of expres- 
sion, to which habit serves to reconcile us, but 
which are in themselves really ambiguous. 
Thus we speak of " the Reformation of Lu- 
ther;" which, if the circumstance was not well 
understood, might mean the reformation of the 
man, instead of the reformation of the church. 

7thly. An error opposite to this is long sen- 
tences and parentheses. Long periods, how- 
ever, seldom create obscurity, when the natural 
order of thought is preserved; especially if 
each division, clause, or member of the sen- 
tence, is complete in itself. It is in general the 
insertion of foreign matter, and parenthetical 
sentences, that confuse a style. 

It is impossible to indicate, or even to class, 
the various causes of ambiguity or obscurity. 
The few I have instanced may serve to awaken 
attention to this important point ; a cleat 
head and diligent study are the only certain 
means of securing the beauty of perspicuity in 
style. 



79 

But whatever value we may set upon this 
great essential, there is not any excellence which 
more recommends style than purity. This 
quality is indeed commonly confounded with 
elegance; though I think elegance implies 
something more, and necessarily includes some 
idea of ornament. There is no quality too, 
which is more easily attained. Nature, or to 
speak more properly, Providence, must give 
genius ; by hard study knowledge is acquired ; 
but a little attention, with polite reading and 
polite company, will give purity of style. 

A writer of some eminence, with whom I was 
acquainted in my youth, Dr. Gilbert Stuart, 
used to assert that the language of books, or 
composition, was entirely difierent from the 
language of conversation. Dr. Stuart was a 
North Briton, and made the observation at the 
time when the dialect of that country was much 
less pure than it is at present. He therefore 
must be understood as referring to a provincial 
idiom, otherwise the observation is not true. 
Polite conversation may be termed a loose and 
free kind of composition ; or composition may 
be regarded as conversation, pruned, correct- 
ed, and refined. We should otherwise write 



80 PURITY. 

as in a dead language, and our style would* not 
be natural and easy, but artificial and pedantic, 
both of which I consider as offences against pu- 
rity. On this occasion I shall pursue the same 
order as before, and consider purity of style, 
first, ^is it regards the choice of words ; and 
secondly, as referring to arrangement. 

The offences against purity of style, as far as 
respects the choice of words, may be reduced 
to the following heads : 1st. Obsolete, or un-. 
common expressions. 3d. Vulgarisms. 3d. 
Jargon, or cant. 

1st. In an age of novelty we have very 
little to apprehend from obsolete expressions. 
Scarcely any person, who is at all conversant 
with polite company, would use such expres- 
sions as behoof^ behest, per adventure, sundry, 
anon, whereof, erewhile, whereas, fantasy, Sec. 
It is not a very easy matter to determine the 
era of pure English ; but I think we should 
not look further back than the Revolution. 
Hooker, Bacon, Milton, Hobbes, and even 
Temple, are scarcely to be considered as au- 
thorities in this respect. 

2d. Contrary to this, is the more fashionable 
error of using affected language, and particu- 



PURITY. 81 

larly Gallicisms. This nation has txjen little 
indebted to the literature of France ; and we 
have no occasion to change the bullion of our 
language for the tinsel of theirs. A modern 
critic has, with great accuracy, collected a va- 
riety of these newly imporled phrases: such as, 
opiniatre, sortie, dernier resort , beaux arts, belles 
lettres, politesse, delicatesse, hauteur, for opinia- 
tive or positive, rally, last resort, liberal arts, 
polite literature, politeness, delicacy, haughti- 
ness. These he very properly calls " stray 
words or exiles," that have no affinity to our 
language, and indeed are no better than insects 
of the day. It is of the utmost importance to 
literature to adopt some standard of language ; 
there is no setting bounds to the liberty of 
coining words, if it is at all admitted ; and, in 
that case, the invaluable productions of our an- 
cestors will soon become unintelligible. 

3d. But the more dangerous vice, because it 
is the more common, is vulgarity. Some in- 
stances of this, however, are to be found in very 
approved authors, and seem to demonstrate 
how necessary it is to be guarded against it. 
Lord Kairnes speaks of the comedies of Aristo- 
phanes *' wallowing in looseness and detrac- 

E5 



82 PURITY. 

tion," (which is moreover a false metaphor;) 
of " the pushing genius of a nation ; of a na- 
tion being devoid of bowels," &c. The follow- 
ing phrase is surely intolerably low for serious 
composition : " To imagine that the gratifying 
of any sense, or the indulging of any delicacy 
in meat, drink, or apparel, is in itself a vice, 
can never enter into a head that is not disor- 
dered." HUME'S ESSAY ON REFINEMENT. 
Dr. Beattie is not free from such expressions : 
as a " long winded rhetorician, " screaming, 
squalling" &c. Dr. Blair speaks " of the 
subject in hand" of Milton having " chalked 
out" a new road in poetry ; of Achilles " pitch- 
ing upon Briseis. The following passages arc 
from the same author : " It is strange how a 
writer so accurate as Dean Swift should have 
stumbled on so improper an application of this 
particle," &c. " When we have arrived at 
what we expected was to be the conclusion, un- 
expectedly some circumstance pops out, which 
ought to have been omitted." BLAIR'S LECT. 

In turning over a few pages of Dr. Robert- 
son, one of the most correct of our historians, 
I find such phrases as the following: 

" That by their presence they might be the 



PUHITY. 83 

better able to persuade their countrymen to fall 
in with his proposals. A cause entrusted to 
such able and zealous advocates could not well 
miss of coming to a happy issue." 

" He took hold of the regent by the propef 
handle, and endeavoured to bring about a 
change in his sentiments," &c. 

" The love of the which is so natural to all, 
that in every age they (improbable rumours) 
have been swallowed without examination." 

" But during these vigorous proceedings of 
the protestants, they stood confounded, and at 
gaze." 

" Which must needs prove fatal to both ;" 
" and that the matter would seem to be huddled 
up /' and in Mr. Hume we meet with many 
such, as " carrying matters with a high hand" 
&c. 

Mr. Burke, whose name every scholar and 
every patriot must venerate, was far from being 
choice in his expressions ; and I grieve to find 
that our parliamentary oratory has even declined 
since his time. Nothing indeed has a greater 
tendency to debase eloquence than that taste for 
the ludicrous which has been introduced into 
the debates of parliament, where it seems la-t- 



84 , PURITY. 

terly to be the principal aim of the first speak- 
ers to try who can best act the buffoon. 

I shall select a few specimens of the vulgar 
from a pamphlet of the incomparable author 
"whom I have just mentioned, not to lessen his 
fame, for that no effort of mine could do, was I 
even inclined to act an invidious part ; but as a 
caution to avoid faults into which genius itself 
can glide. 

" They pursue even such as me into the ob- 
scurest retreats, and haul them before their re- 
volutionary tribunals." LETTER TO A NOBLE 
LORD. 

" Astronomers have supposed that if a comet, 
whose path intersected the ecliptic, had met the 
earth, it would have whirled us along with 
it, into God knows what regions of heat and 
cold." IBID. 

" At the same time a sort of national conven- 
tion nosed parliament in the very seat of its au- 
thority." IBID. 

" These obscene harpies flutter over our 
heads, and souse down upon our tables." IB. 
" For this reason I proposed to reduce it (the 
pension list,) lest, if left without a general li- 
mit, it might eat up the civil list." IBID. 



PURITY. 85 

" No other of the crown funds did I meddle 
with." IBID. 

" In my speech to the electors of Bristol, 
when I was put out of that representation." IB. 
" Great and learned men thought that my 
studies were not wholly thrown away" &c. 

A great critic has indeed said that sometimes 
a common expression is more significant than 
what is deemed an elegant one ; and I am in- 
clined to grant that the aptness of these words 
renders it difficult always to reject them. 
When, however, we meet with a low word, we 
ought diligently to look for one synonimous to 
it. It. would probably be a very improving 
exercise to make a collection, as they occur, of 
choice and elegant expressions, which may be 
employed instead of the common and collo- 
quial. Thus, for heaping up, we may use ac- 
cumulating ; for shunned, avoided; for (o brag, 
to boast; for their betters, their superiors ; for 
handed down, transmitted; for I got rid of, I 
avoided; for shut out, exclude; for set free, ex- 
empted; for broke his word, violated his pro- 
mise; for gave up, sacrificed; for stirred itp 9 
excited; for an expedient fallen upon, devised"; 
- for pitched upon, chosen; for cry up, extol. A 



86 PURITY. 

polite writer, instead of saying he is pushed on, 
will say urged or impelled; instead of going 
forwards or go on, proceed; instead of you take 
me, you understand; instead of / had as lief, 
I should like as well; instead of a moot point, 
a disputed point ; instead of by the bye, by the 
way ; (though I do not much approve of ei- 
ther;) instead of shut our ears, close our ears; 
instead of fell to work, began. Some words it 
will be better to omit, as, instead of saying, 
" he has a considerable share of merit," say, 
" he has considerable merit." 

When an idiom can be avoided, and a phrase 
strictly grammatical be introduced, the latter 
will always be most graceful : for instance, it is 
more elegant to say, " I would rather," than 
" I had rather." This idiom j probably took 
its rise from the abbreviation I'd, which in con- 
versation stands equally for I would, or I had. 

When a substitute cannot be found for a 
mean word, it is better to reform the sentence 
altogether, and to express it by periphrasis. 

4th. Another fault, against which writers 
who live at a distance from the metropolis ought 
to be particularly on their guard, is the use of 
provincial expressions. A student thus cir- 



PURITY. 87 

cumstanced should constantly compare the dia- 
lect of his own country with that of the best 
authors, and should endeavour to mark and 
distinguish all the provincialisms. That this 
observation is not without its use is evident, 
when we find even such an author as Dr. Blair 
employing such expressions as the following: 

Vol. ii. p. 206. " The middle pitch is that 
which he employs in common conversation, and 
which he should use for ordinary in public dis- 
course." 

Ib. p. 225. " "We will read him without 
pleasure, or most probably we shall soon give 
oner to read him at all." 

Ib. p. 62. " The representing them both as 
subject," &c. 

Ib. p. 109." Without having attended to 
this we will be at a loss," &c. 

Ib. p. 234. " There are few great occasions 
of public speaking in which one will not de- 
rive assistance from cultivated taste." 

Purity of style, as far as respects arrange- 
ment, is equally violated by affected stateliness, 
and by negligence. Of the former kind are 
the following instances : 

1st. Placing the nominative case after the 



88 PURITY. 

verb. Ex. " Wonderful are the effects of this 
passion in every view." " Not a little elegant 
is this manner of writing." " The demands of 
nature and necessity was he accustomed to 
say." GIBBON. 

2dly. The objective case in the beginning of 
the sentence. " Varieties of national charac- 
ter we observe imprinted on the physiognomy 
of nations." And not unlike this is Mr. Gor- 
don's very depraved construction in his transla- 
tion of Tacitus : " At this time war there was 
none." 

Sdly. The objective case before the impera- 
tive mood. i( How many nations have cer- 
tainly fallen from that importance which they 
had formerly borne among the societies of 
mankind, let the annals of the world declare." 

" Suppose a man (says a witty writer) should 
gravely address a friend in such language as 
this : Into the garden let us walk, of flowers 
it is full, of fruit I think you are fond, on the 
trees some peaches are to be found, apricots 
this year I have none, to tea we shall return 
what would he be thought ? He would be 
thought a coxcomb and a pedant." 

II. Negligence. I know nothing that more 



PURITY. 89 

enfeebles a style than beginning sentences with 
connective particles, such as, and, though, but, 
however, therefore, &c. It seems to put the 
reader out of breath, and partakes, in some 
measure, of the ungracefulness and confusion 
of long sentences. K 

It also destroys that compactness which gives 
energy to style. These circumstances have 
made it common to introduce the connective 
as the second or third word of the sentence : 
and the same reasons are almost equally forcible 
against the use of relatives in the beginning of 
sentences. 

It has also been generally esteemed ungrace- 
ful to conclude a sentence with a preposition 
or a trifling word. The auxiliary verbs are 
generally very bad conclusions. Ex. " If this 
affects him, what must the first motion of his 
zeal be ? ROBINSON'S ESSAY ON A SERMON. 

" Youth and health are with difficulty made 
to comprehend how frail a machine the human 
body is, and how easily impaired by excesses." 
Better : " How frail a machine is the human 
body." HURD. v. 21. It gives force to a pe- 
riod to complete the sense only with the last 
word. 



90 PURITY. 

Lastly. There is often inelegance in placing 
the adverb before the auxiliary verb, as in the 
following instance : " The question stated in 
the preceding chapter never has been fully con- 
sidered." It would I think be better u has ne- 
ver been fully," &c. 

It would be impossible, in the limits of a 
letter, to descend to a very minute detail. A 
good taste, and the perusal of good authors, 
must unite to form a good style in this parti- 
cular. Pedantry, however, more frequently 
misleads us than any other cause. 

The style of female authors flows easier, and 
is commonly more harmonious, than that of 
professed scholars. One general rule may in- 
deed be admitted : in narrative or plain didac- 
tic composition, in those which are intended 
merely to convey information, the natural order 
of the words is to be preferred ; but, when pas- 
sion or sublimity is the object, this order may 
be departed from, and a sentence must never 
conclude with a weak member or a trifling 
word. As perspicuity demands that enough 
shall be displayed in the first part of the sen- 
tence to make the aim of it manifest ; so ele- 
gance and vivacity demand a degree of energy 



PURITY. 01 

at the termination, in order to leave an impres- 
sion on the mind. Sometimes, however, in 
f ery animated expression, it has a good effect 
to place the emphatic word the first in order, 
as, u Blessed is he who cometh in the name of 
the Lord." " Silver and gold have I none, 
but such as I have I give thee." In this last 
sentence, the eager expectation, and the im- 
ploring look of the beggar naturally lead to a 
vivid conception of what was in his thoughts ; 
and this conception is answered by the form in 
which the declaration of the apostle is couched. 



92 HARMONY. 

X. 

i 

LETTER VIII. 

Harmony. Sentences. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

THE third quality of a good style, whether 
plain or ornamented, is harmony. The fable, 
that a swarm of bees settled on the cradle of 
Plato, as emblematical of the future sweetness 
of his style, seems to have been invented, like 
many other pretended presages, only to suit 
the event. The sweetness and harmony of Plato 
must, however, be allowed to be his greatest 
excellence, and that quality seems principally 
to have given him popularity and lasting fame. 
But Plato is not the only author who has been 
elevated into high reputation by his style. The 
harmony of style must greatly depend upon 
the writer possessing a fine and well-tuned ear, 
and this no critical rules can furnish; yet it is 
possible that, aided by the perusal of good au- 
thors, they may contribute to the correcting of 
a deficient ear, or the improvement of a good 



HARMONY. 93 

i 

one. Without harmony of style the best mat- 
ter will weary or disgust ; with it very indif- 
ferent books have attracted at least a temporary 
popularity. We have one author in our lan- 
guage whose only excellence, I might almost 
say, was the finest ear that perhaps ever fell to 
the lot of any writer I speak of Lord Boling- 
broke. The poverty and triteness of his matter 
sink him beneath most of the writers of his age, 
and yet it is almost impossible to read his pro- 
ductions without being charmed : there is in 
his periods the charm of magic. 

I have not a doubt that the harmony of prose 
compositions pleases upon the same principles 
with those of verse; and that something like 
a metrical arrangement may be traced in the 
style of our best prose writers. This observa- 
tion will be less clear and obvious to those who 
are only acquainted with modern verse. There 
so much has been given to the rhyme, that little 
attention has been paid to the charm of num- 
bers ; and there is a sameness in the measure 
which inevitably tires the ear. The French 
verse is all in dactyls ;* the English in iambics 

* A dactyl is one long and two short syllables, marked 



or trochaics. Even our blank verse has tod 
much of monotony to please for any length of 
time. This is not the case with the Greek and 
Latin hexameter verses. In them there is such 
a mixture of dactyls and spondees, that you 
will scarcely ever find two succeeding lines 
alike. This finely diversifies the measure, and 
the ear is not wearied by an insipid sameness, 
while the verse is sufficiently marked by the re* 
currence of the same sound at the end of the 
lines. 

The harmony of prose numbers, I am well 
convinced, depends on the judicious admixture 
of long and short syllables, and the musical, or 
perhaps metrical conclusion of the periods or 
sentences. This is an arrangement made by 
the ear, perhaps without the observation or 
knowledge of the writer. A fine ear feels what 
sounds would be agreeable if it heard them 
pronounced, and naturally, and almost without 
effort, moulds and forms the sentences in the 
most pleasing manner. It might be not an un- 

thus : tegrmne ? a spondee two long syllables, as f agl ; an 
iambic a short followed by a long syllable" awake my 
St. John," &c. A trochee a long and short one, as glitt'ring 
atones and golden things," Sec. 



HARMONY. 96 

Improving exercise to a student, who is master 
of Latin prosody, to examine occasionally the 
usual metre of our best authors ; for almost 
every one. will be found to have a metre pecu* 
liar to himself. I remember when I was young, 
I sometimes amused myself in this way. I 
have no note of the instances, but the results I 
perfectly recollect. 

I found that many long syllables crowded 
together rendered a style languid and heavy ; 
and this I apprehend to be the reason why mo,- 
nosyllables, if too numerous, are unpleasing 
either in prose or verse* 

A style abound ing in dactyls will seem rapid j 
but it wants dignity. You will find the writ- 
ings of Shaftsbury very much of this descrip* 
tion. 

Many verses in our common translation of 
the Bible, and the reading Psalms, you will 
find almost perfect hexameters. Macpherson's 
Ossian is throughout metrical, and even mo- 
notonous. 

A familiar subject will accord well with dac- 
tyls and anapestics. A grave uniform style 
abounds most in trochees and iambics. 

A rough and halting style is where, from a 



96 HARMONY. 

deficiency of ear, there is no musical arrange- 
ment whatever. What are called round or full 
periods will be found, I apprehend, to be those, 
of which the conclusion consists of one or two 
dactyls, followed by one or two long syllables. 
Ex. " His empire was enfeebled by the extent 
of his conquests ; and his foreign triumphs ter- 
minated in a rebellion at home." 

The serious writings of Mr. Addison resemble 
in their metre those of Lord Bolingbroke, but 
with this difference, that the style o/ the former 
abounds more in short syllables, and is there- 
fore less grave and sonorous. Swift had no 
car, and his prose is therefore extremely defi- 
cient in harmony ; he commonly concludes his 
sentences with a trochee or an iambic, which 
renders them mean, and destitute of majesty. 
The verse of Swift, on the contrary, is fluent, 
easy, and even harmonious. The reason I con- 
ceive to be, that there is something more me- 
chanical in verse than in prose; there are few 
ears so unmusical as not to be able to compre- 
hend the cadence of verse ; but the music of 
prose is on a more varied scale. 

A fault opposite to the harsh and dissonant, 
for which all the wit and genius of Swift cannot 



HARMONY. 97 

compensate> is monotony. Though one of the 
chief excellencies of Mr. Hume was his ear, 
yet I think a reader of nice perceptions will find 
his style exceedingly monotonous, as well as his 
vocabulary scanty. He had more taste than 
genius. A style to be perfect must be varied 
in the sound as well as in the language, with a 
happy mixture of long and short sentences, 
and the periods not all rounded alike. 

Harmony may also be consulted both in the 
choice of words, and in the mode of placing 
them. 1st. An attention to harmony demands 
that we should reject, if we can find synonimous 
terms, such long, heavy and compound words 
as barefacedness, zcrongheadedness, tenderheart- 
edness, &c. 

2dly. We should be sparing in the use of 
sucli as crowd together a number of short syl- 
lables, and in which the accent is tlirown so far 
back as to give an appearance of stammering 
in the utterance, such as prirri&rily, cursorily, 
summarily, peremptorily, peremptoriness, Sac. 

3dly. Such as repeat the alike syllable in an 
awkward and unmusical manner, as holily, far- 
riery, sillily, &c. 

In the collocation of words we should als 

VOL. i. F 



98 HARMONY. 

carefully avoid an hiatus, if possible ; and I 
conceive it may be generally done by a slight 
inversion or transposition. 

Swift, whose taste in prose composition I 
never can approve, though I cannot sufficiently 
admire his genius, was very angry with the 
custom of abbreviating the eths in the third per- 
son singular of verbs, and reducing them to a 
plain s. The truth is however, that the 5 in these 
instances is pronounced like z, which is not a 
hissing, but a very musical letter ; and I may 
appeal to any ear, whether has, and dies, and 
lies, are not more harmonious than hath, dietk, 
and lieth. 

Whether it may not have arisen from an 
early association I am uncertain ; from the 
Scriptures being translated into this kind of 
language, and its being used by old and vene- 
rable writers ; but the use of the termination 
eth in the third person seems to me only adapted 
to solemn or sublime writing. It is well em- 
ployed by the translator of Ossian, but is stiff 
and pedantic in Shaftsbury and Swift. 

Dr. Middle' on, instead of wishing with Swift 
to abridge the number of monosyllables, adds 
a very uncouth one to them, by cutting off the 



HARMONY. 99 

last syllable from the word often; and Mr. 
Rowe, to soften the language) abridges the mo- 
nosyllable l/icni, by taking away the th when 
the preceding word ends with a consonant. 
But in general I disapprove of all such abbre- 
viations. They have a tendency to corrupt 
the structure of our language, without im- 
proving its harmony ; and are now properly 
rejected by all good writers. 

From what I have stated in the course of this 
letter, you will perceive that there is a style na- 
turally suited, even in point of harmony j metre, 
or cadence to particular subjects. The grave 
and solemn require an equal and majestic suc- 
cession of sounds ; the more violent passions 
may have longer and fuller periods with more 
rapidity. But the notion of suiting the sound 
to the sense, or rather mimicking the motions 
or the sounds you describe, though attempted 
by Pope, and recommended by Blair, is. ex- 
tremely puerile, either in prose or verse. The 
infelicity of Mr. Pope's imitations of this kind 
ought to be a caution to others not to attempt 
it. Had his lines 

' When Ajax strives some mighty weight to throw, 
" The line too labours, and the words move slow ; 
F2 



100 .HARMONY. 

" Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 

" Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the 



been all the author meant them in this respect, 
the merit would not have been great. It would 
have only been like the declaimer who acts his 
words. Such frivolous attempts are beneath 
a man of great genius, who, if he has an ear, 
and is really warmed with his subject, may ge- 
nerally trust to the former to accompany the 
latter with the appropriate words and sounds. 

But though the rules of art cannot furnish 
that important qualification a good ear, still the 
ear is, I believe, capable of improvement in 
style, as well as in vocal or instrumental music. 
I would therefore recommend, as an exercise, 
that you would occasionally compose one or 
more sentences on any given subjects, and try 
afterwards to alter the arrangement of the words 
in different ways, till you find that which is 
most sonorous, and most likely to please in de- 
livery ; or if you would read over your dif- 
ferent attempts to some friend who had a really 
good ear, the exercise would be more perfect. 

Another practice which will improve you, 
not only in harmony, but in fluency and ele- 



SENTENCES. 101 

gance of style, is to read over carefully a short 
passage in any good author, Addison, Johnson, 
Robertson pr Gibbon ; close the book, and try 
to express the ideas as nearly as you can in 
their manner. Then compare your attempt with 
the original. 

I do not mean to advise you to play the part" 
of a mere imitator, when you write from your- 
self; for every author should have a style of 
his own ; but by such exercises as these you 
will acquire a command of language, and a 
taste for beauty and harmony. 

Before I proceed to the ornamental part of 
style, properly so called, I wish to premise a 
few words more connected perhaps with the 
preceding subject. I might have introduced 
what I have now to state under the head of 
perspicuity, but that it is in &ome measure con- 
nected also with harmony ; I mean the graceful 
and elegant construction of a sentence. Aris- 
totle's definition of a sentence is absurd, be- 
cause it will apply to almost any thing as well 
as a sentence, and does not give you an idea of 
that which it is intended to describe. "It is, 
says he, "a speech, or saying, which has a 
beginning and end within itself." Dr. Blair is 



102 SENTENCES. 

much better, who calls it " a simple proposi- 
tion or enunciation of thought ;" and Dr. 
Lowth's, with some slight correction, will per- 
haps be found the most perfect, and comes re- 
commended by its plainness and simplicity: 
u An assemblage of words, which in themselves 
make a complete sense." 

Though this is a good definition of a sen- 
tence, yet it must not be understood to imply 
that every sentence is confined to the expres- 
sion of one single act, such as requires only 
a noun and a verb, with possibly an objective 
case, such as " He is gone to London." A 
sentence may embrace several members, or little 
sentences within it, subservient to the principal 
and governing sense. These litter are called 
compound sentences ; and such are the majo- 
rity of those which occur in composition. 

It is upon selecting properly what members 
dught to be admitted into a sentence, and ar- 
ranging them with judgment, that the diffi- 
culty in this branch of composition depends ; 
and you will find as much difference in this re- 
spect between the sentences of a master in com- 
position, and those of a 1 beginner or an unskil- 
ful practitioner, as between the motions of the 



SENTENCES. 103 

most graceful stage dancer, and the arrantcst 
clown. 

The first rule that I shall lay down with re- 
spect to the structure of a sentence, depends 
immediately upon the definition I have just 
adopted, that it shall contain one clear propo- 
sition or enunciation of thought ; and therefore 
you must be careful never to crowd those cir- 
cumstances into one sentence, which would be 
better dispersed into two or more : I select an 
example from Sir William Temple's Essay on 
Poetry. 

" The usual acceptation," says he, " takes 
profit and pleasure for two different things, and 
not only calls the followers or votaries of them 
by the several names of busy and idle men, but 
distinguishes the faculties of the mind, that are 
conversant about them, calling the operations 
of the first wisdom, and of the other wit, which 
is a Saxon word, used to express what the Spa- 
niards and Italians call ingegno, and the French 
esprit, both from the Latin ; though I think 
wit more particularly signifies that of poetry, 
as may occur in remarks on the Runic lan- 
guage. 

Nothing can possibly be more confused than 



104 SENTENCES. 

this sentence, which, to be rendered intelligible, 
requires to be divided into at least two or three. 
We have another in Lord Shaftsbury's rhap- 
sody, where he treats of the sun's influence, 
monstrous animals, and then of man, all in one 
period. 

" The sun," says he, " breaks the icy fet- 
ters of the main, when vast sea-monsters pierce 
through floating islands, with arms that can 
withstand the crystal rocks ; whilst others, that 
of themselves seem great as islands, are by their 
bulk alone armed against all but man, whose 
superiority over creatures of such stupendous 
size and force, should make him mindful of his 
privilege of reason, and force him humbly to 
adore that great Composer of these wondrous 
frames, and the author of his own superior wis- 
dom." 

From these, and other examples, which will 
frequently occur in the course of your reading, 
you will find that the complaint against long 
sentences arises not so much from their length, 
as from their perplexity ; from their implicat- 
ing too many circumstances to admit of their 
being clearly comprehended by the mind at one 
view. This is often not the mere fault of dul- 



SENTENCES. WO 

ness, which naturally obscures every thing, but 
it may arise from the exuberance of genius, 
which is apt to comprize, at a single glance, 
a vast variety of matter, and to imagine that 
what is easily understood by itself must be 
equally so by others. 

A very little consideration will shew you that 
the whole of the obscurity in the first sentence 
which I have quoted from Sir William Temple 
may be removed, and with scarcely any multi- 
plication of words, by merely breaking it into 
three ; for instance : ' 

" The usual acceptation takes profit and 
pleasure for two different things, and calls their 
respective votaries by the distinct names of the 
busy and the idle. A similar distinction pre- 
vails even with respect to the faculties of the 
mind which are conversant about these different 
objects, and the operations of the one are called 
wisdom, those of the other wit. This last word 
is of Saxon origin, and is used to express what 
the Spaniards and Italians call ingenio, and 
the French esprit, both from the Latin ; though 
{ am of opinion that wit is more immediately 
applicable to poetry," &c. 

There is another sentence quoted by Dr. Blair 

F5 



106 SENTENCES. 

from Swift's " Proposal for correcting the Eng- 
lish Language," which is almost equally ob- 
scure, and which might be rectified with equal 
facility. After noticing the state of our lan- 
guage under Cromwel, he adds : " To this suc- 
ceeded that licentiousness which entered with 
the Restoration, and from infecting our religion 
and morals, fell to corrupting our language ; 
which last was not like to be much improved 
by those who at that time made up the court of 
King Charles II. ; either such as had followed 
him in his banishment, or who had been alto- 
gether conversant in the dialect of these fanatic 
times ; or young men who had been educated 
in the same country ; so that the court, which 
used to be the standard of correctness and pro- 
priety of speech, was then, and I think has 
ever since continued the worst school in Eng- 
land for that accomplishment ; and so will re- 
main, till better care be taken of the education 
of our nobility, that they may set out into the 
world with some foundation of literature, in 
order to qualify them for patterns of polite- 
ness." 

I should perhaps propose some more exten- 
sive alterations in this sentence was I to survey 



SENTENCES. 107 

it throughout wilh a critical eye; but the ob- 
scurity, as well as the tediousness of a long pe- 
riod, will be removed even by so simple an al- 
teration as the following : 

u To this succeeded that licentiousness which 
entered with the Restoration, and in consequence 
of which, not merely our religion and morals, 
but even our language, was corrupted. Our 
language indeed was not likely to be improved 
by those who formed the court of Charles IL 
That court consisted either of such as had fol- 
lowed him into banishment, or had been alto- 
gether conversant in the dialect of those fanatic 
times ; or else of young men who had been 
educated in the same country with himself. 
Thus the court, which before had been the 
standard of correctness and propriety of speech, 
was then, and I tkink has ever since continued, 
the worst school in England for that accom- 
plishment. Such indeed I fear it will remain, 
till better care is taken of the education of our 
nobility, in order that they may enter upon life 
with some foundation of literature, to qualify 
them to appear as patterns of politeness." 

The 2d rule that I propose, is to be careful 
of the too frequent or indiscreet use of paren- 



108 SENTENCES. 

theses. They should always arise out of the 
subject, and yet be so far unconnected with it, 
that the sense inclosed within the brackets shall 
be complete in itself, and such as might be 
spared wi hout destroying the sense of the pe- 
riod. A parenthesis should also be short, and 
not consist of many members ; otherwise it vrill 
become inevitably blended with the main sense, 
or the latter will be even forgotten by the reader. 

I have said parentheses should not be too 
frequent ; yet in oratorical, or animated com- 
position, they have sometimes both force and 
beauty. Mr. Gibbon was a great master in the 
use of them Two casually occur to my mindj 
and therefore are not to be regarded as his best : 
" The nobles were taught to seek a sure and in- 
dependent revenue from their estates, instead 
of adorning their splendid beggary by the op- 
pression of the people, or (what is much the 
same) by the favour of the court." 

II The Christians and the Moslems enumerate 
(and perhaps multiply) the illustrious victims 
that were sacrificed to the zeal, avarice, or re- 
sentment of the old man (as he was corruptly 
styled) of the mountain." 

3dly. "When it is practicable, let the sentence 



SENTENCES. 109 

close with the principal and emphatical words. 
The genius of the English language admits of 
very small transposition, and therefore we are 
more confined in this respect than the Greeks 
or Romans. Quinctilian recommends that the 
principal word should be placed near the end 
of a sentence ; and the antients generally ended 
their periods with a verb. 

In English we cannot observe the same rule. 
We ought, however, to place important words 
where they appear to most advantage : and 
the most proper place seems to be the begin- 
ning or end of a sentence. Of the proper dis- 
position of the principal words, we have a fine 
example from Lord Shaftsbury, comparing the 
modern poets with the antients : 

" And if whilst they profess only to please, 
they secretly advise and give instruction, they 
may now perhaps, as well as formerly, be 
esteemed with justice the best and most honour- 
able among authors." 

By putting the sentence in a different order, 
we shall be easily convinced how much beauty 
is lost by bad arrangement. 

" And if whilst they profess to please only, 
they advise secretly and give instruction, they 



110 SENTENCES. 

may justly be esteemed the best and most ho- 
nourable among authors now, perhaps as well 
as formerly." 

Here the adverbs only and secretly, being 
put after the verbs, and the sentence ending 
with a particle, makes the whole period dis- 
agreeable, but they are disposed by the author 
where they scarcely can be observed. We are 
to remember, however, that particles may con 
elude a sentence when they are words of im- 
portance, as in this sentence of Lord Boling- 
broke concerning his friends : 

" In their prosperity they shall never hear of 
me, in their adversity always." 

Agreeably to this rule we ought to avoid such 
words at the end of our sentences as only mark 
the cases of nouns, e. g. 

" Avarice is a crime which wise men are 
often guilty of." 

And a certain author speaking of the Trinity, 
says, 

" This is a mystery, which we firmly believe 
the truth of, and humbly adore the depth of." 

The fault and the correction of it are both 
obvious ; it ought to have been expressed thus : 

" This is a mystery, the truth of which we 



SENTENCES. Ill 

firmly believe, and the depth of which -we 
humbly adore. v 

Compound verbs should seldom be used at 
the end of sentences ; and the pronoun it is ge- 
nerally a very improper close. 

4thly. We should endeavour to contrive that 
the members of our sentences shall rise upon 
one another, and beware of making the last sen- 
tence the echo of the former. 

This kind of arrangement is called a climax, 
when, as we proceed, every member seems to 
grow in importance. Cicero particularly stu- 
died this grace of composition ; and there is a 
fine example of it in his oration for Milo : 

" Si res, si vir, si tempus ullum dignum fuit, 
certe, haec in ilia causa, summa oinnia fuerunt." 
We have another example in Lord Boling- 
broke's idea of a Patriot King : 

" This decency, this grace, this propriety 
of manners and character is so essential to 
princes in particular, that whenever it is ne- 
glected, their virtues lose a great degree of 
lustre, and their defects acquire much aggra- 
vation. Nay more ; by neglecting this de- 
cency and this grace, and for want of a suffi- 
cient regard to appearances, even their virtues 



112 SENTENCES. 

may betray them into failings, their failings into 
vices, and their vices into habits unworthy of 
princes, and unworthy of men." 

The finest instance of climax extant is, how- 
ever, that of St. Paul, 2 Cor. xi. 22, &c. 

" Are they Hebrews ? so ana I ; are they Is- 
raelites ? so am I ; are they the seed of Abra- 
ham ? so am I. Are they the ministers of 
Christ ? (I speak as a fool) I am more : in la- 
bours more abundant, in stripes above measure, 
in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft." 

The instance mentioned of Crassus by Cicero 
in his treatise " De Oratore," is also worth your 
attention. In examining a witness who ap- 
peared against his client " Perhaps, said the 
orator, the person spoke these words only in 
a passion ?" The witness not making any re- 
ply, he proceeded " Perhaps you did not 
rightly understand him ?" The witness conti- 
nuing silent, he adds " Perhaps you did not 
hear it at all ?" 

From all that has been said you will be pre- 
pared for my 5th and last observation, which is, 
that the most ungraceful circumstance in com- 
position is what I may call a kind of appendix 
to a sentence : something added after the na- 



SENTENCES. 113 

lural close, and which is frequently even of a 
very trivial nature, or which might have been 
included in the body of the sentence. Dr. Blair 
very properly terms such sentences " more 
than finished," and as I have his work before 
me, and no better instances occur, I shall give 
you the two that he has quoted. In the first 
of these the words succeeding the natural close, 
which is " indignation," might have been 
omitted ; and in the second, you will see the 
appended words are better included in the body 
of the sentence. 

Sir William Temple, speaking of Burnet's 
Theory of the Earth, and Fontenelle's Plurality 
of Worlds, observes : 

" The first could not end his learned treatise 
without a panegyric of modem learning in 
comparison of the antient ; and the other falls 
so grossly into the censure of the old poetry, 
and preference of the new, that I could not read 
either of these strains without some indigna- 
tion ; which no quality among men is so apt 
to raise in me as self sufficiency." 

The other instance is from Swift's Letter to 
a Young Clergyman : 

" With these writings young divines are 



114 SENTENCES. 

more conversant than with those of Demos- 
thenes, who by many degrees excelled the 
other ; at least as an orator." 

The proper correction of this sentence need 
scarcely be pointed out : 

" With these writings young divines are 
niore conversant than with those of Demos- 
thenes, who, at least as an orator, by many 
degrees excelled the other." 

Much has been said by critical writers, but 
to little purpose, on the subject of long and 
short sentences. I have already explained 
why what are called long sentences are usually 
faulty : it is because they are perplexed by in- 
volving the matter of two or three, and this is 
generally the case with Clarendon's " Periods 
of a Mile," as they are well entitled by a judi- 
cious modern poet. Sometimes they have an 
appendix attached to them, and in old writers 
frequently conclude with a by, a with, an of, 
or some other insignificant word ; otherwise 
where a sentence is clear, and strong, and well 
compacted, it is never the worse for being long, 
if kept within, the bounds of moderation. Mr. 
Burke, who was a model of every grace and 
excellence of composition, was remarkable for 



SENTENCES. 115 

the length of his periods ; but they were at the 
same time full and sonorous. 

If it were asked, however, to what species of 
composition long or short sentences are most 
adapted, I would say that long sentences are the 
language of oratory, short sentences of conver- 
sation. Grave and studied composition best ac- 
cords with a length of period, and some degree 
of inversion of language is then an excellence, 
since it serves to dignify and raise it above the 
level of colloquial discourse. For the gay and 
familiar, short sentences are best adapted ; as 
such composition is commonly an imitation of 
common conversation. On this account Mon- 
tesquieu's Spirit of Laws is a most ill-written 
book. The number of short sentences tires ex- 
cessively ; and they succeed each other so 
rapidly, as not to leave impressions sufficiently 
strong and distinct. 

Composition purely didactic, however, in 
which there is no appeal to the passions, ought 
not to abound in very long sentences, nor should 
there be much departure from the natural order 
of the words. I would almost prescribe the 
same rule for narrative, especially where there 
is no description. Where, however, descrip- 



116 SENTENCES. 

tion is introduced, there is room for a display 
of eloquence, and then the composition may 
assume something of a rhetorical cast. For 
reasons which I shall afterwards assign, I think 
Mr. Hume's history very faulty ; but I cannot 
deny him the praise of a clear and unaffected 
style, which renders his narrative generally 
intelligible and pleasant. Mr. Gibbon, on the 
contrary, has more eloquence, and he describes 
better than he narrates. 

After all that I have urged on this topic, you 
will derive more of practical improvement 
from the careful perusal of good authors, than 
from any rules that can be laid down. Take 
Pope, Addison, Burke, Robertson, Johnson, 
(particularly the preface to his dictionary) and 
Gibbon ; and observe carefully how each of 
these great writers has arranged his words, and 
constructed his periods. You will find some- 
thing characteristic in each with respect to the 
harmony of their numbers, and the structure of 
their sentences ; but though I advise you to 
study them all, I do not recommend a servile 
imitation of any. If I was to propose a model 
for general use, it would be the style of Mr. 
Addison ; for in copying, that you are copying 



SENTENCES. 117 

the expression of nature itself. He is sufficiently 
pure though not faultless. He is always per- 
spicuous, natural and easy. In harmony he 
has never been excelled ; and his periods are. 
constructed with the art, dexterity and prompti- 
tude of a master workman. They are never 
deficient in grace, though it must be allowed 
that sometimes they want strength, but that 
was not an object considering the nature of his 
subjects. On this account Mr. Addison shewed 
his judgment in not attempting the part of an 
orator in parliament. His style was not adapted 
to it. In fine, to use the words of an incompa- 
rable critic, and biographer : " Whoever 
wishes to attain an English siyle, familiar but 
not coarse, elegant but not ostentatious, must 
give his days and nights to the volumes of Ad- 
dison." 



US ORNAMENT. 

LETTER IX. 

Ornament. Amplification. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

THE real ornaments of composition, whether 
prose or poetry, can proceed only from genius, 
from a mind rich in such ideas as are the fruits 
of observation, active in forming combinations, 
and nice in selecting such as are interesting and 
beautiful, and adapted to the subject. This 
observation will naturally recal to your me- 
mory what I have advanced in my second let- 
ter, that it is the clear and striking display of 
a number of circumstances which are calculated 
to exhibit a picture strongly to the mind, that 
renders a style interesting and animated. Com- 
pare the description of the storm in Virgil's first 
jEneid, that of Milton's Death and Sin, or the 
account of a battle by a Livy or a Gibbon, 
with the narratives or descriptions of ordinary 
writers, and you will soon perceive the magic 
touch of genras. 



ORNAMENT. 119 

An historian, or even a poet, might have ex- 
pressed or described the surprise of the north- 
ern invaders at finding themselves transported 
from a bleak and unfriendly region, to the ge- 
nial climate of Italy, and yet not raise the emo- 
tions -which Mr. Gray excites even in a few 
lines 

" With grim delight the brood of winter view, 
" A brighter day, and skies of azure hue ; 
" Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose, 
*' And quaff the pendant vintage as it grows." 

Here even every epithet speaks something to 
the purpose : the " grim delight," the " brood 
of winter," the brightness of the day, and the 
" skies of azure hue," the rose, and the grape, 
so beautifully introduced, are all picturesque, 
and have a finer effect than a formal descrip- 
tion. 

Again Shakspeare might have moralized, as 
many a popular preacher does, upon the pro- 
gress of human life from infancy to manhood, 
and its subsequent decline and melancholy ter- 
mination. He might have compared it to a 
drama, remarked on the variety of characters 
which we are called upon by Providence to as- 



120 ORNAMENT. 

sume ; and he might have concluded, like the 
gentleman to whom I have alluded, with some 
good common-place remark, as " he is a happy 
man, who plays well the part which is assigned 
him." But this would not attract and engage 
the reader like the picture which he draws of 
the different and almost contrasted characters 
in which the same man may be appointed to 
appear 

" All the world's a stage, 

" And all the men and women merely players ; 

" They have their exits, and their entrances ; 

" And one man in his time plays many parts, 

" His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 

" Mewling and puking, in the nurse's arms : 

" And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, 

" And shining morning face, creeping like snail 

" Unwillingly to school : and then, the lover ; 

" Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 

" Made to his mistress' eye-brow : then, a soldier ; 

" Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 

" Zealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 

" Seeking the bubble reputation 

" Even in the cannon's mouth : and then, the justice ; 

" In fair round belly^ with good capon lin'd, 

" With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 

" Full of wise saws and modern instances, 

" And so he plays his part : the sixth age shifts 



AMPLIFICATION. 121 

" Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; 

" With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 

" His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 

" For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 

" Turning again towards childish treble, pipes 

*' And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all, 

" That ends this strange eventful history, 

" Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 

" Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing." 

I select this well-known passage, because 
from its being familiar to you, it will more 
strongly impress upon your mind the doctrine 
I wish to enforce. 

I had read many accounts of the first cru- 
sades, but I never saw them, till depicted by 
the animating pencil of Gibbon. 

" The 15th of August had been fixed in the 
council of Clermont for the departure of the 
pilgrims : but the day was anticipated by the 
thoughtless and needy crowd of plebeians ; 
and I shall briefly dispatch the calamities which 
they inflicted and suffered, before I enter on 
the more serious and successful enterprise of 
the chiefs. Early in the spring, from the con- 
fines of France and Lorraine, above sixty thou- 
sand of the populace of both sexes flocked 
round the first missionary of the cmsade 5 and 

VOL. I. G 



122 AMPLIFICATION. 

pressed him with clamorous importunity to lead 
them to the holy sepulchre. The hermit, as- 
suming the character, without the talents or au- 
thority, of a general, impelled or obeyed the 
forward impulse of his votaries along the banks 
of the Rhine and Danube. Their wants and 
numbers soon compelled them to separate, and 
his lieutenant, Walter the Pennyless, a valiant, 
though needy soldier, conducted a vanguard of 
pilgrims, whose condition may be determined 
from the proportion of eight horsemen to fifteen 
thousand foot. The example and footsteps of 
Peter were closely pursued by another fanatic, 
the monk of Godescal, whose summons had 
swept away fifteen or twenty thousand peasants 
from the villages of Germany. Their rear was 
again pressed by an herd of two hundred thou- 
sand, the most stupid and savage refuse of the 
people, who mingled with their devotion a bru- 
tal licence of rapine, prostitution, and drunken- 
ness. Some counts, and gentlemen, at the head 
of three thousand horse, attended the motions 
of the multitude to partake in the spoil ; but 
their genuine leaders (may we credit such fol- 
Jy ?) were a goose and a goat, who were carried 
in the front, and to whom these worthy Chris- 



AMPLIFICATION. 125 

tians ascribed an infusion of the divine spi* 
rit." 

Though brevity is a characteristic of the sa- 
cred writers, yet theyare no strangers to that 
kind of amplification which gives an energy 
and an interest to their observations. Languor 
and feebleness are the characteristics of old age, 
but how beautifully is this expressed ia the fol- 
lowing passage: 

" Remember now thy Creator in the days of 
thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor 
the years draw nigh when thou shalt say I have 
no pleasure in them. 

u While the sun, or the light, or the moon, 
or the stars be not darkened, nor the clouds re* 
turn after the rain. In the day when the keepers 
of the house shall tremble, and the strong men 
shall bow themselves, and the grinders (rather 
millers or men that grind,) cease because they 
are few, and those that look out of the windows 
be darkened, and the doors shall be shut in the 
streets, when (he sound of the grinding is low, 
and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, 
and all the daughters of music shall be brought 
low ; also when they shall be afraid of that 
which is high, and fears shall be in the 



124: AMPLIFICATION. 

and the almond tree shall flourish, and the 
grasshopper shall be a burthen, and desire shall 
fail : because man goeth to his long home, and 
the mourners go about the streets." 

From the first paragraph that I have quoted, 
the style is highly figurative, expressive of the 
failure of the senses, and of the animal powers. 
The decay of sight is expressed by the light of 
the sun and the moon and the stars (all ampli- 
fication) being darkened. The loss of strength 
by the " keepers of the house (the hands and 
arms I believe) trembling ;" and " the strong 
men," (the limbs) bowing themselves. " The 
millers, or men that grind, ceasing because they 
are few," evidently alludes to the loss of the 
teeth ; and the failure of the sight is again de- 
scribed under the figure of " those who look 
out at the windows being darkened." 

I cannot say that 1 understand the meaning 
of the phrase " the almond tree shall flourish;" 
but the expression " the grasshopper shall be 
a burthen, and desire shall fail," is inexpres- 
sibly beautiful, and the finest description, in few 
words, that I ever saw of the extreme debility, 
and helplessness of old age. The concluding 
expression is so striking that it has become pro* 



AMPLIFICATION. 125 

rerbial, " because man goeth to his long home, 
and the mourners go about the streets." 

In poetry there is more exercise for the ima- 
gination, and consequently more opportunity 
for this kind of amplification than in any prose 
.composition whatever. The poems of Gold- 
smith, which, being of the descriptive kind, 
afford the most ample scope, are almost entirely 
composed of it. Take as an example, the 
charming character of the village preacher 
from the Deserted Village 

" Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, 

" And still where many a garden flower grows wild, 

" There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 

" The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 

" A man he was to all the country dear, 

" And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 

" Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 

" Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place; 

" Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r, 

" By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; 

" Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, 

" More "bent to raise the wretched than to rise. 

" His house was known to all the vagrant train, 

" He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain ; 

" The long remember'd beggar was his guest, 

*' Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;. 



126 AMPLIFICATION. 

" The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, 

" Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; 

" The broken soldier kindly bade to stay, 

" Sat by his fire, and talk r d the night away ; 

" Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, 

" Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were worx 

" Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, 

" And quite forgot their vices in their woe; 

" Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 

" His pity gave ere charity began. 

I cannot resist the temptation of adding th* 
portrait of the schoolmaster 

u Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 
" With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay, 
" There in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, 
" The village master taught his little school : 
" A man severe he was, and stem to view, 
*' I knew him well, and every truant knew ; 
" Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace 
" The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
" Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee, 
" At all hisjokes, for many a joke had he; 
" Full well the busy whisper, circling round, 
" Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd; 
" Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, 
" The love he bore to learning was his fault ; 
" The village all declar'd how much he knew ^ 
" Twas certain he could write and cypher too 



AMPLIFICATION. If 

*' Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 

" And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge : 

" In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill, 

" For ev'n though vanquish'd he could argue still ; 

" While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound, 

" Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around ; 

" And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew 

" That one small head should carry all he knew." 

You will easily see that these two characters 
might have been delineated in few words ; but 
the enumeration and display of all the little cir- 
cumstances that serve to mark them, renders 
the picture striking and perfect. 

But though poetry affords the finest field for 
this exercise of the fancy, so convinced were 
the antients of its necessity to fine composition, 
that they proposed certain topics or common 
places to assist the memory in bringing forward 
every thing that served to illustrate a subject. 
Aristotle's Rhetoric, which I would have you 
read as the curious effort of the most methodi- 
cal understanding that ever existed, is chiefly 
a collection of these topics. The topics, or 
common places, they distributed into two kinds ; 
general or metaphysical topics; ,or particular 
topics. Of the first kind were happiness, vir* 



128 AMPLIFICATION. 

tue, Ihe profitable, the good, &c. &c. ; parti- 
cular topics regarded men, places, or times. 

Thus under the general topic or division hap- 
piness, they would enumerate health, security, 
power, nobility, friends, children, fame, suc- 
cess, disposition, wealth, &c. 

Under the particular topic person, they would 
have regard to sex, age, fortune, education, 
ability, family, offices,. &c. 

Thus in descanting upon the excellence and 
utility of any virtue, and to shew how it con- 
tributed to happiness, by turning to that gene- 
ral topic, the orator or the student would be 
led to argue how far it was essential to health, 
to security, to fame, &c. 

Or in delineating a character, by glancing 
his eye on his common-place book, he would be 
led to declare what the person was as to birth, 
fortune, education, ability, offices, connexions, 
&c. 

This method is however too mechanical to 
be pursued by a person of genius, and none 
but a person of genius will ever succeed in 
amplification on any subject. Yet I think I 
may recommend to you, when you are to write 
on any subject, to sit down previously and 



AMPLIFICATION". 

consider it in all its parts, circumstances and 
relations, and even to take notes of those topics 
on which it may be proper to enlarge. la 
short, though amplification may not be neces- 
sary to plain didactic or narrative composition^ 
it may be fairly inferred that almost all the 
beauties of fine, writing will proceed more or 
less from a judicious application of this prin- 
ciple. 

I must repeat, however, that it depends en- 
tirely on the taste and judgment of the author 
to select such circumstances as are really strik- 
ing, for nothing can be more stupid than an 
amplified detail of trifling matters. It would 
be a very instructive exercise, if a judicious 
tutor in rhetoric was to give occasionally his 
pupils, as themes on which to enlarge, some 
general heads ; as some well-known character 
in history, the imaginary description of a land- 
scape, a battle, a garden, &c. Or you may 
do the same for yourself, taking a subject from 
Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon ; writing your 
own thoughts upon it, and afterwards com- 
paring your effort with that of the author. M . 
Rollin produces some of these subjects to which 

GO 



ISO AMPLIFICATION. 

I shall refer, in order to enable you to pursue 
with more effect this excellent exercise of the 
youthful mind. 

" The Iheme is to display the religion and 
piety of marshal Turenne, even in the midst of 
battles and victories. 

'* The writer must begin with a common- 
place, to represent how difficult it is for a gene- 
ral, at the head of a great army, neither to be 
elate with pride, nor to consider himself infi- 
nitely superior to the rest of mankind. Even 
the aspect of the war r the noise of arms, the 
cries of soldiers, &c. conspire to make him for- 
get what he himself and what God is. It was 
on such occasions, Salmoneus, Antiochus, and 
Pharaohy had the presumption and impiety to 
think themselves gods ; but it must be confessed 
that religion and humility never appear more 
illustrious, than when they render a man sub- 
missive and obedient to God in such high for- 
tunes. 

" It was on such occasions that M. Turenne 
gave the greatest proofs of his piety : he was 
often seen to withdraw into woods, and, in the 
midst of tfjc rain and dirt, prostrate himself 



AMPLIFICATION. 131 

before God. He ordered prayers to be said in 
the camp every day, at which he assisted in 
person with singular devotion. 

" Even in the heat of battle, when success 
appeared infallible, and news was brought him 
of it from all quarters, he used to suppress the 
joy of the officers, by saying.; * If God does 
not support us, and finish his own work, we 
may still be defeated.' * 

This subject, as treated by M. Mascaron, in the 
funeral oration of M. Turenne. 

" Do not imagine that our hero lost those re- 
ligious sentiments at the head of armies, and 
in the midst of victories. Certainly, if there is' 
any conjuncture in which the soul, full of it- 
self, is in danger of forgetting God, it is in those 
illustrious stations where a man becomes as a 
god to others, by the wisdom of his condticf, 
the greatness of his courage, the strength of his 
arm, and the number of his soldiers; and, be- 
ing wholly inspired with glory, inspires all be- 
sides with love, admiration, or terror. Even 
the externals of war, the sound of trumpets, the 
glitter of arms, the order of the tioops, the si- 
lence of the soldiers, their ardor in fight ; the 



AMPLIFICATION. 

beginning 1 , progress, and end of the victory ; 
the different cries of the conquered and the 
conquerors ; all these assail the soul on different 
sides, which, deprived of all wisdom and mo- 
deration, knows neither God, nor itself. It is 
then the impious Salmoneus presumes to imi- 
tate the thunder of God, and to answer the 
thunderbolts of Heaven with those of the earth. 
It was then the sacrilegious Antiochus worship- 
ped nothing but his own strength and courage ; 
and the insolent Pharaoh, swoln with the pride 
of his power, cried out, I am my own maker. 
But do religion and humility ever appear more 
majestic, than when they keep the heart of 
man, though in so exalted a point of glory, in 
that submission and dependence which the crea- 
ture ought to observe with regard to his God ? 

" M. Turenne was never more sensible that 
there was a God, than on those extraordinary 
occasions, when others generally forget their 
Creator. It was then his prayers were most 
fervent. We have seen him retiring into woods, 
where, in the midst of rain, with his knees in 
the dirt, he adored that God in this humble 
posture, before whom legions of angels tremble, 
and prostrate themselves. The Israelites, to 



AMPLIFICATION. 135 

secure themselves of victory, ordered the ark 
of the covenant to be brought into (heir camp : 
and M . Turenne did not believe his could be 
safe, if not fortified daily by the oblation of the 
divine victim, who triumphed over all the 
powers of hell. He assisted at it with a devo- 
tion and modesty capable of inspiring awe in 
those obdurate souls, on whom the sight of the 
most tremendous mysteries makes no impres- 
sion. 

" Even in the progress of victory itself, and 
in those moments of self-love, when a general 
sees fortune declare in his favour, his piety was 
watchful to prevent his giving the jealous God 
the least offence, by too hasty an assurance of 
conquering. Though the cries of victory echoed 
round him ; though the officers flattered them- 
selves and him also with assurance of success ; 
he still checked all the extreme emotions of 
joy, in which human pride has so great a share, 
by these words, highly worthy of his piety : 
Jf God does not support us, and accomplish his 
work, we may still be defeated." ROLLIN. 

The modesty of M. Turenne. His private life. 
" No person ever spoke more modestly of 



134 AMPLIFICATION. 

himself than M. Turenne. He related his mosl 
surprising victories, as if he had no share in 
them. At his return from the most glorious 
campaigns, he avoided praise, and was afraid 
of appearing in the king's presence, for fear of 
applause. It was then, in a private state, 
among a few friends, he exercised himself in 
the virlues of civil life. He conceals himself, 
and walks without attendance or equipage : but 
every one observes and admires him." 

This theme extended by Flechier* 

" Who ever performed such great exploits,, 
and who more reserved in speaking of them 2 
When he gained an advantage, he himself as- 
cribed it to the enemy's oversight, and not to 
his own abilities. When he gave an account 
of a battle, he forgot nothing,, but its being 
gained by his own conduct. If he related any 
of those actions which had rendered him so fa- 
mous, one would have concluded he had only 
been a spectator, and might doubt whether he 
himself or fame was mistaken. When he re- 
turned from those glorious campaigns, which 
immortalize him, he avoided all acclamations 
of the people ; he blushed at his victories j he 



AMPLIFICATION. 135 

received applauses with the same air that others 
make apologies, and was almost afraid of wait- 
ing upon the king, being obliged, through re- 
spect, to hear patiently the encomiums with 
which his Majesty never failed to honour him. 

" It was then, in the calm repose of a pri- 
vate state, that this prince, divesting himself 
of all the glory he had acquired in the field, 
and shutting himself up with a small company 
of chosen friends, practised in silence the vir- 
tues of civil life : sincere in his words, plain in 
his actions, faithful in friendship, exact in du- 
ties, regular in his wishes, and great even in the 
minutest things. He concealed himself; but 
his fame discovers him. He walks without at- 
tendance ; but every one images him riding in 
a triumphal chariot. When people see him, 
they count the number of the enemies he ha* 
conquered, and not the attendants that follow 
him. Though alone, they conceive him sur- 
rounded with his attendant virtues and victories. 
There is something inexpressibly great and 
noble in this virtuous simplicity ; and the less 
haughty he is, the more venerable he ap- 
pears." ROLLIN 



136 AMPLIFICATION. 

The Queen of England's escape by sea. 

" The queen was obliged to leave her king- 
dom. She sailed out of the English ports in 
sight of the rebel fleet, which pursued her close. 
This voyage was far different from that she 
had made on the same sea, when she went to 
take possession of the sceptre of great Britain. 
At that time every thing was propitious ; now 
all the reverse." 

" *The queen was obliged to leave her king- 
dom. And indeed she sailed out of the Eng 
lish ports in sight of the rebellious navy, which 
chased her so close, that she almost heard their 
cries and insolent threats. Alas ! how different 
was this voyage from that she made on the same 
sea, when, corning to take possession of the 
sceptre of Great Britain, she saw the billows 
smooth themselves, as it were, under her, to 
pay homage to the queen of the seas ! Now 
chased, pursued, by her implacable enemies; 
who had been so audacious as to draw up an- 
accusation against her : sometimes just escaped, 

* The queen of England's funeral oration, by M. Bos- 
suet. 



AMPLIFICATION. 137 

sometimes just taken ; her fortune shifting every 
quarter of an hour, having no other assistance 
but God, and her own invincible fortitude, she 
had neither winds nor sails enough to favour 
her precipitate flight." ROLLIN. 

Perhaps the following instance from Mr. 
Burke will be still more pleasing, and I am 
sure it is more eloquent than those I have just 
quoted. You will observe that he might have 
said the whole in few words that Mr. Howard 
evinced his philanthropy in foregoing every 
comfort, and despising every danger, for the 
sake of relieving the distresses of his fellow 
creatures 

" I cannot name this gentleman without re- 
marking, that his labours and writings have 
done much to open the eyes and hearts of man- 
kind. He has visited all Europe not to sur- 
vey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the state- 
liness of temples ; not to make accurate mea- 
surements of the remains of antient grandeur ; 
nor to form a scale of the curiosify of modern 
art ; nor to collect medals, or collate manu- 
scripts : but to dive into the depth of dun- 
geons ; to plunge into the infection of hospi- 
tals; to survey the mansions of sorrow and 



138 AMPLIFICATION. 

pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of mi- 
sery, depression, and contempt ; to remember 
the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to vi- 
sit the forsaken, and to compare and collate 
the distresses of all men in all countries. His 
plan is original ; and it is as full of genius as 
it is of humanity. It was a voyage of disco- 
very ; a circumnavigation of charity. Already 
the benefit of his labour is felt more or less in 
every country : I hope he anticipates his final 
reward, by seeing- all its effects fully realized 
in his own. He will receive, not by retail but 
in gross, the reward of those who visit the prU 
soner ; and he has so forestalled and monopo- 
lized this branch of charity, that there will be, 
I trust, little room to merit by such acts of 
benevolence hereafter." ADDRESS TO THE 
ELECTORS OF BRISTOL. 

The beauty of this last quotation depends 
not entirely on the lively detail of circumstances 
connected with the subject, but on allusions to 
matters really foreign to it ; and of these I shall 
tr,eat in my succeeding letter. 



FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 139 



LETTER X. 

Figurative Language. Comparisons and ^Si- 
milies. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

A VIVID imagination is not satisfied with 
bringing before the reader's mind all the cir- 
cumstances immediately connected with the 
principal subject, and placing them in a strik- 
ing point of view ; it borrows colours and forms 
from other objects to diversify and adorn the 
picture it draws 

" The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, 
" Doth glance from heav'n to earth, from earth to hea- 
ven; 

" And, as imagination bodies forth 
" The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
" Turns them to shape," &c. 

You will easily perceive that I am now go- 
ing to speak of figurative language. It is called 
figurative, because the author's meaning is ex- 
pressed, not by the strict and proper phrases, 
but under the image or appearance of some- 



140 .FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 

thing else. Thus figurative language, if taken 
according to the literal sense of the words, 
would usually mislead. 

It is extraordinary, however, that what ap- 
pears a deviation from nature or reason should 
be so extremely common, that scarcely a sen- 
tence occurs without some word in it used in a 
figurative sense. Indeed if you will read with 
attention Mr. Tooke's " Epea Pteroenta" (a 
work which every one ought to read) you will 
find that our most common particles are words 
distorted from their natural and primitive mean- 
ing. Dr. Blair used to remark on this subject, 
that at the moment he was speaking on a di- 
dactic subject, he was addressing his audience 
in figurative language. 

The origin of figures has been referred. to the 
poverty of language ; but I rather consider 
them either as the sport of the fancy, or as the 
expression of passion or enthusiasm. We see 
imagery, and especially from natural objects, 
employed by the rudest and most savage na- 
tions, not from necessity, but from choice. 
The few specimens which we have had trans- 
lated of Indian eloquence are abundantly figura- 
tive, and no writings can be more conspicuous. 



FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 141 

in this respect than the earliest productions of 
the Arabians. The writings of the Hebrews 
proceed from a higher source than mere human 
invention, yet we may easily conceive them, in 
style and manner, adapted to the circumstances 
of (lie age and the taste of the people. They 
are highly figurative, and that most accurate 
critic, Bishop L/owth, in his incomparable 
" Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the He- 
brews," has shewn that their imagery was all 
derived from those objects with which, from the 
time and situation of the country and nation, 
they were most familiar. 

This branch of ornament is much more easily 
reduced to rule and methodical arrangement 
than that of which I have just been treating, 
But though it is easy to class the different forms 
of figurative language, still treatises on rhetoric 
will afford you as little substantial aid in this 
instance as in the former ; for however reluctant 
the professor in this art may be, to own a truth 
destructive of his very profession, still he must 
confess with Butler ; 

" That all a rhetorician's rules 

'" Teach nothing but to name his tools.*' 



142 FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 

It is genius alone that can enable you to use 
them ; and it is a mind copiously stored with 
knowledge that can furnish the materials. The 
only essential service that can be rendered to a 
young writer in this way, is to caution him 
against the indiscreet and indiscriminate use of 
this species of ornament : for though its effect, 
is fine in impassioned composition, and under 
the direction of a good taste, nothing can be 
more vapid, cold, and disgusting than a style 
overcharged with common-place metaphors 
arid comparisons. 

Figurative language, it is obvious^ must de- 
pend upon the principle of association, and of 
the three relations cause and effect, contiguity, 
and resemblance ; the latter is the most fertile 
in the production of tropes and figures. That 
fancy which is most excursive, and which is 
the best stored with various knowledge, will be 
the most active in forming the combinations 
essential to figurative language. The various 
knowledge which extended to the detail of al- 
most every subject in nature, and in art, is most 
conspicuous in Shakspeare, and in Butler ; and 
among the moderns none have excelled Mr. 



FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 143 

Burke in the boldness and variety of his ima- 
gery. 

I shall not perplex you with the distinction 
between tropes and figures ; but since I have 
casually mentioned them, and since the words 
will often occur in conversation, I shall observe 
that in truth, each of these words is but a par- 
tial mode of expressing the same thing. A trope 9 
-foiro* in Greek, signifies no more than the turn-' 
ing of a word from its original meaning. Fi- 
gure, as I before observed, i when an idea 
is expressed under the appearance of some- 
thing else. The antient critics classed as tropes 
the metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and 
irony; the figures were almost innumerable. 

Leaving then to Farnaby, and his brethren, 
the many useless distinctions which the Greeks 
have made as to what are called figures, I shall 
proceed to treat of those forms of expression, in 
the order which is suggested by the three rela- 
tions of resemblance, contiguity, and cause and 
effect. 

From the relation of resemblance proceed the 
comparison or simile, the metaphor, the alle- 
gory, and the allusion ; on the other relations 



COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES. 

depend the metonymy, the synecdoche, the pe- 
riphrasis, the prosopopeia, and probably the 
apostrophe. 

The comparison appears to be the first and 
most natural of all the rhetorical figures. When 
at a loss to explain our meaning, we are dis- 
posed always to apply to the associating prin- 
ciple to furnish an illustration. In this way, 
a comparison may occur in the simplest and 
plainest composition, even in a lecture on ex- 
perimental philosophy. 

But I wish rather to treat of them here as a 
source of ornament, and when judiciously ap- 
plied there is scarcely any ornament more 
pleasing. I must observe, however, that the 
mind of the author must be supposed to be in 
a cool state, when it descends to this sport of 
the imagination. Simiiies are not the natural 
language of passion ; they will apply in descrip- 
tion, in narrative, but will not serve to express 
the vehement emotions of the mind; since then, 
if the imagination is disposed to be excursive, 
it will naturally drop the words expressing the 
resemblance, and snatching the image forcibly 
at once, express itself in metaphor. 



COMPARISONS AND SIMIL1ES. 145 

Hence you will perceive that the difference 
between a simile and a metaphor is, thai in the 
former the resemblance is brought before the 
reader's view by comparing the ideas together, 
and by words expressing a likeness ; a meta- 
phor is a comparison without the words ex- 
pressing resemblance. I may add, that a dis- 
tinction might be established between the words 
comparison and simile. The former is the ge- 
neral word comprehending the whole class, or 
when used in a limited sense, is more immedi- 
ately appropriated to the most perfect of the 
kind ; that in which the resemblance is minutely 
traced through all the agreeing parts of the ob- 
jects assimilated. The word simile seems chiefly 
appropriated to poetry ; and I think implies a 
slighter and more fanciful resemblance. 

The Hebrew writings are unquestionably the 
oldest that have been transmitted to us : their 
imagery is almost exclusively derived from na- 
tural objects ; this imparts to them a simplicity 
which can be attributed to no other writings. 
vSome of theij: comparisons are however remark- 
ably bold, and some incomparably beautiful, 
as you will see by consulting a work, which 

VOL. I. H 



146 COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES. 

contributed beyond any other to the improve* 
ment of my taste, Bishop Lowth's Lectures on 
the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews. 

One imperfection, however, I have to remark 
in the similies of the Hebrews, and of the Ori- 
entals in general, that the resemblance is often 
too fanciful and remote. Of this I shall pro* 
duce an instance from the book of Job) c. vi. 
v. 1520. 

" My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a 
brook, and as the stream of brooks they pass 
away : which are blackish by reason of the ice, 
and wherein the snow is hid. What time they 
were warm they vanish : when it is hot they 
consume out of their place. The paths of their 
way are turned aside : they go to nothing and 
perish. The troops of Tema looked, the com- 
panions of Sheba waited for them. They were 
confounded because they had hoped ; they came 
thither and were ashamed." 

The 133d Psalm consists of one of these fan- 
ciful sirailies, but it is extremely beautiful. It 
is somewhat amplified by Buchanan, and in 
translating it I made use of a part of his ima* 
gery. 



COMPARISONS AND SlMlLlES. 147 

Sweet is the love that mutual glows 

Within each brother's breast ; 
And binds in gentlest bonds each heart, 

All blessing, and all blest. 

Sweet as the odorous balsam ponrM 

On Aaron's sacred head, 
Which o'er his beard, and down his vest, 

A breatliing fragrance shed. 

Like morning dews on Sion's motmt, 

That spread their silver rays; 
And deck with gems the verdant pomp 

That Herman's top displays. 

Another particular may also be remarked, 
which is, that the Hebrew similies are frequently 
very short. The resemblance usually turns 
upon a single circumstance, which they ex- 
plain in few words, and seldom introduce any 
matter at all foreign to the purpose. 

The classical writers are more sparing of 
their similies, and they introduce them with 
greater pomp and fqrni. There is however a 
disgusting sameness in those of the antient epic 
poets. In their descriptions of battles, for in- 
stance, the imagery of a lion, a bull, an eagle, 
and others of the fiercer animals so commonl 



148 COMPARISON'S AND SIMILIES. 

occurs, that I am frequently more disposed to 
pass over their similies than to stop and admire 
them. 

The modern writers are possessed of consi- 
derable advantages, in this respect, and to these 
they have not been inattentive. The more 
extensive views which they possess of sciences, 
and arts, and of the history of nature in parti- 
cular, has opened to them a wider and more 
varied field in poetical imagery. They now 
decorate our gravest productions, and sur- 
prize by their novelty and fanciful application. 
A very beautiful comparison presents itself at 
this moment to my memory, from the elegant 
and lively sermons of Dr. Ogden. In one of 
his discourses against slander " Censure," says 
the preacher, "is in season so very seldom, 
that it may be compared to that bitter plant, 
which hardly comes to its maturity in the life 
of a man, and is said to flower but once in a 
hundred years." 

The following is fanciful, yet perhaps the 
transitory nature, as well as the splendour of 
traditional fame, is well imagined under this 
image " Then let us be renowned while we 
may, and leave our fame behind us, like the 



COMPARISONS AND SIMIL1ES. 149 

last beams of the sun, -when he hides his red 
head in the west." OSSIAN. 

From yhat I have observed, it will follow, 
that the author who possesses the greatest scope 
of knowledge, if he has an active and lively 
fancy, will have the greatest command of ima- 
gery, and will produce the boldest and most 
varied comparisons. Yet the metaphysical 
poets of Charles the Second's reign, as they are 
very properly termed by Dr. Johnson, were 
guilty of such abuses that they disgust us with 
the figurative style. Their imagery was not 
select, nor under the regulation of good taste ; 
without which even genius itself will be able to 
effect but little. Several rules have therefore 
been established with respect to the use of com- 
parisons, which may serve to restrain the vi- 
cious exuberances of youthful genius. i 
1st. A comparison taken from a common or 
vulgar object, should have something particu- 
larly ingenious in it to render it tolerable. I 
shall not name the poet from whom the follow- 
ing distich is extracted, but you will be surprised 
to know that he is of a very high reputation. 

" The rage of jealousy then fired his soul, 
ft And hi face kindled like a burning coal." 



150 COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES. 

Such nonsense as the following is scarcely ta 
be endured " A good sermon, like a good 
peach, is indeed a composition of rich material*.. 
which the maker has associated to bring it to its 
proper flavour, but which the eater may re- 
lish, and from which he may derive nourish- 
ment without being obliged to learn chemistry,, 
or knowing how to decompound, and reduce 
the whole to its parts." ROBINSON'S TRANS- 
LATION OP CLAUSE'S ESSAY, c. 4. NOTE. 

Even Dr. Campbell, who has written so well 
on the principles of rhetoric, is scarcely more 
fortunate " A paraphrase," he observes, " is 
like a torpedo, for it benumbs the sense ; and 
the gospel, by this means, becomes like a wine 
of a rich flavour, diluted in such a quantity of 
water as renders it extremely vapid." The 
same simile, by the way, lie has repeated in 
another place. 

Yon must however be aware that compari- 
sons taken from low and mean objects are well 
adapted to the burlesque. 

2dly. They ought not ta be trite ; such as 
comparing a violent passion to a tempest ; vir- 
tue to the sun ; one in, distress to a flower droop- 
ing its head. 



COMPARISONS AND S1MILIES. 151 

Sdly. Comparisons or similies ought to be 
founded on a likeness neither too obvious nor 
too remote : if the likeness is too obvious it dis- 
gusts, if too remote it perplexes; in the one 
case the reader easily perceives it, and there- 
fore conceives the writer to be a person of in- 
ferior genius ; in the other ease it savours of af- 
fectation ami pedantry. Some of Milton's seem 
of too obvious a kind, where he compares Eve 
to a Dryad, and the bower of Paradise to the 
arbour of Pomona. For there appears no art 
or ingenuity in saying one arbour is like ano- 
ther, or that a woman resembles a wood nymph. 

4thly. They should not be drawn from ob- 
jects quite unknown, for these, instead of throw- 
ing light upon a subject, can only serve to ren- 
der it more obscure. 

Sthly. From what I have observed before, 
neither this nor any other figure should be bor- 
rowed from metaphysical ideas. But for the 
incomparable exposure of this fault I refer you 
to Dr. Johnson's Life of the poet Cowley* 



152 METAPHORS. 

LETTER XL 

Metaphors, 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

1 OBSERVED in my last letter tiat a meta- 
phor is a comparison, without the words indi- 
cating resemblance. When a savage experi- 
enced a sensation, for which he had as yet no 
name, he applied that of the idea which most 
resembled it, in order to explain himself. Thus 
the words expressing the faculties of the mind 
are taken from sensible images, as fancy from 
phantasm : idea in the original language means 
an image or picture ; and a way has always 
been used to express the mode of attaining our 
end or desire. 

There is, however, as I have already express- 
ed, another reason for the use of metaphorical 
language, and which, in an advanced state 
of society, is the most common ; that is, when 
the mind is agitated, the associations are more 
strongly felt, and the connected ideas will more 
readily present themselves than at another time. 
On this account a man in a passion will fre- 



METAPHORS. 153 

quently reject the words which simply express 
kis thoughts, and for the sake of giving them 
more force, will make use of images stronger, 
more lively, and more congenial to the tone of 
his mind. 

The principal advantage which the metaphor 
possesses over the simile or comparison, seems 
to consist in the former transporting the mind, 
and carrying it nearer the reality than the lat- 
ter ; as when we say" Achilles rushed like a 
lion," we have only the idea of a man going on 
furiously to battle ; but when we say instead 
of Achilles u The lion rushed on," the image 
is more vivid. Thus also when Virgil calls the 
Scipios " the thunderbolts of war," the idea is 
more animated than if he had compared them 
to thunderbolts. There is also more of brevity 
in a style that abounds in metaphors, than in a 
style which consists more of comparisons, and 
therefore it proves a better vehicle for the pas- 
sionate or sublime. 

The rule which good writers seem to have 
adopted respecting the distinct use of similies 
or metaphors is this : Where the resemblance is 
very strong and obvious, it may be expressed 
by a simple metaphor, and it will in general be 
H 5 



154 METAPHORS. 

expressed more forcibly ; but where the re- 
semblance is not so obvious, it requires to be 
more expanded, and then a comparison or si- 
mile will neither appear formal nor pompous. 

There is another observation concerning the 
use of these figures, which is more common, 
though I do not think the reason of it is gene- 
rally understood. Comparisons, as I had oc- 
casion to observe before, are unnatural in ex- 
tremes of passion, though metaphors are not. 
The truth is, the mind, when strongly agitated, 
readily catches at slight associations, and me- 
taphors therefore are instantaneously formed ; 
but it is impossible that the imagination in that 
state should dwell upon them with the formality 
and exactness of a person making a compari- 
son. 

A metaphor is not always confined to a single 
word. It may extend to a whole sentence, 
though when much expanded, rhetoricians call 
it by another name, an ALLEGORY. It is not 
easy to say under which head we should rank 
the following bold and animated figure : 

" The swarm of monks that arose from the 
Nile, overspread and darkened the face of the 
Christian world." GIBBON'S HIST. c. 20, 



METAPHORS. 

Some metaphors, and particularly those 
which consist of a single word, have become 
so common that they are scarcely to be consi- 
dered as figurative. Thus when we speak of 
an arm of the sea, or of the /oof of a mountain, 
we scarcely seem to speak figurative language ; 
though these are in reality what may be called 
hard metaphors. 

The principal uses of metaphors are, 

1st. As was intimated in speaking of the ad- 
vantages they possess over comparisons, they 
render a style more animated, by introducing a 
gew ide% in which for the moment the original 
seems to be lost or absorbed. In this way they 
serve even to enrich a language, and most lan- 
guages without them would be exceedingly li- 
mited, at least in the application of words, 
which would produce necessarily great stiffness 
and formality. 

2dly . They greatly vary and diversify a style, 
and consequently relieve us from that tedious 
uniformity which would be the result of a style 
where every word was used in the literal sense. 
. Sdly. They serve to enlarge and elevate our 
subject ; for we can borrow a metaphor from 
something which possesses the quality we mean 



156 METAPHORS. 

to ascribe to it, in a higher or more extensive 
degree. Thus a huge dog, or even a man, de- 
scribed under the metaphor of an elephant, 
will appear to the imagination of the hearer as 
greater perhaps than the object really is. A 
" torrent of words" magnifies in imagination 
the loudness and rapidity of the speaker : though 
this metaphor, like some of those which I have 
mentioned, is now so common, that its force as 
a figure is greatly weakened. Sometimes even 
a metaphor or comparison taken from an infe- 
rior subject will have this effect, by impressing 
the circumstance more strongly on the mind, by 
means of a familiar idea. Thus, when in the 
book of Job, leviathan is described as " making 
the deep to boil like a pot," our notion of 
the magnitude and strength of the animal is 
not lessened, since we still carry in our minds 
the idea of the ocean, and apply the simile of 
the boiling cauldron only to the agitation occa- 
sioned by his motions. 

4thly. For these reasons they bestow dignity 
on composition. How much nobler is it to say, 
a the vault of heaven," than to use the com- 
mon word, " the sky." So we say, "the 
evening of life," for " old age." Thus the 



METAPHORS. 157 

expression, " Death spares neither the rich nor 
the poor," is low, when compared with Ho- 
race: 

<f Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas 
" Regumque turres." 

" With equal pace impartial fate 

" Knocks at the palace, as the cottage gate." 

5thly. By metaphors, two objects are pre- 
sented at the same time, without any confusion ; 
as in the example already mentioned, we can, at 
the same time, have a clear and distinct view of 
the evening and of old age. 

Gthly. They often afford us a more clear and 
striking view of things; they place them in a 
picturesque manner before our eyes ; so in that 
example we easily call to mind, that as noon 
succeeds to morning, and evening to noon, so 
youth is followed by manhood, and that by old 
age. The dark and silent evening too presents 
us with a striking picture of the gradual decline 
and deprivation of the faculties, both bodily 
and mental, " When the grasshopper shall be 
a burthen, and desire shall fail," &c. 

Though however metaphors thus enliven and 
diversify composition, much taste is required 



158 METAPHORS, 

in the employment of them. Young writers 
especially are too apt to be enamoured of them, 
and to use them in too great profusion, and 
with too little discrimination and selection. 
Nearly the same rules will apply to metaphors, 
as I have endeavoured to establish with respect 
to comparisons. I shall however subjoin a few 
further practical instructions. 

The first rule then that I would lay down is 
not to be too profuse of them. By introducing 
too many metaphors into one sentence, we red- 
der it obscure, instead of more perspicuous. If 
they are too gay also, they probably may not 
suit the subject. Young authors are very apt 
to fall into this mistake ; they commonly think 
that composition the best that is crowded with 
shining metaphors ; but, as Dr. Blair justly re- 
marks, we should remember that they are only 
the dress of the thoughts, and as the dress ought 
always to be suited to the station of the person 
who wears it, so language should be suited to 
the nature of the subject and the sentiment. 
We expect different language in argument and 
description ; in the first clearness only, in the 
other ornament also. When a man wears the 
dress of a person above his rank he is always 



METAPHORS. 159 

accounted a vain coxcomb : so when mean sen- 
timents are clothed in a pompous style, they 
only serve to make them more ridiculous. We 
have an example of Ihis (quoted by the author 
to whom I have just referred) in Dr. Sraollet's 
history, concerning the passing of a bill for 
preventing clandestine marriages. " At length 
it floated through both houses, on the tide of a 
great majority v and passed safe into the port of 
royal approbation." 

2dly. They should not be taken from objects 
which are mean, disgusting, or vulgar. These 
inevitably debase a subject instead of exalting 
it. So Cicero blames some orators of his time 
for calling his fellow citizens " stercus curiae."" 
Tillotson is sometimes guilty of this fault when 
he speaks of " thrusting religion," " driving 
a strict bargain with God." And, speaking of 
the last judgment, he talks of the " heavens 
cracking about our ears." See his sermon 
preached before Queen Ann, when Princess of 
Denmark. So Shakspeare alludes to a dunghill^ 
in his Henry the Fifth, when describing the 
<ieath of those who fell in France, fighting 
bravely in defence of their country. A simi- 
lar one is introduced into one of the execrable 



160 METAPHORS. 

versions of the Psalms, which have been u done" 
into English verse. 

" And Sis'ra which at Endor fell, 
" As dung to fat the ground." 

Mr. Burke, though a writer of incomparable 
fancy, is very faulty in this respect. 

Sdly. Metaphors ought not to be " far 
fetched," as it is sometimes, though not ele- 
gantly, termed ; in other words, they should 
be clear, easy, and natural. This circumstance 
has not escaped the notice of Cicero, in his 
book De Oratore, who says, they ought na- 
turally to rise from the subject. In opposition 
to this, Cowley is always searching where he 
can find the most remote connexion ;* he fre- 
quently uses metaphors where the reader cannot 
trace the smallest resemblance ; these darken 
the subject and bewilder by their perplexity, 
instead of throwing light on what was obscure. 
Thus when a common reader meets such a pas- 
sage as this : " When the radical idea branches 
out into parallel ramifications, how can a con- 
secutive series be formed of senses in their na- 

* See Johnson's Life of Cowley. 



METAPHORS. 1 6.1 

tuie collateral,'' he knows not what to think ; 
he pauses, and is perplexed, but not instructed. 
You will, perhaps, think I have selected this 
example to show what perplexed figures may 
be, or that it is taken from an author remark- 
ably dull, neither of which is the case ; you 
will find it in Dr. Johnson's preface to his Dic- 
tionary of the English Language. There is a 
metaphor equally harsh and obscure in Dr. 
Armstrong's Poem on Health, where he speaks 
of " tenacious paste of solid milk," which no 
ordinary reader would be likely to take for a 
cheese! Dr. Young is an author, many of 
whose metaphors are new, striking, and ad- 
mirably conducted, and yet he is very often 
faulty in this respect. Mr. Addison, on the 
contrary, excels in his metaphors ; they seem 
always to arise naturally and unsought, from 
the very series of thought ia which the sub- 
ject engages him. Thomson is on the whole 
a chaste writer, yet the metaphors in his Sea- 
sons are often forced, and what some have call- 
ed unideal : such as, " Showery radiance, 
breezy coolness, moving softness, refreshing 
breaths, dewy light, lucid coolness," &c. 
4thly . We should never confound the figura* 



162 METAPHORS. 

tive and literal sense ; as when Penelope, in the 
Odyssey, complains that her son had kft he* 
without taking leave. 

" Now from my fond embrace by tempests torn, 

" Our other column of the state is borne: 

" Nor took a kind adieu, nor sought consent," &c. 

First Telemachus, in these lines, is made a co- 
lumn, and that with propriety ; but that co- 
lumn is blamed for not bidding farewel and sa- 
luting, which changes the column again into a 
person. 

5thly. Metaphors should not be mixed or 
confounded together. Thus Shakspeare speaks 
of taking " arms against a sea of troubles," 
and of u war snarling at the very picked bone 
of majesty," " charms dissolve apace, &c. Mr. 
Addison himself has fallen into this mistake. 
Jn his letter from Italy he says, 

*' I bridle in my struggling Muse in vain, 
" That longs to launch into a bolder strain." 

Here the first line is proper enough ; but when 
the Muse is changed from a horse to a ship, it 
becomes improper. It has, therefore, been 
given as a rule to be observed by orators, that 



I 

METAPHOilS. 163 

they ought to figure to themselves the meta- 
phors they employ as if painted before theiu^ 
and observe whether any thing would appear 
improper or ridiculous, if the whole was drawn 
by the pencil of an artist. 

Gthly. They ought not to be crowded or 
heaped one upon another. Horace is guilty of 
this, in joining three metaphors in a few lines, 
lib. ii. ode 1. 

" Motum ex Metello consule civicum 
" Bellique causas, et vitia et modos, 
" Ludumque fortunae, gravesque 
" Principum amicitias et arma 
'* Nundum expiatis uncta cruoribus : 
" Periculosae plenum opus ales 
" Tractas: et incedis per ignes 
" Suppositos cineri dolose." 

" Of warm contentions, wrathful jars, 

' * The growing seeds of civil wars ; 

w Of double fortune's cruel games, 

" The specious means, the private aims, 

" And fatal friendships of the guilty great, 

" Alas ! how fatal to the Roman state. 

" Of mighty legions late subdued, 

" And arms with Latian blood embru'd; 

" Yet unatgn'd (a labour vast, 

*' Doubtful the dice, and dire the cast) 



164; METAPHORS. 

" You treat adventurous, and incautious tread 
" On fires with faithless embers overspread." 

FRANCIS. 

Under circumstances of great agitation, how- 
ever, a flow of metaphors seems allowable, and 
even natural. No critic, I believe, ever 
found the following fine passage of Shakspeare 
too redundant in metaphor : 

" Can'st thou not minister to a mind diseased? 

" Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ? 

" Rase out the living tablets of the brain ; 

" And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 

" Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff, 

" That weighs upon the heart." MACBETH. 

Tthly. They should not be too far pursued. 
Cowley is often faulty in this respect Shafts* 
bury also frequently pursues his metaphors too 
far ; he is so fond of embellishing his style 
with them, that when he has once found one to 
please him, he can never think of parting with 
it. This author, indeed, from his strained me- 
taphors, and his inversion of language, is 
scarcely better understood than if he had writ- 
ten in Greek or Latin, 



ALLEGORY. 165 

LETTER XII. 

Allegory. Allusion. Catachresif. Antithesis. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

I HAVE already intimated that an allegory 
is a metaphor protracted to some considerable 
length. " When several kindred metaphors," 
Cicero observes, " succeed one another, they 
alter the form of a composition ; and on that 
account a succession of this kind is called by 
the Greeks an allegory ; and properly, as far as 
relates to the etymology of the word. Aristotle, 
however, instead of considering it as a new 
species of figure, has more judiciously com- 
prised such modes of expression under the ge- 
neral appellation of metaphors." 

I confess I should myself be disposed to adopt 
the sentiment of Aristotle, and to appropriate 
the term allegory to another form of composi- 
tion, which I shall have presently to mention. 
Custom and authority have, however, decreed 
'it otherwise, and we must therefore admit of 



two kinds of allegory : the one the continued 
metaphor ; the other, the continued narration 
of a fictitious event, applied in the way of com- 
parison to the illustration of the subject. These 
latter kind of allegories are called by the Greeks 
*nos, or apologues ; by the Latins fabulae, or 
fables ; and by the Hebrews parables^ though 
the word parable is also applied to a proverbial 
speech or a pointed axiom. Such are the 
fables of JSsop and Pilpay, the Indian Sage ; 
such is the charming parable which I had oc- 
casion to mention in my second letter, and the 
still more charming narratives of our Saviour, 
conveyed under the name of parables. Such, 
in later times, is the Fairy Queen of Spenser, 
which consists of a series of these allegories ; 
and the very popular work among the common 
people, " The Pilgrim's Progress*' of Bunyan. 
The first of these kinds of allegory differing 
only in length from the simple metaphor, there 
is but little necessity, after what I have ob- 
served on that subject in my last letter, to enter 
into the many particulars concerning its use 
or introduction. I must remark, however, thai 
no figure is more delicate or difficult in the 
hands of a young writer. If the great difficulty 



ALLEGORY. 167 

in the use of a metaphor is to preserve the allu- 
sion in all its parts, how much must the diffi- 
culty be increased in applying a series of me- 
taphors to illustrate the same subject ? In short, 
there is scarcely any error so common as this 
of forgetting the figurative and resorting to the 
literal sense, even in the best writers. In the 
following passage of Shakspeare's King John, 
the figures are grossly discordant. It relates 
to the projected union of the King with Con* 
stance 

" For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 
" Thy now unsured assurance to the crown, 
** That yon green boy shall have no sun to sip 
" The bloom that promises a mighty fruit.'* 

It is evident that there is no connexion be- 
tween the tying of a knot and the sun's ripening 
fruit; and to heighten the absurdity, the 
" bloom that promises a mighty fruit," is not 
on a tree but on a boy. Had the word branch 
been used instead of boy> this latter incongruity 
might have been avoided. 

An allegorical couplet of Blackmore is for 
a similar reason well ridiculed by the authors of 
the art of scribbling in poetry 



168 ALLEGORY. 

" A waving sea of heads around them spread, 
n And still pert streams the gazing deluge fed. 1 * 

A crowd of people is not improperly com* 
pared to a deluge, but when eyes are given to 
this metaphorical sea, the illusion is destroyed, 
and the effect is ridiculous. 

The absurdity even of this is however ex* 
ceeded by an allegorical sentence contained in 
a public instrument at a time when better 
writing might have been expected. " We can- 
not but acknowledge, to our very great sorrow 
and shame, that ourselves, though we hope 
through our weakness and frailly, not out of 
design, have very much contributed to those 
provocations which have caused God to depart 
from our Israel. But we see, when God's hour 
is come, and the time of his people's deliver- 
ance, even the set time at hand, he cometh, 
skipping over all the mountains of sins and un- 
worthiness that we daily cast in his way/' &c.-~ 
Monk and the Army's Address on re- assembling 
the Long Parliament* 

Even the ingenious and generally accurate 
Gibbon, is not free from these vices of compo- 
sition. In his last vol. p* 640, we read, " that 



ALLEGORY. 169 

Benedict the Fourteenth consecrated a spot 
which persecution and fable had stained with 
the blood of so many Christian martyrs." Here 
it is evident that the two nouns, one in the 
figurative, and the other in the literal sense, 
are wholly inconsistent with each other, and 
destroy the metaphor or allegory, which ever 
it may be called ; though the author probably 
meant this mode of expression for a beauty. 

After these instances of faulty and imperfect 
allegories, it is but right that I should give you 
an example of a good one. It is from Prior's 
Henry and Emma ; and it comes naturally from 
the lips of an enamoured and virtuous female 

" Did I but purpose to embark with thee 

" On the smooth surface of a summer's sea, 

" While gentle zephyrs play with prosperous gales, 

" And fortune's favour fills the swelling sails : 

" But would forsake the ship, and make the shore, 

" When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar? 

" No, Henry no ! one sacred oath has tied 

'- Our lives, one destiny our fate shall guide, 

" Nor wild nor deep our common way divide." 

The following from Shakspeare is perhaps 
faulty in confounding in some measure the li- 
VOL. i. i 



170 . ALLEGORY. 

teral with the figurative meaning, as in the fifth 
line. It is however very beautiful : the third 
line is finely descriptive 

" This is the state of man : To day he puts forth 
" The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
" And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : 
" The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
" And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
" His greatness is a ripening nips his rooj, 
" And then he falls, &c. HENRY vm. 

As I have shewn you also that Mr. Gibbon 
could commit an error in the construction of a 
figure, it is but fair to shew you also what he 
was capable of effecting when on his guard. 
The example I quote is from the 21st chap, of 
his history, a work to which I must often refer 
when I wish to exhibit the force of a fine ima- 
gination exerted in producing almost every 
beauty of style. The historian, in speaking of 
the speculative dissentions which existed in the 
Christian church at the period he is describing, 
adds, " It will not be expected, it would not 
perhaps be endured, that I should swell this 
theological digression, by a minute examina- 
tion of the eighteen creeds, the authors of which. 



ALLEGORY. 171 

for the most part, disclaimed the odious name 
of their parent Arius. It is amusing enough to 
delineate the form, and to trace the vegetation 
of a singular plant ; but the tedious detail of 
leaves without flowers, and of branches with- 
out fruit, would soon exhaust the patience, 
and disappoint the curiosity of the laborious 
student." 

You will easily see that almost all the rules 
respecting metaphors are applicable to this kind 
of allegory. Dr. Blair, I must add> makes a 
very judicious distinction between these alle- 
gorical expressions and common metaphors. 
Besides the difference in point of length, " a 
metaphor," he observes, " always explains itself 
by the words that are connected with it, as 
when I say Achilles was a lion ; an able minis- 
ter is the pillar of the state ; my lion and my 
pillar are sufficiently interpreted by the men- 
tion of Achilles and the minister, which I join 
to them ; but an allegory is, or may be, allowed 
to stand more unconnected with the literal mean- 
ing, the interpretation not so directly pointed 
out, but left to our own reflexion." 

Though confounded under the same name, 
Hie second species of allegory to which I al- 
i V 



172 ALLUSION. 

luded differs greatly from that of which we have 
been treating, that, I mean, which represents a 
subject under the colour of a fictitious narra- 
tive. The few successful attempts of this kind 
extant, sufficiently evince that it is a species of 
composition extremely difficult, and indeed it 
is only tolerable in the hands of a writer of the 
first order. Even Spencer, though abounding 
in all the beauties of poetry, is scarcely read, 
and never interests; yet I must make an ex- 
ception in favour of the charming vision of 
Mirza, and some others in the Spectator. I may 
also recommend most of those in the Adven- 
turer, from the fascinating pen of Dr. Hawks- 
worth 

You will perhaps think me hypercritical in 
making a distinction between the metaphor, 
and what I term an allusion. The latter is 
however a slight reference to some well-known 
fact or matter of history ; and I think can pro- 
perly class neither under the head of metaphor 
nor allegory. An instance which will at once 
explain my meaning, presents itself to my me- 
mory from a well-known song of Prior 

" Obtain' d the chariot for a day, 
; >" And set the world on fire." 



CATACHRESIS. 173 

A more beautiful instance is furnished by 
Mr. Gibbon : 

" They (the Jews) cultivated with ardour 
the theological system of the Athenian sage. 
But their national pride would have been mor- 
tified by a fair confession of their former po- 
verty, and they boldly marked, as the sacred 
inheritance of their ancestors, the gold and 
jewels which they had so lately stolen from 
their Egyptian masters." GIBBON'S DECLINE 
AND FALL, c. 24. 

The following will probably be ranked as a 
comparison : 

"If it be the obscure, the minute, the cere- 
monial part of religion for which we are con- 
tending, though the triumph be empty, the dis- 
pute is dangerous. Like the men of Ai we 
pursue perhaps some little party that flies be- 
fore us, we are eager that not a straggler may 
escape ; but when we look behind, our city is 
in flames." DR. OGDEN'S SERMONS. 

The figure called catachresis, which I hope 
I need not tell you means an abuse of words, is 
commonly no more than a violent or over- 
strained metaphor, as when -*ve say of a person 



174 ANTITHESIS. 

for whom we have little respect, " that he in- 
flicted an obligation upon us." The vivid ima- 
gination of Mr. Burke was very fond of this 
figure : thus when he called the hair-brained 
revolutionists of France " architecls of ruin,'* 
it was certainly a catachresis; but it was a very 
fine one. 

All these figures you will easily perceive arc 
derived from the relation of resemblance ; and 
as metaphysicians have connected under one 
head the relations of resemblance and contra- 
riety, I think I may be allowed to conclude this 
letter with the notice of an important figure 
derived from this latter quality, I mean the 
antithesis. 

The antithesis in general, even the serious 
kind, may be considered as a species of witti- 
cism, and is therefore a much more favourite 
figure with the moderns than with the antients. 
For however inferior we may be to the classical 
writers in other instances, in wit and humour 
the moderns undoubtedly excel them. The 
only antient writer that I know who is very fond 
of the antithesis, is Seneca the rhetorician, in 
whose compositions this figure is continually 



'ANTITHESIS. 175 

and disgustingly introduced. Great as is my 
veneration for Dr. Johnson, I cannot help sus- 
pecting that he early studied in the school of 
Seneca, and that he there imbibed that predi- 
lection for the antithesis so conspicuous in his 
otherwise incomparable writings. 

The French were among the first of the mo- 
derns who cultivated the antithesis. The let- 
ters of Voiture, which are very studied, and 
not a little affected, are full of them. It is, 
however, the language of compliment, and 
what is called " a well turned compliment," is 
often no more than a pointed antithesis. Thus 
the writer, whom I just mentioned, tells his 
friend Balzac, " that self-knowledge, which 
was a cause of humility to other men, must 
with him have a quite contrary effect." 

Antitheses seern to have been introduced, at 
least the abuse of them, into the English lan- 
guage in the time of Charles II. With other 
species of false wit they pervaded all the elo- 
quence of the day. Even the pulpit was not 
free from them, and we are often disgusted with 
the harsh antithesis of South; take for example 
one sentence 

" These were notions not descending from 



176 ANTITHESIS. 

us, but born \vith us ; not our offspring, but 
our brethren ; and (as I may so say) such as 
were taught without the help of a teacher." 

There are hardly any rules to be observed 
respecting the introduction and the use of anti- 
theses ; your own taste and discretion must be 
your only guides. I may however in the first 
place remark, that as they always appear the 
effect of study, they are never natural in impas- 
sioned language. On the stage, therefore, they 
are seldom introduced with propriety, as they 
are neither the suitable expression of passion, 
nor can be supposed to occur naturally in con- 
versation. As they do not accord with the pas- 
sionate, and are efforts too minute for the su- 
blime, it forms an objection against that ini- 
mitable poem, the Night Thoughts, that it 
abounds too much with this figure. The su- 
blimity of the following lines is destroyed by 
the epigrammatic turn 

" Even silent night proclaims my soul immortal, 

" Even silent night proclaims eternal day : 

" For human weal Heaven husbands all events, 

<f Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain." 

In those compositions, however, where we 
expect the sport of fancy, and which may be 



ANTITHESIS. 177 

supposed to have cost the author some study, 
the effect of a spirited antithesis is consider- 
able ; and the less studied it appears the better. 
The two following (both from the same author) 
are natural and easy : 

" The use of the dagger is seldom adopted 
in public councils, as long as they retain any 
confidence in the power of the sword." GIB- 
BON'S HISTORY, c. 25. 

" In the horrid massacre of Thessalonica, the 
cruel Rufinus inflamed the fury without imi- 
tating the repentance of Theodosius." IBID. 
Writers of genius, it is true, sometimes unite 
the pathetic, and even the sublime, with this 
figure, as in the following instances from Dr. 
Johnson -. 

" Wherever the eye is turned it sees much 
misery, and there is much which it sees not ; 
many complaints are heard, and there are many 
pangs without complaint." SERMONS. 

In speaking of the pride of talents also 
" The time will come, it will come quickly, 
when it shall profit us more to have subdued 
one proud thought, than to have numbered the 
host of heaven." IBID. 

We should observe, as a 2d rule, to be- 
i5 



178 ANTITHESIS. 

ware of their too frequent introduction ; for a 
reader may tire even of brilliancy. Beautiful 
as the compositions of Dr. Johnson are, I have- 
sometimes felt a sameness in them ; a number 
of sentences ending in the same way, and read- 
ing almost like a chapter in the book of Pro- 
verbs. Mr. Gibbon is also too fond of anti- 
theses ; the figure is indeed better suited to dis- 
cussion than to narrative. 

3dly. The antithesis should rather be in 
things than in words, and should not only have 
contrast but ingenuity to recommend it, A 
late writer on education puts in opposition 
" a. false quantity and a false assertion." This 
is too much like a pun. 

In few words the antithesis, like every figure,, 
receives animation and elegance from the hand 
of genius ; but nolhing can be more frigid than 
a string of trite antitheses from a dull writer. 
I would much rather have plain fact, and plain 
truth, from such authors, than the affectation 
of wit and elegance. The imitators of Dr. 
Johnson have miserably failed, not because 
they were unable to ape his manner, but be- 
cause they wanted the solidity of his observa- 
tion, and the brilliancy pf his fancy. 



METONYMY. 179 



LETTER XIII. 

Metonymy. Synecdoche Periphrasis Per- 
sonification. Apostrophe. Hyperbole. 
Irony, 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

NOT to detain you much longer in the rudi- 
ments of rhetoric,'! shall proceed without pre- 
face to those figures, which are derived from 
the other relations of cause and effect, and con- 
tiguity. 

You need not be informed that the word me- 
tonymy implies a change of name, or, in other 
Mords, the substitution of some characteristic 
circumstance or quality for the name or word 
by which a thing is usually known. 

It is chiefly, I might almost say entirely, 
from the relation of cause and effect that this 
figure is derived. Thus the cause is put for the 
effect, when the inventor's name is used for the 
thing invented. Instead of a serious example, 
take one that will amuse you better, from the 
treatise on the Bathos 



180 METONYMY. 

" Lac'd in her Cosins* new appear'd the bride, \ 
" A bubble-boy f and Tompion% at her side, > 

" And with an air divine her Colmar|j ply'd: j 

" Then oh ! she cries, what slaves I round me see ; 
" Here a bright red-coat, there a smart toupee." 

Agreeably to this figure, the author's name 
is employed to designate his works ; as when I 
say " I have read Homer, Virgil, or Milton," 
for the works of Homer, &c. ; and this is so 
common, that it is no harsh expression to say 
J{ 1 have read such a writer." 

" Trojani belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli, 
*' Dum tu declamas Romae, Praenesle relegi." 

HOR..EP. 2, 

" While you my Lollius on some chosen theme, 
" With youthful eloquence at Home declaim, 
"I read the Grecian poet o'er again." 

FRANCIS. 

Again the effect or instrument is employed 
for the cause as " the tongue (that is the elo- 
queiwe of Cicero) defended the cause of virtue 
and the republic;" " Pallida mors" (in Ho- 

* Stays. f Tweezer case. + Watch. || Fan. 
A head-dress. All names taken, I believe, from emi- 
nent workmen or dealers in those articles. 



SYNECDOCHE. 181 

race) for death that makes pale. The adjunct 
is used for the substantive, as when we speak 
of the fasces for the magistrate ; and Virgil 
says, " bibit Germania Tigrim," mentioning 
the country for the inhabitants. In short, it 
is unnecessary to multiply instances, as metony- 
mies occur in every page of every book, and 
in almost every sentence of conversation. 

I need not remind you that the synecdoche 
(orjigure of comprehension,) according to old 
Farnaby, " takes the whole for the part, or the 
part for the whole," as the genus for the species, 
or the species for the genus ; and is of conse- 
quence, evidently dependant on the same rela- 
tion : thus a man is said to get his bread by 
his labour, when bread is taken to signify the 
whole of subsistence. 

The circumstance which forms the principal 
difficulty of translation is, that metaphors, me- 
tonymies, and synecdoches, are often intrans- 
iatable ; and the corresponding words are, in 
the new language, often trite or obscure. 

The periphrasis is a metonymy in which 
more words than usual are employed, as when 
we speak of " the Lover of Daphne," to de- 
signate Apollo. Mr. Gibbon raises his style 



\ 

182 PERIPHRASIS. 

very beautifully by the use of this figure. It 
is also common with the Orientals, as " the 
son of Nouraddin," instead of the proper name 
of the person. 

One of the most animated figures, \\hen pro- 
perly introduced, and managed with delicacy 
and judgment, is the prosopopoeia or personifi- 
cation. It has some alliance with the meta- 
phor, but still more with the metonymy ; and 
indeed seems in most cases to the latter what 
the allegory is to the metaphor. Thus, when 
we say " Youth and beauty are laid in the 
dust," it is not easy/ to determine whether it is 
a metonymy or a prosopopoeia. This figure is 
the soul of poetry, and of lyric poetry in par- 
ticular. It 

" Gives to airy nothing 

" A local habitation and a name." 

In a production of an excellent poetess of 
our own times, there is a very fine specimen of 
this figure , as well as of most of the beauties of 
poetry 

" Loud howls the storm, the vex'd Atlantic roars, 
" Thy genius, Britain, wanders on its shores ! 
" Hears cries of horror wafted from afar, 
" The groans of anguish 'mid the shrieks of war! 



PERSONIFICATION. 183 

" Hears the deep curses of the great and brave, 
" Sigh in the wind, and murmur in the wave ! 
" O'er his damp brow the sable crape he binds, 
" And throws his victor garland to the winds." 

Miss SEWARD'S MONODY ON MAJ. ANDRE. 

In all the lyric poems of Collins, you will 
find very fine examples of the prosopopoeia. 
None perhaps more pleasing than the opening 
of his Ode to Mercy 

" O thou, who sifst a smiling bride 

" By valour's arm'd and awful side, 
" Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best adored 

" Who oft with songs, divine to hear, 

' Win'st from his fatal grasp the spear, 
" And hid'st in wreaths of flow'rs his bloodless sword." 

*' Thou, who, amidst the deathful field, 

" By godlike chiefs alone beheld, 

" Oft with thy bosom bare art found, 

" Pleading for him, the youth who sinks to ground." 

Here are two very fine pictures, the embodied 
quality or character in two most interesting si- 
tuations. 

There is another striking instance in a con- 
temporary poet, which is also accompanied 
with a fine allusion. You will recollect the 
lines are addressed to Mr. Gibbon 



184 PERSONIFICATION. 

" Humility herself, divinely mild, 
*' Sublime religion's meek and modest child, 
" Like the dumb son of Croesus, in the strife, - 
" When force assail'd his father's sacred life, 
*' Breaks silence, and with filial duty warm, 
" Bids thee revere her parent's hallowed form !" 

HAYLEY'S ESSAY ON HISTORY. 

But though personification is particularly 
adapted to poetry, yet this figure serves fre- 
quently to adorn the works of the best prose 
writers. I have seldom found a bolder instance 
than one in Tacitus, An. 16. 21 

" Trucidatis tot insignibus viris, ad postre- 
mura Nero virtutem ipsam exscindere concupi- 
vit, interfecto Thrasea," &c. 

" After the slaughter of so many distin- 
guished men, Nero meditated at length the 
extirpation of virtue herself, by the murder of 
Thrasea." 

Dr. Ogden, who is so fertile in beauties that 
lam obliged to have continual recourse to him, 
will also furnish us with another example 

" Truth (says he) is indeed of an awful pre- 
sence, and must never be affronted with the 
rudeness of direct opposition ; yet will she 
consent for a moment to pass unregarded, while 



PERSONIFICATION. 185 

your respects are offered to her sister cha- 
rity." 

The use of the abstract for the concrete, as 
treachery, for treacherous men ; modesty, for 
modest men, &c. is a kind of personification, 
and adds greatly to the animation of a dis- 
course, as in this instance from Junius's Letters 

" As for Mr. W n, there is something in 

him which even treachery cannot trust." 

Much of the spirit of Dr. Johnson's compo- 
sitions depends upon this artful use of lan- 
guage; and he is, I think, improperly ceil* 
sured for it, by a gentleman, whose lively 
talents and genuine humour have often en- 
gaged and interested the first assembly in this 
kingdom, and who favoured the public with 
an excellent criticism in verse on that great 
man's character and writings. 

The 1st rule to be observed with respect to 
the prosopopoeia is, that whenever it is intro- 
duced,-^ the picture it presents should be com- 
plete. For this reason the following example 
is perfectly ridiculous 

" Invidious grave, how dost thou rend in sunder 
tl Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one." 

BLAIR'S GRAVE. 



186' PERSONIFICATION. 

The idea of a grave rending in sunder, yon 
see makes a very indifferent picture. I should 
not however have quoted this poem, had it not 
been made a subject of panegyric by a modem 
critic, whose genius is at least equal to his ec- 
centricity. 

2dly. Mean and vulgar objects should never 
be personified : for as the prosopopreia is a bold 
figure, it should only be introduced to confer 
dignity on a subject. It follows of course that 
nothing vulgar or contemptible should be al- 
lowed to disgrace the figure. For this reason 
the following image from the poem I have just 
quoted, is not only unpoetical, but disgust- 
ing 

. " O great man-eater f 
" Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet ! 
" Like one whole days defrauded of his meals, 
" On whom lank hunger lays his skinny hand." 

Here are two personifications, and 'he ima- 
gery, as well as the language in both, is"a& 
mean and colloquial as possible. The same 
want of dignity, and the same impropriety, 
pervade all the imagery of this writer. For in- 
stance 



PERSONIFICATION. 187 

" Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipt, 
" S/mke hands with dust." 

Here is another most extraordinary picture, 
t( a man skaking hands with dust." Such 
writers are of use, because they teach us bette 
than any precept can, what to avoid. 

Sdly. I do not subscribe to Dr. Blair's rule, 
u that this figure should never be attempted 
but when prompted by strong passion ;" for in 
the happiest instances I have already -given, 
there is no passion at all. Indeed it seems to me 
more a figure of fancy than of passion, and it 
is most happily introduced in those composi- 
tions where the fancy sports most uncontrouied > 
as in lyric productions. In very serious com- 
positions, however, it is sometimes well in-* 
troduced accompanied with passion ; but then 
the effect will be destroyed if it appears arti- 
ficial ; for all art is inconsistent with strong 
emotion. 

The apostrophe is a more animated prosopo* 
pceia, where the object personified is addressed 
in the second person. A real personage, how- 
ever, may be addressed in an apostrophe, but 
he must be supposed either dead or' absent; 
which almost reduces it to a mere personifica- 



188 APOSTROPHE. 

tion. It is a figure more fit for poetry than 
prose; and nothing can excuse it in the latter 
but the very effervescence of passion. On this 
account, though it may be tolerated in oratory, 
it cannot be admitted in narrative or didactic 
compositions. In truth, the French preachers, 
who are very partial to this figure, render their 
discourses sometimes exceedingly frigid, by its 
too frequent and artificial introduction. 

The apostrophe never was more properly and 
naturally introduced than in Lear's address to 
the elements, when discarded and turned out by 
Regan. There is a peculiar beauty in this 
part 

" Spit fife, spout rain ! 

" Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters. 
" I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness, . 
" I never gave you kingdom, called you children, 
. " YOH owe me no subscription," &c. 

That of Eve in the llth book of Paradise 
Lost, v- 269, is also beautiful and proper 

" O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! 
" Must I thus leave thee, Paradise, thus leave 
" Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
" Fit haunt of Gods ? Where I had hope to spend, 



HYPERBOLE. 189 

" Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day 

" That must be mortal to us both. O flowers 

" That never will in other climate grow, 

" My early visitation and my last 

" At even, which I bred up with tender hand, 

" From the first opening bud, and gave you names ; " 

" Who now skall rear ye to the sun, or rank 

" Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount ?" &c. 

I have already laid down one rule concern- 
ing the use of this figure, which is, that it is 
only adapted to impassioned expression, other- 
wise its introduction is frigid, if not ridiculous. 
I may add, as a second rule, that it should al- 
ways be made with gravity and dignity. The 
following instance is a breach of both these 
rules 

'" But tell us, why this waste, 



" Why this ado in earthing up a carcase 
" That's fall'n into disgrace, and to the sense 
" Smells horrible? Ye Undertakers! tell us." 

BLAIR'S GRAVE. 

The hyperbole is nothing more than an excess 
of figurative language ; the effect, when it is 
natural, of passion. All the passions are inclined 
to magnify their objects. Injuries seem greater 
than they really are to those who have received 



190 HYPERBOLE* 

them ; and dangers, to those who are in fear. 
The lover naturally makes a divinity of his mis- 
tress ; valour and contempt are equally inclined 
to degrade and diminish. This figure, there- 
fore, in particular, requires passion to give it 
force or propriety ; and if this is not the case, 
it renders a style very bombastic and frigid. 
Lucan is too fond of this figure. See the first 
six lines of Howe's Lucan, where 

" The sun - 

" sicken'd to behold Emathia's plain, 

" And would have sought the backward east again.'* 

And in book vi. v. 329 : 

" The missive arms fix'd all around he wears> 
" And even his safety in his wounds he bears, 
" Fenc'd with a fatal wood, a deadly grove of spears." 

Nothing indeed can be more bombastic than 
the whole description of this warrior's death. 
The poet calls upon the Pompeians to lay siege 
to him as they would to a town ; to bring bat- 
tering engines, flames, racks, &c. to subdue 
him. He is first compared to an elephant^ 
and again to a hunted boar ; at length- 

" When none were left him to repel, 

" Fainting for want of foes the victor fell.'* 



HVPERBOLE. 191 

above instances may serve to shew how 
easily the hyperbolical style may slide into the 
ridiculous. The last of them is only surpassed 
by one which is quoted by the authors of the 
Bathos 

" He roar'd so loud, and look'd so wondrous grim, 
*' His very shadow durst not follow him." 

Or another from the same assemblage of hu* 
mour. The poet is speaking of a frighted stag, 
who 

" Hears his own feet, and thinks they sound like more, 
" And fears the hind feet will o'ertake the fore." 

One more I cannot help transcribing. It is 
the description of that elegant entertainment a, 
bull-baiting, by Sir Richard Blackmore 

" Up to the stars the sprawling mastiffs fly, 
" And add new monsters to the frighted sky." 

Nothing in short can be more fertile in the 
ridiculous than the awkward attempts of bad 
writers at the hyperbole. On this account, I 
can give you no better rule with respect to the 
use of it, than to employ it as little as possible. 

Irony has been classed as a figure of rhetoric 
by Farnaby, and Other writers of equal taste 



192 IRONY. 

and brilliancy ; but with deference to 
high authorities, I would rather consider it as a 
style of writing than as a figure of speech. Dr. 
Priestley observes, that " all irony is humour, 
but all humour is not irony." In other words, 
irony is a species of humour, and if you will 
attend to the definition of humour, which I at- 
tempted in Letter VI. viz. that it depends upon 
the same principle of contrast as wit ; but that 
in humour, the mind of the reader or auditor is 
left to make the comparison for itself, and form 
the contrast ; you will find that it strictly ap- 
plies to irony. This figure (if a figure we must 
call it) generally consists in giving undeserved 
praise, implying censure on the object ; or con- 
veying censure under the appearance of praise; 
but the former is the most common. I remem- 
ber however a very pretty stroke of irony of 
the latter kind. When the King of Prussia, 
Frederic II. published his poem on the art of 
war, he took no notice of Marlborough. On 
this circumstance, the Monthly Reviewers re- 
marked, " that they presumed his Majesty had 
omitted the name of Marlborough, in the cata- 
logue of distinguised commanders, because he 
might deem him deficient in one branch of his 



IRONY. 19S 

profession, having never on any occasion evin- 
ced his skill in conducting a retreat.* 

The greatest master in irony is Swift ; and 
his " Tale of a Tub" is the most complete spe- 
cimen extant of ironical composition. To se- 
lect examples would be to transcribe almost 
half the book. Take therefore the first that oc- 
curs in the " Dedication to Prince Posterity." 

" To affirm that our age is altogether un- 
learned, and devoid of writers of any kind, 
seems to be an assertion so bold and false, that 
I have been sometime thinking, the contrary 
may almost be proved by uncontroulable de- 
monstration. It is true indeed, that although 
their numbers be vast, and their productions 
numerous in proportion, yet are they hurried 
so hastily off the scene, that they escape our 
memory, and elude our sight." 

" What is then become of those immense 
bales of paper, which must needs have been 
employed in such numbers of books ; can these 
also be wholly annihilated, and so of a sudden 
as I pretend ? What shall I say in return to so 
invidious an objection ; it ill befits the distance 
between your highness and me, to send you for 
ocular demonstration to a jakes or am oven ; 

VOL. I. K 



194 IRONY. 

to the windows of a bawdy-house, or to a sor- 
did lanthern. Books, like men their authors, 
have no more than one way of coming into the 
world, but there are ten thousand to go out of 
it, and return no more." 

The force and delicacy of this irony may be 
easily understood without a comment. The 
sarcastic author, passes a most severe cen- 
sure on his contemporaries, under the colour 
of a very moderate and well-conducted de- 
fence. 

Let it be observed that more exaggerated 
praise, even though it evidently appears extra- 
vagant, and meant for ridicule, is not irony. 
To constitute that, there must be a sarcastic 
archness, which, if not actual wit, must very 
nearly approach it, and must at least be hu- 
mour. I shall conclude with the finest speci- 
men of this figure extant in any language 

" HERE continueth to rot 
The Body of 

FRANCIS CHARTRES, 

Who with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY, 

And INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of Life, 
PERSISTED, 

In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES, 



PARALEIPSIS. 195 

In the Practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE, 

Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY: 

His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first, 

His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second. 

Nor was he more singular 
In the undeviating Pravity of his Manners, 

Than successful 

In Accumulating WEALTH : 

For, without TRADE or PROFESSION, 

Without TRUST of PUBLIC MONEY, 

And without BRIBE-WORTHY Service, 
He acquired, or more properly created, 

A MINISTERIAL ESTATE. 

He was the only Person of his Time 
Who could CHEAT without the Mask of HONESTY, 

Retain his Primaeval MEANNESS 

When possess'd of TEN THOUSAND a year ; 

And having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did, 

Was at last condemn'd to it for what he could not do. 

Oh Indignant Reader ! 

Think not his Life useless to Mankind ; 

PROVIDENCE conniv'd at his execrable Designs, 

To give to After-ages 

A conspicuous PROOF and EXAMPLE, 

Of how small Estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH 

In the Sight of GOD, 

By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of ALL 
MORTALS.'' 

A figure which the Greeks call paraleipsis. 



196 INTERROGATION, 

borders upon irony, and is sometimes united 
with it. From the name you will perceive that 
it implies an affectation of omission, as when 
an orator exclaims, u I refrain from touching 
on the rapacity, the venality, the exceeding cor- 
ruption of the person I accuse ; I confine my- 
self to the point," &c. Cicero makes a very 
free use of this figure ; and the late Mr. Burke, 
who made that great master his model, was 
particularly fond of it. 

Dr. Blair has enumerated two or three other 
forms of expression as figures of rhetoric ; and 
that I may not leave this sketch imperfect, I 
shall conclude this letter with a short notice of 
them. The first of these is interrogation, of 
which (he observes) we have many fine instances 
in the poetical and prophetical parts of Scrip- 
ture" God is not a man that he should lie, 
nor the son of man that he should repent. 
Hath he said, and shall he not do it ?" The 
effect of this mode of expression will be very 
evident, if the sense is preserved, and the words 
thrown out of this interrogative form. u What 
he hath said he will do, and what he hath 
spoken he will make good." Also in St. Mat- 
thew, ch. xi. v. 7 and 9. " And as they de- 



EXCLAMATION. 197 

parted, he began to say unto the multitude 
concerning John. What went ye out into the 
wilderness to see ? A reed shaken with the wind ? 
but what went ye out for to see ; a man clothed 
in soft raiment ? Behold they that wear soft 
raiment are in kings' houses : but what went ye 
out for to see ? A prophet, yea, I say unto you, 
and more than a prophet." 

Exclamation is a stronger figure than the 
former. The best rule that can be given with 
regard to it, is, that you should attend to the 
manner in which the passion you describe 
would naturally vent itself. The figure must 
be seldom used, as it will appear very ridicu- 
lous, unless where the passions of the hearers 
are much inflamed. 

The same author observes, that some writers 
fill their books with points of admiration ! as ' 
if the points were sufficient to produce that 
passion by a magical power, when their senti- 
ments are perfectly frigid. Nearly allied to 
this is another trick, which has been much em- 
ployed by modern authors, i. e. filling their 
writings with black lines, as if every sentence 
was so important as to deserve applause. Dr. 
Blair calk this a typographical figure, and it 



198 VISION. 

is well adapted to some contemptible writers, 
and that herd of novelists, who have nothing 
either in their matter or style to attract at- 
tention. There was another custom used not 
long ago, which modern writers have justly 
laid aside ; they wrote every word which they 
thought emphatic in Italic characters. Though 
this may be very proper with respect to some 
very energetic words, yet the too frequent use 
of them only dazzles the sight, without inform- 
ing the understanding. 

Dr. Blair remarks also another figure, which 
he calls vision, by which we describe a thing 
that is past or absent as if passing immediately 
before our eyes : by it we place things in a very 
lively manner before our readers, an example 
of which may be found in Cicero's fourth ora- 
tion against Catiline. " Cum vero mihi pro- 
posui regnantem Lentulum," &c. It is not 
easy to give any rules concerning the manage- 
ment of this figure ; it requires, indeed, great 
caution, and its use ought to be almost exclu- 
sively restricted to very passionate orations. 

Repetition is another animated figure remark- 
ed by the same writer ; by this we repeat the 
most material words of a sentence, in order to 



REPETITION. 199 

fljake the impression the stronger. There is an 
example of this in Virgil, when Orpheus la- 
ments his lost wife Eurydice 

" Te, dulcis conjux te, eolo in littore secunv 
" Te, veniente die, te decedente canebat." 

To the same purpose Mr Pope 

" By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, 
" By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, 
" By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, 
" By strangers honour'd and by strangers mourn'd." 

The finest instance of this is, however, in St. 
Paul's 2d Epistle to the Corinthians, ch. xi. 
v. 22. " Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are 
they Israelites ? So am I. Are they the seed 
of Abraham ? So am I. Are they the ministers 
of Christ ? (I speak as a fool) I am more ; in 
labours more abundant, in stripes above mea- 
sure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft." 

I have already treated of the climax in a for- 
mer letter ; all that is necessary to remark here 
is, that it is commonly classed as a figure of 
rhetoric. 



200 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS 

\ 

i 

LETTER XIV. 

'General observations on Composition. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

I HAVE endeavoured to give you as correct 
a notion as I can of all the figures of rhetoric 
which deserve the name. To enter into the 
minuteness of Farnaby would be trifling, and 
only perplex. There was scarcely a form or 
idiom of language for which the Greeks did 
not invent a name ; and it is to be lamented 
that much of their science consisted only in 
giving names. 

Even in what I have done, I fear you will 
apply to me the remark of Butler, formerly 
quoted. Yet let it be remembered, that it is 
at least an accomplishment to know how literary 
men, both ancient and modern, have specified 
and defined the various modes of expression. 

I shall have frequently to call your attention 
to something of more importance than style, the 
matter and form of the different species of com- 



ON COMPOSITION. 201 

position. Yet even here what has been ad- 
vanced on the subject of style will not be found 
useless. Independent of those qualities which 
every good style ought to possess perspicuity, 
purity, and harmony you will have to apply 
much of what I have advanced to the different 
kinds of composition of which we are now to 
treat. It is evident that some will be improved 
by an ornamental or florid style ; that in others, 
figurative language must be sparingly employ- 
ed, while on some subjects it would be an ab- 
solute vice. 

All kinds of composition may be classed un- 
der two general divisions : prose, and poetry; 
and it will be most natural and easy to treat in 
the first instance of the former. 

Prose compositions may again be arranged in 
the following classes : 1st. Didactic and argu- 
mentative; 2d. Oratorical; 3d. Narrative and 
descriptive. The first will comprehend every 
thing relating to moral, political, or natural 
philosophy ; all treatises on the arts or sciences ; 
all discussions or controversies, which do not 
come under the second division of the oratorical 
or declamatory. The second division will in- 



202 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS 

elude not only the three great branches of ora- 
tory the senate, the bar, and the pulpit ; but 
also much of controversy, political pamphlets, 
and every thing that assumes a declamatory 
form. The letters of Jimius, though under the 
epistolary title, may be classed as political de- 
clamations. 

The last division will extend not only to 
real but fictitious history, memoirs, books of 
travels, and even many compositions which 
rank as essays, but which are in reality either 
narratives or descriptions. The three kinds 
will be found sometimes blended in one pro- 
duction, as in Thucydides and Livy will be 
found almost as much of oratory as of mere 
narrative ; though this is a style of composi- 
tion which I would not recommend. 

It is obvious, that in didactic or argumenta- 
tive compositions, works of reasoning; a florid 
or figurative style is very improperly intro- 
duced : yet in what are called moral essays, 
such as the Spectators, Ramblers, and Adven- 
turers, a style moderately florid is far from mis- 
placed . The truth is, these productions partake 
more or less of the nature either of poetry or 



ON COMPOSITION. 

oratory. They are in a great measure works 
of imagination, and therefore the ornaments of 
fancy are not improperly bestowed upon them. 

There are few productions of the narrative 
kind which will not admit of ornament. The 
antient historians are, however, rather more 
chaste in this respect, except where they pro- 
fessedly introduce an oration. Books of tra- 
vels are mostly descriptive ; and description 
admits of even more ornament than narrative. 
It indeed approaches to poetry, and almost ad- 
mits of equal licence. 

But of all the different kinds of prose com- 
position, oratory admits of the greatest variety 
of ornament. It allows occasionally of almost 
all the figures which are appropriated to poetry^ 
and of some almost peculiar to itself. It is, 
therefore, to this branch of composition that the 
art of rhetoric particularly applies ; and the 
antient rhetoricians were mere teachers of ora- 
tory. 

In treating critically of the'difterent kinds of 
composition, both prose and verse, I shall have 
to enforce more particularly these observations. 
In the mean time, as this letter is of a miscel- 
laneous character, I shall conclude it ^ith a 



204 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS 

few practical rules, which you will find useful 
in the acquisition of a good style ; some from 
my own practice and observation, and some 
from other authors. 

1st. As we have been treating so* lately of 
figurative language, ray first observation will 
apply to it. Never be anxious to embellish 
your compositions in this way. Never study 
to find out comparisons or metaphors to adorn 
your discourse. Figurative language, when it 
is good, comes spontaneously from a lively 
imagination, or from a mind richly stored by 
the perusal of the best authors. 

2d. Avoid common-place metaphors. No- 
thing can be more disgusting than an accumu- 
lation of trite and common allusions. The 
plainest style is preferable ; and figures to be 
pleasing should always have something inge- 
nious and uncommon to recommend them. 
Such a style as I have now been deprecating, 
is always frigid, and commonly characterized 
as fustian or bombast. 

3d . To write well you should study to ac- 
quire a clear idea of the subject. Some may 
suppose that this has no connection with style ; 
but the case is otherwise, for unless you under- 



ON COMPOSITION. 205 

stand what you write upon, you can never 
make others understand you. When you are 
to write, you are to reflect upon all the parts 
of the subject ; and when you have acquired 
a clear view of it, the words will come of 
course, though probably they will admit of 
much amendment. Do not however stop the 
ardour of composition for the sake of a single 
word or phrase, but leave it a blank when a 
proper one does not occur, or rather take the 
word that presents itself, and mark it to be af- 
terwards corrected. 

4th. You should often compose. No rules 
are sufficient to form a complete and correct 
writer without exercise and habit. I do not 
mean that you should compose much ; on the 
contrary, by writing too fast at first you may 
contract bad habits, which will require much 
trouble before they can be removed. Endea- 
vour therefore to write well, rather than fast. 
When you have done, lay by the composition 
till you have forgotten your attachment to any 
particular phrase in it, and afterwards survey 
it with a critical eye ; you will then be more 
able to prune redundances, and to smooth the 
periods. 



206 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS 

5th. I again repeat, peruse the best authors 
with a particular attention to their style. By 
this means you will lay in a store of words, 
and insensibly adopt their modes of expression. 
Take care to mark every thing peculiar in their 
manner, so that you may know how afterwards 
either to adopt or to avoid it. 

6th. There is no practice better than to 
translate passages from good classical authors, 
or to give the thoughts of a good writer in your 
own language, and compare it afterwards care- 
fully with the original. Take, for instance, a 
passage from Addison or Blair ; read it three or 
four times, and when you have made yourself 
master of all the sentiments, lay aside the 
book, and clothe them in your own language ; 
then compare your own performance, after you 
have rendered it as correct as possible, with the 
original : by this means you will be able to dis- 
cover your own faults. 

7th. Avoid all servile imitation of others; 
for by imitation you will be prevented from at- 
tempting anything of your own, and your bar- 
renness will at length be discovered. Never 
transcribe passages from other writers as your 
own : this effectually bars all efforts of genius, 



ON COMPOSITION. 207 

and exposes you to the ridicule of men of 
learning. 

8th. Always endeavour to adapt the style to 
the subject; for nothing can be more ridicu- 
lous than to clothe grave subjects in a vain and 
gaudy dress ; or embellish dry reasoning, which 
must convince only by strength of argument. 
In oratorical compositions you must also adapt 
your discourse to the generality of your au- 
dience : nothing can be more absurd than to 
use extravagant phrases, or unknown words, 
before an unlearned multitude ; the ignorant 
may admire, but the learned will smile. 

9th . Give at all times more attention to your 
thoughts than to your words. We may learn 
almost mechanically a few fine phrases ; but in 
a man of true genius alone the sentiments are 
grand and noble. 

I do not mean, however, to discourage you 
from the cultivation of a good style. The re- 
mark of Quinctilian, " that a clear conception 
will generally be attended with correct expres- 
sion" is so far true, that we know the knowledge 
of words ahvays accompanies the knowledge 
of things ; and as almost all our knowledge is 
acquired by means of words, we cannot have 



GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, &C. 

the one without the other. Otherwise the at- 
tainment of arts and sciences appears to me a 
perfectly distinct branch of study, and I can 
conceive a man master of even a practical 
art, such as chemistry or mechanics, and to 
want names for his ideas. However, thus far 
is certain, that the elegant part of speaking or 
writing is at least a distinct study, and there- 
fore not tc be neglected ; though it will be 
found of little value without a sound know- 
ledge of things. 



DIDACTIC COMPOSITION 209 



LETTER XV. 

Didactic Composition Analysis and Synthesis. 
^ 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

IN my last letter I promised to conduct you 
from words to things ; from style to the matter 
and arrangement of composition. In pursuing 
the order also which I before pointed out, we 
are to consider didactic composition. 

I do not know a greater difficulty than that 
which presents itself to a young writer with re- 
spect to the method or arrangement which he 
is to pursue in an essay or discourse on any gi- 
ven subject. Ideas crowd upon his mind; he 
sees the subject in various points of view ; but 
he is uncertain what observation ought first to 
be introduced to the notice of his reader, or in 
what light his subject will appear the clearest, 
and to the most advantage. Here the rules of 
art may occasionally deliver him from some 
embarrassment ; and at least a general process 



210 ANALYSIS. 

may be laid down as the means of investigating 
truth, or communicating knowledge. 

Logicians have established, and I think not 
improperly, two methods in which didactic or 
argumentative disquisitions are to be conduct- 
ed. These methods are analysis and synthesis. 
The analytical method is when we proceed 
from particulars to the establishment of some 
general truth. Thus Derham, in his physico 
theology, ascends from the investigation of the 
several parts of nature, to the proof that they 
must be the work of an all powerful and intel- 
ligent being. Dr. Clarke, on the contrary, in 
his admirable w r ork on the being and attributes 
of God, commences with a simple proposition, 
that " something must have existed from eter- 
nity ; he proceeds to shew what must have 
been the nature and attributes of such a being, 
and by the force of this one fundamental axiom, 
establishes all the principles which are the basis 
of natural, I might add of revealed religion. 

A similar method is adopted in Warburton's 
Divine Legation, a work however which I never 
admired. The foundation of this work is laid in 
a kind of syllogism, though I confess I cannot 
see that the consequence flow.s naturally from 



ANALYSIS. 

the major and the minor. It is, 1st. That the 
doctrine of a future state is necessary to the 
well-being of civil society, and therefore was 
taught by the wisest legislators of antiquity. 
2d. That this doctrine makes no part of the 
Mosaic dispensation. 3dly. That therefore the 
law of Moses is of divine original. 

The learned author has, in my opinion, failed 
in the proof of all his propositions ; but it is 
enough to remark at present, that he branches 
this syllogism out into five volumes, adducing 
an infinite number of authorities and facts un- 
der each of the separate heads. 

The analytical method is the only mode in 
which truth is to be investigated ; for this rea- 
son it is the method adopted in algebraic in- 
vestigations, and in those of experimental phi- 
losophy, where the author, from comparing the 
number of particular observations, and tracing 
the analogy between them, arrives at a general 
conclusion.* 

* In this manner truths of the greatest importance are 
gradually laid open to persons whose curiosity is deeply 
interested in the process. Nor is the full design of the 
philosopher perceived by his antagonist, until the conclu- 
sion, which he aims to establish, strikes at last with irre- 



212 SYNTHESIS. 

Where a science is to be taught, on the con- 
trary, the synthetic seems the most commodious 
method, and it is therefore that which is adopt- 
ed by geometricians. With these, therefore, a 
theorem or proposition is laid down, and is then 
proved or demonstrated. Sermons, except 
those which follow the order of the text, and 
a majority of what are called moral essays, are 
in the synthetical form ; though it is not often 
that we find either 6f these modes separately 
pursued. 

In works where it is the object of the writers 
to take their readers by surprise, and to estab- 
lish a false conclusion, they find the analytical 
method to answer their purpose the best ; for 
the chain of reasoning ascending from particu- 
lars to generals is often complicated, and the 
connexion of it with the conclusion is not easily 
discovered. Dr. Priestley observes, that the 
most valuable part of Mr. Hume's " Inquiry 
concerning the Principles of Morals," is nearly 
the same as that part of Mr. Hutchinson's mo- 
ral philosophy, which corresponds to it, and 

sistible evidence upon the mind. OGILVIE ON COMPO- 
SITION. 



SYNTHESIS. 213 

may most properly be termed analytical. In 
order to determine the foundation of virtue, he 
considers particularly every thiiig that is ac- 
knowledged to gain the esteem of mankind, 
examining upon what common property their 
encomiums turn, and in what manner their ap- 
probation is bestowed ; and having found that 
nothing is the object of esteem but what is use- 
ful to society, and that the several virtues are 
classed in the first and second rank of import- 
ance, according as they are more or less essen- 
tial to the well-being of society, he concludes 
that public utility is the foundation of all moral 
virtue. 

In Dr. Hartley's observations on man, on the 
contrary, the argument is strictly synthetical, 
and even geometrical. The author begins with 
definitions and axioms, such as are employed 
by geometricians ; he lays down formal pro- 
positions, and advances such proof as the na- 
ture of the cas>e will admit. He deduces formal 
corollaries from almost every proposition ; in 
the scholia he explains the nature of his proofs, 
and shews in what manner evidence is reflected 
from one part to another. 

I do not know any study more improving to 



2J4 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 

young persons than to mark and consider the 
manner in which a great author conducts a dis- 
quisition ; for there is frequently not less force 
and power in the arrangement than in the mat- 
ter and arguments themselves. 

The Republic of Plato is a very celebrated 
work ; and a short abstract, or rather outline, of 
it, may possibly entertain you. The work is 
in dialogue ; but as there is only one principal 
speaker, Socrates, it may be regarded as a dis- 
quisition. The professed intention of the au- 
thor is to describe and define the nature of jus- 
tice ; this he does by a fanciful analogy, in the 
tracing of which he pursues the analytical me- 
thod. He founds an imaginary city, and shews 
the advantage of each person practising some 
art which may be useful to the community, 
and practising that alone. He then divides his 
city into three classes : 1st. Those Mho pursue 
the arts of husbandry, mechanics, &c. 2d. 
The military, or a few chosen for the defence 
of the rest. 3d. The magistrates and counsel- 
lors, who are to administer the laws and regu- 
late the police. This therefore is the order of 
the city ; but if one class (says he) should in- 
fringe on the proper business of the other, if 



DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 215 

the artizans or soldiers, being unskilled in the 
arts of governing, should pretend to rule, con- 
fusion and the dissolution of the state is the ne- 
cessary consequence ; and this constitutes the 
political nature of injustice. 

In like manner man is endued with certain 
faculties, appetites and passions, the end of 
which is the general good of the whole ; and 
these may be divided into three classes the 
appetitive, the irascible, and the reasonable; 
answering to the three classes constituted in the 
city. The rational is the governing and con- 
sultive power, and the irascible is the defensive, 
and is properly the guard and confederate to 
it. If, then, at any time the appetitive should 
assume the superiority, or the irascible part 
would subject every thing to his sway, the har- 
mony is broken, and the man, of consequence. 

Will act Unjustly, &C. Apt* /*t p us ioix y v^nt-re 
rn en nn xai xaAXo* xai EV(I ^ux* 1 *' *** (l * ^E vo<ror re. MI ttivxpt 

xai <*ff0mia. u For virtue (says he) is the health 
and beauty, and sound constitution of the soul ; 
vice, on the contrary, is disease, and barrenness, 
and debility." REP. book iv. 

Though I read much of Plato in my youth, 
I do not recommend to you to spend much 



216 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 

time upon him* I remember he was far from 
satisfying either my friend Gilbert Wakefield 
or myself, when we read him. He abounds too 
much in minute and metaphysical distinctions, 
which are of little value, and can only be ac- 
counted in general a most elegant and ingeni- 
ous trifler. Yet candour ought to make allow- 
ances for the age in which he lived. He was a 
divine, while totally ignorant of a true system 
of theology ; and a moralist in a time when hu- 
man nature was depraved by the grossest pre- 
judices and perversions. Had the light of 
Christianity but dawned upon his mind, he 
would have been the first of philosophers. He 
would probably not have lost himself in the 
mist of idle speculation, but would have pur- 
sued the star which drew the sages from the 
East; like (hem he would have worshipped, 
not with an idolatrous adoration, but " in spi- 
rit and in truth." 

If 1 recollect rightly, the analytical method 
is pursued in almost all the dialogues of Plato. 
It seems indeed the only method that can be 
followed with success whenever the Socratic 
mode of reasoning (that which draws a conclu- 
sion from the concessions of your adversary) i* 



DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 

employed. It is often a very pleasing method 
of inculcating truth, for the curiosity of the 
hearer or reader becomes frequently deeply in- 
terested in the process. The full design of the 
speaker is not perceived until the conclusion he 
aims to establish strikes with irresistible force 
upon the mind. 

But however useful the analytical method 
may be where a prejudice is to be removed, or 
a new truth presented to the mind, still in works 
purely didactic or preceptive, the synthetic is 
the simplest, and the most readily compre- 
hended. 

In all disquisitions, or argumentative or di- 
dactic works, method and arrangement is of al- 
most as much importance as eitlier the matter 
or the style. The lucidus ordo is recommended 
by the earliest critics ; and the remark of Pliny 
ought to be impressed upon the mind of every 
young writer, that " Even barbarians can ex* 
press themselves with force and brilliancy ; but 
to arrange with propriety, and dispose with 
elegance the parts of a work, is the task only of 
the learned."* Never therefore sit down to 

* " Utinam ordo saltern & transitus & figurae simul 
spectarentur. Nam invenire praeclare & emmciare mag- 
V'OL. I. L 



218 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 

write before you have well digested in your 
mind the plan and order of what you intend. 
It is even useful to commit to writing a sketch 
of the method in which you mean to pursue 
your subject. This is indeed necessary to per- 
fection in any art ; for a good painter always 
makes certain of a good and correct outline or 
design, before he sits down to fill up the various 
lights and shades of the picture. 

The talent of methodizing, and that of eli- 
citing detached, though brilliant thoughts, are 
talents entirely different. The latter is the ope- 
ration of fancy, with little assistance from the 
reasoning power ; the former is the act of a 
mind of large powers, and of extensive views 
of things. 

There are two modes of composing, which 
are occasionally adopted according to the na- 
ture of the work, or the genius of the author. 
The first is when a number of thoughts, which 
have occurred at different times, but relating 
to the same subject, have been carefully noted 
down, and are afterwards arranged and po- 
lished at the leisure of the writer. The other 

nific6, interdum barbari solt-nt. disponere apte, varte 
msi eruditis negatura est. PLINY, EF. L. 3. r. 13. 



DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 

mode is, when the writer having, with much 
reading and reflection, made himself master of 
the subject, prosecutes the work in a connected 
order, and writes what spontaneously occurs to 
his mind. Each of these modes supposes a 
plan ; but in the former case the plan seems to 
arise out of the materials which have been ori- 
ginally collected, perhaps without much regard 
to method, and is formed by diligently com- 
paring and digesting them in the order in which 
they will appear to most advantage. In the 
other case, the writer follows a plan already 
conceived, and perhaps even laid down upon 
paper. Treatises composed in this way, there- 
fore, are more connected, and the parts har- 
monize with each other much better than in the 
former case. 

In large works, however, and especially in 
compilations, it is necessary to make collec- 
tions, though it should not be done without a 
regard to order ; for there is scarcely any mind 
so rich as to be entire master of every part of a 
considerable branch of science. 

The style of didactic or argumentative com- 
positions should in general be plain and simple. 
Something will- however depend upon the na- 

L2 



220 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION, 

ture of the subject. In works on natural ci 
experimental philosophy, or of deep reasoning 
upon any subject ; where, in short, instruction 
is more the object than amusement, the style 
cannot be too simple. In moral and political 
treatises on the other hand, some scope may be 
allowed to the imagination, and they will even 
be the better for some ornament, provided the 
writer does not indulge in too florid a style. 
By simplicity I would not be understood to re- 
commend inelegance. In the most simple style, 
perspicuity, purity, and even harmony, are as 
much to be regarded as in the most laboured 
and rhetorical, and perhaps more so. The 
style of an orator or declaimer may be com- 
pared to the full dress of a modern lady of 
taste and fashion ; that of the philosopher 
should have all the neatness of a young and 
beautiful quaker. 



ORATORY. 221 

LETTER XVI. 

Oratory. Parts of an Oration. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

ORATORICAL compositions might have been 
comprehended under the preceding division, 
for they are in general either didactic or argu- 
mentative. But the form and style of orations ; 
their intention and object, which is an address 
in part, at least, to the passions, have, from the 
first cultivation of letters, placed them in a dis- 
tinct class ; and this division may, as I before 
intimated, be' allowed to include many politi- 
cal declamations, which have not been spoken, 
and even some compositions on more serious 
subjects, but which in their style and manner 
partake more of oratory than of any other art 
or science. 

What has been already observed respecting 
the synthetical and analytical modes of exposi- 
tion will also apply to rhetorical compositions ; 
but in these last the directions of critics are ra- 



ORATOHY. 

ther more minute, as they divide every oration 
into parts, and the detail and explanation of 
these will serve in some measure to aid you in 
what I mentioned as not the least difficult part 
of composition, the arrangement. 

The most antient writers on rhetoric and ora- 
tory have agreed in dividing an oration or dis- 
course into five parts. 

1st. The exordium, or introduction. 

2d. The narrative (narratio) or what we 
should in modern language call a statement of 
the facts. 

3. The division of the arguments. 

4th. The argumentative, which is generally 
the most important part of a discourse. 

5th. The peroration, or conclusion, 

This order or arrangement one of the fathers 
of the art affirms to be the very order of nature. 
" This mode of addressing an audience (says 
he) is dictated by nature herself; that we should 
say something introductory, that we should 
next explain the subject, that we should pro- 
ceed to the proof or argument, either in confir- 
mation of our own allegation, or in refuting 
what our adversary urges to the contrary ; 
lastly, that we should conclude by a perora* 



ORATORY. 223 

tion,'"* the meaning of which last word im- 
plies that it should be something concilia- 
tory. 

To these Dr. Blair adds, before the perora- 
tion " the pathetic parts ;" but this arrange- 
ment seems chiefly applicable to a sermon. It 
has been represented as a trick with some popu- 
lar preachers to say something pathetic imme- 
diately before the conclusion of their sermon to 
make the audience weep ; but such orators, if 
indeed they are orators, are not to be imitated. 
When a person remarked to Swift lhat a ser- 
mon which" they had just heard " was very 
moving,' he replied, " Yes, I am sorry for ft, 
for the man is my friend." 

But I have a more general reason for reject- 
ing this arrangement of Dr. Blair. The pa- 
thetic is a quality rather than a part of a dis- 
course, and it may be applicable to any part, 
frequently to the narrative as much as any 
other, though I will admit that it is introduced 
with most effect towards the conclusion, for the 

* " Ut aliquid ante rera dicamus, delude ut rem ex- 
ponamus ; post ut earn probemus, nostris praesidiis con- 
firmandis, contrariis refutandis ; deinde ut concludatnus, 
atque ita peroremus. Hoc dicendi genus natura ipsa 
pnescribit." DE. OK. 1. 3. c. 13. 



EXORDIUM. 

orator should seem io warm as he advances ; 
but still to prescribe that whatever is pathetic 
in an oration should be introduced in a parti- 
cular place, would be to bind genius down to 
mechanical rules ; and what an audience always 
expected would soon cease to have effect. 

It will not be necessary to be very diffuse 
in treating of the several parts of an oration. I 
shall therefore proceed in the order I have laid 
down, and first to the exordium. 

This pant of every discourse, as Cicero ob- 
serves, is certainly founded on nature and com- 
mon sense. Was any man to address his supe- 
rior, whom he did not know, he would not be- 
gin his suit abruptly, without knowing whether 
the party addressed was well affected to him, 
but would endeavour first to render him pro- 
pitious to what he was going to advance. Thus, 
in the beginning of an oration, we should en- 
deavour to render our hearers well disposed, 
both to the speaker and the subject. 

The introduction, says Cicero, must make 
the hearers docile or tractable ; that is, it must 
render them attentive to what is to be said; 
but if the subject is of sufficient importance to 
interest the hearers, or concerns them in a par- 
ticular manner, it may sometimes be omitted. 



EXORDIUM. 225 

The critics distinguish two kinds of introduc-. 
tions, one of which they call principium, and 
the other insinuatio. The first is a plain expli- 
cation of the orator's motives; the second is 
adopted when the judges are supposed to be 
not well affected towards the orator or his client, 
and then he must endeavour to remove all pre- 
judices, in order that his discourse may have 
its full effect ; of (his kind we have an instance 
in Cicero's oration against Milo, and one still 
better in his oration against the Agrarian law. 

An introduction, says Cicero, should not be 
taken from common-place topics, and such as 
may be applied with equal propriety to a num- 
ber of different subjects ; as that " a desire of 
happiness is the desire of all men." It should 
indeed be immediately connected with the sub- 
ject, and lead, but not abruptly, to it. The 
beginning of the first letter of Junius I have al- 
ways considered as a beautiful exordium. 

" The submission of a free people to the 
executive authority of government, is no more 
than a compliance with laws, which they them- 
selves have enacted . While the national ho- 
nour is firmly maintained abroad, and while 
justice is impartially administered at home, the 

L5 



226 EXORfiltJM. 

obedience of the subject will be voluntary, 
chearful, and I might almost say unlimited. A 
generous nation is grateful even for the preser- 
vation of its righ(s ? and willingly extends the 
respect due to the office of a good prince into 
an affection for his person. Loyalty, in the 
heart and understanding of an Englishman, is 
a rational attachment to the guardian of the 
laws. Prejudices and passion have sometimes 
carried it to a criminal length ; and what- 
ever foreigners may imagine, we know that 
Englishmen have erred as much in a mistaken 
zeal for particular persons and families, as they 
ever did in defence of what they thought most 
dear and interesting to themselves. It naturally 
fills us with resentment to see such a temper in- 
sulted and abused." 

The style of an exordium should be clear 
and correct. At first an audience are generally 
attentive to the speaker, and when they are not 
warmed with the discourse or subject, are more 
disposed to criticism. All appearance of art or 
inflated language must then be avoided ; for in 
an introduction nothing hurts more than osten- 
tation. On this account an appearance of mo- 
desty has always been thought requisite in an, 



BXOHDIUM. 227 

exordium.* Most men entertain too high an 
opinion of themselves to be pleased with those 
who assume any thing of an overbearing ap 
pearance ; wherefore bo cautious never to pro- 
mise too much at first, for if your argument 
proves dull after yqu have raised expectation, 
the hearers will feel disappointment, and will 
consequently be displeased instead of concili- 
ated. Every public speaker should bear in his 
mind the artful demeanour of the wise Ulysses 
in the contest with Ajax, as described in the 
13th book of Ovid's Metamorphoses 

...' " Donee Laertius heros 
" Adstitit ; atque oculos paulum tellure moratos 
" Sustulit ad proceres ; expectatoque resolvit 
" Ora sono: neque abest facundia gratia dictis, 
'* Si mea cum vestris valuisset vota, Pelasgi, 
" Non foret ambiguus tanti certaminis haeres : 
" Tuque tuis arniis, nos te potirenur, Achille!" 

" A murmur from the multitude, 

" Or somewhat like a stifled shout ensued 

" Till from his seat arose Laertes' son, 

" Look'd down awhile, and paus'd ere he begun ; 

* " Atque commendatio tacite si nos infirmos & im- 
pares, &cc. Est enim naturalis favor pro laborantibus; & 
Judex religiosus libentur patronem audit quem justiciae suae 
ninimum timet." QUINCT. 1. 4, c. 1. 



228 NARRATIVE. 

" Then to th' expecting audience rais'd his loot, 

" And not without prepared attention spoke : 

". Soft was his tone, and sober was his face ; 

" Action his words, and words his action grace. 

" If Heaven, great chiefs, had heard our common 

prayer, 

" These arms had caused no quarrel for an heir, 
" Still great Achilles had his own possess'd, 
" And we with great Achilles had been bless'd", 

DRYDEN. 

In your introduction never anticipate any 
thing that would be more properly introduced 
afterwards ; this takes away the grace of no- 
velty, and the force of what should follow. 

Lastly, The introduction should bear a pro- 
portion both in length and kind to the dis- 
course. Dr. Blair remarks, that a long intro- 
duction before a short discourse is as improper 
as a large portico before a small house ; it must 
also be proportionate in kind, for as a finely 
adorned portico before a mean building, so is 
a flowery introduction to a flat discourse. 
Learned men have generally found the greatest 
difficulty in making introductions; for it is not 
easy to be plain and simple without being some- 
what dry and uninteresting. 

The second part is the narrative or explica 



NARRATIVE. 229 

tion. Narrative is chiefly necessary for popu- 
lar assemblies, and for the bar, to state those 
circumstances which ought tp be well under- 
stood. In sermons the word explication is 
used ; it serves the same purpose as the narra- 
tion, and in these is justly reckoned among the 
most difficult parts of a discourse. 

In narration all superfluous circumstances 
must be omitted, and the best way is to repre- 
sent things in a picturesque manner. Of this 
we have an excellent example in Swift's Essay 
on the Fates of Clergymen ; the style should be 
simple but elegant. In a sermon the same rule 
must be observed. The explication should be 
clear, concise, and correct ; the language plain 
but elegant. You must observe what light the 
context throws upon your discourse, and con- 
sider in what it differs from similar subjects. 

The third part of a discourse is the statement 
or division of the argument. This generally 
follows the narrative, ihough sometimes it as 
properly goes before it. Some critics have been 
of opinion that a formal division of orations is 
unnecessary and improper, as it checks the pas- 
sions, and breaks the unity of a discourse ; but, 
in truth, it is only a faulty division that breaks 



.DIVISION. 

the unity : a proper division is not only con- 
sistent with unity, but even renders it more con- 
spicuous. It also allows a resting-place to the 
mind, where it can reflect on what has been 
said, and look forward to what is to come : ac- 
cording to Quinciilian, it is like a man travel- 
ling upon a road which is marked with stones 
tt every mile end ; this makes his journey seem 
shorter than if he was always uncertain how fai 
he had to go. It however depends upon the 
occasion, the subject, and the taste of the ora- 
tor, whether any formal division should be pro- 
posed or not. In cases where it is adopted the 
following rules are recommended by writers on 
rhetoric 

1st. In a good discourse the heads should be 
distinct, and none of them included in another. 

2dly. The divisions should be ranged in 
their natural order ; you should first begin with 
the most simple, and then proceed to things of 
greater importance. 

Sdly. They should exhaust the subject, 
otherwise the division is imperfect. You must 
therefore consider into what parts OF divisions 
the subject most naturally resolves itself. 

4thly . The heads should be expressed in con- 



DIVISION. 

cise terms ; you should avoid all circumlocu- 
tions. The setting forth of the main part of 
your subject in a concise manner enables the 
hearers to comprehend it more easily. 

Sthly. The heads ought not to be multiplied 
unnecessarily, as this enfeebles the discourse. 

Fourth. The argumentative part is by far the 
most important, being really in itself the end 
and object for which every oration is framed. 
The antient orators have established two divi- 
sions under this head ; the one in which you 
adduce the proofs and evidence on your own 
side the question ; the other in which you meet 
and refute the objections of your adversary. 
Which of these ought to come first in an ora- 
tion must depend upon circumstances. In ge- 
neral I should say that in an opening discourse, 
or in the first upon any question, as when a 
member introduces a motion in either house of 
parliament, he should first establish the proofs 
in his own favour, and then proceed to en- 
counter whatever objections he might conceive 
likely to be urged against him. In a rep/y, on 
the contrary, he should first meet the objec- 
tions of his adversary, and then proceed to 
establish his own argument. 



232 ARGUMENTATION. 

To attempt to establish rules respecting this 
part of an oration, would be trifling with your 
understanding. The arguments must depend 
upon the nature of the case, and the genius of 
the orator. There are indeed no rules to pro- 
duce a strong reasoner; this is beyond the 
reach of logic or of any other science ; it must 
be the effect of nature and of study. The an- 
tients, it is true, endeavoured to supply every 
deficiency of argument by common-place to- 
pics, such as I formerly mentioned, to be used 
according to the nature of the discourse ; these 
were called loci, and hence orations were classed 
into the demonstrative, the deliberative, and the 
judicial. Under the first they considered all 
the qualities that could attend any person from 
his birth to his death, for which he could be 
praised or blamed. Under the second they 
considered the honesty, propriety, &c. of an 
action. Under the third they arranged all ar- 
guments concerning the relations, accidents, 
and consequences of things. I am far, how- 
ever, from thinking these sufficient for all the 
purposes of an orator, or that they can be suited 
to the circumstances of every subject. This 
method may produce declaimers, but can never 



ARGUMENTATION. 233 

form a good orator; they may, however, be 
consulted with advantage, especially by law- 
yers ; and you will find them in Aristotle, Ci- 
cero in his book De Inventione, his Topica, 
the 2d De Oratore, and Quinctilian. Any per- 
son who inclines to see them in English may 
consult Dr. Ward's System of Oratory. 

The arrangement of your arguments must 
also depend upon the subject, the audience and 
the object to be achieved, and must be alto- 
gether under the regulation of your own taste 
and judgment. You will pursue the analyti- 
cal or synthetical method according to circum- 
stances. In other respects the following in- 
structions may be useful : 

1st. When you prepare the argumentative 
part of your discourse, place yourself in the si- 
tuation of a hearer, and consider what arguments 
would have the greatest effect in convincing 
yourself. As human nature is every where 
much the same, so it is most probable these ar- 
guments will have much the same effect on 
others. 

2d. You must never rest satisfied with pleas- 
ing your audience ; they may be pleased when 
they are persuaded there is not a sentence of 



ARGUMENTATION. 

truth In your oration. In this part therefore of 
the discourse the speaker should particularly . 
labour to convince, and reserve the entertain- 
ing part for the peroration. 

Sdly. The topics of your discourse should 
never be blended in a confused manner ; this 
is so evident that the mention of it is sufficient. 

4thly. Your arguments should be so ar- 
ranged as to support each other ; if you are 
doubtful of your cause, and have but one argu- 
ment of any strength, place that one in the 
front, and enlarge upon it, in order to preju- 
dice your hearers in your favour; for if you 
begin with those that have but little or no force, 
they will immediately conclude that your rea- 
soning is weak and feeble ; but if your subject 
is clear, and your case a good one, commence 
with those arguments that are more feeble, and 
make them grow in strength, or, in technical 
language, rise in a climax ; if you have any cir- 
cumstances which seem trifling, but which yet 
cannot be conveniently omitted, Cicero judi- 
ciously advises to put them in the middle, 
where they will be least observed ; when your 
arguments are all weak and feeble, the best way 
is to take them in a mass, as they will be more 



ARGUMENTATION. 235 

strong than when they are separate ; but if they 
are clear and convincing, it is best to take them 
separately, that each of them may appear in 
its clearest light, and have its full eifect. 

5tbly. Never extend an argument to too great 
a length ; this only burdens the memory with- 
out influencing the judgment ; it takes from 
the vis and acumen, which is the best charac- 
teristic of talent ; and rather let your hearers 
suppose that something is left to their own 
fancy and judgment, than that you have en- 
tirely exhausted the subject. 

The last part of an oration is the peroration 
or conclusion. This, like all the others, will 
vary according to the subject, the circunx- 
tances, and the genius of the speaker. The 
best in general, the most useful, and at the same 
time most common, is a short and forcible re- 
capitulation of the principal arguments, with 
the inference which the speaker intended to be 
deduced from them. Men of genius will how- 
ever by no means confine themselves to this one 
description of peroration. The vivacity of 
their imaginations will, as frequently as the 
circumstances of the case, induce them to take 
a different course. If an appeal can in this 



236 PERORATION. 

part of the oration be made to the passions of 
the audience, it seldom fails of a happy effect. 
Put the subject should completely authorize it, 
for nothing is more truly disgusting than af- 
fected pathos ; and it should not be abruptly 
introduced, but should be a continuation of 
something of the same description which pre- 
ceded. Bishop Sherlock is very happy in his 
perorations ; and I do not know a finer passage 
than that which is quoted by Bishop Lowth in 
his Grammar, and afterwards by Dr. Blair, as 
an example of the prosopopeeia " Go to your 
natural religion," &c. 

Dr. Ogden has also displayed a happy ta- 
lent in this as well as in every braiish of the 
rhetorical art. I transcribe almost at random 
the conclusion of his thirteenth sermon on the 
Articles of the Christian Faith. 

"Let this suffice. Embrace the offer of 
life ; fly from the wrath to come. You know 
not the plan of infinite government, what the 
order of God's universe admits, what eternal 
wisdom counsels, or supreme rectitude requires. 
Say not within yourselves, If he desires that I 
should be happy, he can make me so. He can 
do every thing that is right and fit to be done ; 



PERORATION. 237 

and nothing more. He desires you to be hap- 
py, and it is therefore he does so much, and, 
for any thing you know, all he can do, to ef- 
fect it. He is your friend and your father: 
but, in this respect, like your parents upon 
earth ; he can only lament over your calami- 
ties, if you resist his goodness, and are resolved 
to perish in spite of all the efforts of omnipo- 
tence. 

" For your own sake, and for the sake of 
those who love you, not only on earth, but 
above, the blessed angels, the Holy Trinity, re- 
turn to yourself, to a sound mind, to the exer- 
cise of piety, and the practice of all virtue : 
there is joy in heaven over one sinner that re- 
penteth." 

I cannot however give you a finer instance 
of a spirited peroration, than the conclusion of 
Mr. Burke's address on the hustings at Bristol, 
when he declined the election in 1780, and with 
this I shall conclude ray letter ; only adding 
one observation, that the short address from 
which it is extracted is one of the most precious 
specimens of eloquence that aatieui or modern 
times have recorded 

" It has been usual for a candidate who de 



238 

clines, to take his leave by a letter to the she* 
riffs ; but I received your trust in the face of 
day, and in the face of day I accept your dis- 
mission. I am not I am not at all ashamed 
to look upon you ; nor can my presence dis- 
compose the order of business here. I humbly 
and respectfully take my leave of the sheriffs, 
the candidates, and the electors, wishing heartily 
that the choice may be for the best, at a time 
which calls, if ever time did call, for the ser- 
vice that is not nominal. It is no plaything 
you are about. I tremble when I consider the 
trust I have presumed to ask. I confided per- 
haps too much in my intentions. They were 
really fair and upright ; and I am bold to say, 
that I ask no ill thing for you, when, on part- 
ing from this place, I pray, that whoever you 
choose to succeed me, may resemble me ex- 
actly in all things, excepting my abilities to 
serve, and my fortune to please you." 



ORATORY. 239 



LETTER XVII. 

Different kinds of Oratory. Eloquence of the 
Senate. Of the Bar. 

MY DEAR JOHN, 

ALL orations may be arranged under two di- 
visions. 1st. Those which are precomposed, 
and delivered either from memory, or read aloud 
to the audience ; and 2dly, those which are 
spoken on the occasion, with little of previous 
study, at least with respect to the style or lan- 
guage, and this kind of eloquence is what we 
call extempore. 

We have reason to believe that the most 
finished orations of the antients were precom- 
posed, and committed to memory. We have 
the frank acknowledgment of Pliny the younger, 
that their ornamental eloquence, their pane- 
gyrics, come under this description ; and we 
find from the same authority r that it was even 
common to read them, previous to their de- 
livery, to a select company of friends, for the 



benefit of their criticisms. The confession of 
Cicero* that, he had by him a volume of Ex- 
ordiums ready precomposed, from which he 
ivas accustomed to select, leads me to suspect 
that many of his orations were in the same pre- 
dicament. If I am not mistaken, the pleadings 
before the French parliament were always pre- 
composed, and read by the advocates. The 
form of their trials, in which the evidence was 
all reduced to writing, and taken before notaries 
previous to the pleading before the court, en- 
tirely favoured this kind of eloquence. The 
French preachers also committed their sermons 
to memory ; and I have been assured that in 
the national assembly, and the convention, 
many, even of the first orators, either read their 
speeches or delivered them from memory. 

A modern writer (Mr. Hume) has instituted 
a comparison between antient and modern elo 
quence, infinitely indeed to the disadvantage of 
the latter. I suspect he was scarcely sufficient 
master of the languages to read the antients 
with that kind of relish that results from fami- 
liarity, and therefore incautiously took their 

* Ad Atticum, lib. xvi. et, 6. 



OltATORY. 241 

praises at second hand ; and I am also inclined 
to believe that he had not heard the best effu- 
sions of our senatorial oratory. That he had 
never stood before the glorious torrent of Lord 
Chatham's eloquence, or witnessed the varied 
and enchanting flow of Mr. Burke's incompa- 
rable genius. 

Granting however for the present Mr. Hume's 
conclusion to be just, there are many reasons 
why the exertions of antient genius should be 
almost exclusively directed to oratory. The 
art of printing had not given that facility to 
the diffusion of sentiment, which at present ex- 
ists. It was by oral effusions alone that the an- 
tients could hope to arrive at fame and distinc- 
tion. Their philosophers taught in this man- 
ner, and their statesmen openly deliberated in 
public assemblies. Even the history of Hero- 
dotus was recited at the Olympic games. The 
occasions too for the employment of eloquence 
were more frequent 'than with us. Every citi- 
zen of the free states of antiquity might address 
the assembly of the people upon any public 
occasion. The law was not a laborious study 
exclusively confined to those who are edu- 
cated to the profession ; and, as justice was ad- 

VOL. i. M 



242 ORATORY. 

ministered generally on the Vague and simple 
principles of natural equity, not according to 
forms, statutes, and precedents, any man might 
in a little time become completely acquainted 
with all that was necessary to accomplish him 
for a pleader. The science of the antients too 
was neither extensive nor profound, so that 
genius was not distracted by a variety of pur- 
suits. From all these circumstances we can- 
not wonder that oratory was cultivated in the 
antient world with ardour and success. 

But indeed I cannot in honesty and candour 
subscribe to the truth of Mr. Hume's position, 
that the antients were every thing, and that we 
are nothing in this art. Whether the antients 
excelled or not in extempore speaking, this at 
least we know, that the specimens of their elo- 
quence which have been transmitted to us are 
studied compositions. Now to compare these 
with any unpremeditated effusion which we 
may happen to hear in the British senate, is 
scarcely lair; and yet I declare I have heard 
speeches there whi< h would not lose in a com- 
parison uith the best of Cicero or Demosthenes. 
The vehement and impressive oratory of Mr. 
Fox, the wit and pathos of Mr. Sheridan ; and 



ORATORY. 243 

the choice and polished elocution of Mr. Pitt, 
might vie with any tiling to be found in these 
celebrated models of eloquence. 

But we have even a fairer and more certain 
criterion. Let any unprejudiced critic com- 
pare those specimens which the masters of elo- 
quence among ourselves have condescended to 
publish, with the productions of the antients, 
and let him determine for himself. I protest I 
find more genius and fancy, more knowledge 
of human nature, and a far greater proportion 
of wit, in the published speeches of Mr. Burke, 
than in any ot the works ot the antient orators ; 
and if chaste and correct eloquence is what he 
requires, I can only advise him to hear the pre- 
sent Chancellor of the Exchequer,* even when 
he speaks without premeditation ; or to peruse 
a speech which was published some years ago 
by himself, or some of his friends, on the abo- 
lition of the slave trade. 

1 am not wishing to depreciate the antients, 
who certainly have cultivated eloquence with 
a success which could scarcely have been ex- 
pected at so early a period ; but I cannot endure 

* This was written during Mr. Pitt's adniiuistratiou. 



244 ORATORY. 

that the merit of the moderns should be wantonly 
underrated, through a blind veneration for the 
excellent of former times. Rely upon it, there 
is no theatre more favourable for the exertions 
of eloquence than a British house of commons, 
nor any, where it has been more successfully 
studied or employed. 

The occasions, as I have just mentioned, were 
more frequent, for the exertion of eloquence, 
among the antients than among ourselves. Ex- 
cept a particular opportunity which a public 
meeting of the people may casually present, 
the only theatres of oratory are the parliament, 
the bar, and the pulpit. In the two former the 
orations are chiefly, if not altogether, extem- 
pore. In the latter the practice is at present 
almost exclusively confined to studied compo- 
sitions. 

In the remainder of this letter f shall endea- 
vour to propose a few rules for parliamentary 
eloquence, and I shall also briefly consider the 
eloquence of the bar, which will include all that 
is to be offered on the subject of extempore 
oratory. 

1st. I should be sorry to discourage any 



ORATORY. 245 

young man of genius from attempting to speak 
in parliament; ~ but to use a parliamentary 
phrase, I would caution him against " com- 
mitting himself" too soon. A laugh once raised 
against a modest man perhaps disarms him for 
ever. Yet a young member must not be too 
fastidious. Mr. Gibbon, when he first entered 
the house of commons undoubtedly intended to 
speak ; and I cannot doubt but if he could have 
subdued the first impulse of modesty, he would 
have spoken incomparably ; but the fact was, 
that waiting too long for a fit occasion to dis- 
play his talents, he sunk into utter indolence 
or despair ; and thus the senate of Great Bri- 
tain was deprived of a genius, which nvould 
probably have been its brightest ornament. 
Dr. Johnson (who was indeed an older man) 
felt more confidence in himself, and regretted 
that Lord North, at the solicitation of Mr. 
Thrale, had not afforded him an opportunity of 
displaying his talents. I have not a doubt but 
he would have acquitted himself admirably^; 
for the style of Dr. Johnson in conversation was 
as pointed, and nearly as correct as in his pub- 
lications. Lord Chesterfield, who knew man- 
kind, and the houses of parliament in particu- 



246 ORATORY. 

lar, better than most men, advises his son to 
feel his way ; to make short speeches at first, 
and principally in committees, where formal 
speeches are not expected ; and thus to acquire 
confidence by degrees, before he launched out 
on any great or momentous occasion. 

2dly. A young member of parliament should 
endeavour to make himself -well acquainted 
with every subject which is likely to come under 
discussion ; and if his mine! is full upon the 
question, it is very likely he will feel a momentary 
impulse to enter into the debate, especially if 
any pause should take place. At all events, 
by studying diligently the different topics of 
deba(e, he enables himself to discharge his duty 
properly if he gives only a silent vote, and is 
accomplishing his mind for future occasions. 

3dly. It is practice that makes a fluent ora- 
tor. Practice' cannot give genius, it is true; 
but (if I may be allowed a vulgarism) there 
is a ready knack, both of writing and speaking, 
which men of very moderate talents often and 
easily acquire. Debating societies have their 
disadvantages, and there are two in particular 
against wliich young men ought to be guarded. 
They are apt to generate a love of disputing, 



ORATORY. 247 

the most disagreeable quality, without excep- 
tion, with which a young man can enter so- 
ciety. The applause also which superficial 
speakers receive there, is apt to generate a be- 
lief that a command of words is the only ne- 
cessary accomplishment. Otherwise by af- 
fording an opportunity of practice, debating 
societies certainly contribute more than any 
means I know of towards fluency and readiness, 
which are no mean qualifications in an orator. 
But it is only to a mind which is well stocked 
with useful knowledge that they will afford 
this improvement. The person who goes ig- 
norant into one of these seminaries, unless he 
compensates by ardent study for his former de- 
ficiencies, will come out, under the most fa- 
vourable circumstances, only a noisy and fluent 
dunce. 

4thly. Any man before he rises to speak in 
a popular assembly should have formed a com- 
plete plan of his intended discourse ; whether 
in speaking he adopts divisions or not, he will 
find his memory greatly assisted by dividing in 
his mind his intended harangue into its several 
parts, and methodically arranging them. 1 
have seen the first of our parliamentary orators 



248 OKATORY. . 

have in their hands little memorandums, 
I could perceive contained the heads of their 
discourses. In a reply the proper arrangement 
is always to follow the course of your adver- 
sary's argument ; and hence those speakers who 
are not great masters of method and arrange- 
ment, often shine more in a reply than in an 
opening speech. J am far from advising that 
you should study the words or phrases you are 
to employ before-hand, this would only serve 
to confuse and em harass you. The language 
of an orator must be strictly his own, such as in 
general he would employ upon ordinary occa- 
sions, but as select as the rapidity of utterance 
will allow. 

5thly. In the course of an oration never he- 
sitate about the choice of a word. Take that 
which presents itself rather than look for terms 
more uncommon and refined ; for if the mind 
is once diverted from the matter to the words, 
your discourse will be deranged, and fail in a 
lucid order, which is a greater deficiency than 
an indifferent style; and it is also probable 
that even your enunciation will be perplexed 
and stammering. 

6thly . From the two preceding rules you will 



ORATORY. 



249 



easily perceive of what immense importance it 
is to an orator to accustom himself even in com- 
mon conversation to polished language, and a 
very nice choice of expression. He must never 
permit himself to use a vulgarism on the most 
common occasion, but must carefully eradicate 
all such noxious weeds from his vocabulary. A 
little attention to this chastity and correctness 
of expression will soon render it easy and habi- 
tual. No other words but the best will present 
themselves to your mind ; and on the contrary, 
I am convinced that unless a man has previously 
cleared his usual dialect from low and vicious 
expressions, they will obtrude themselves when- 
ever he speaks in public, whatever may be his 
caution and attention, 

In treating thus of extempore oratory, as far 
as applies to the eloquence of the senate, I have 
anticipated much of what I should otherwise 
have had to advance on that of the bar, for the 
same rules will apply to both, and I shall only 
have to add one or two remarks exclusively ap- 
plicable to the latter. 

I am far from agreeing with Mr. Hume and 
Dr. Blair, that the English bar affords not a 
fine theatre for oratory. They certainly, in 
M 5 



250 ORATORY. 

forming this conclusion, reasoned under some 
disadvantage, for they had only before their 
view the Scottish bar, where the trial by jury is 
allowed only in criminal cases. The observa- 
tion of Dr. Blair is therefore perfectly just in 
this case. " Speakers at the bar," says he, 
" address themselves to one or a few judges, 
and those too, persons generally of age, gravity, 
and authority of character. There they have 
not those advantages which a mixed and nu- 
merous assembly affords for employing all the 
arts of speech." This is strictly true from the 
view which presented itself to this writer ; but 
in England, where in three of the principal 
courts, as well as in all the inferior judicatures 
of the kingdom, almost every cause is tried by 
a jury of twelve men, selected by ballot, surely 
the very finest opportunity for the display of 
oratory is afforded, and especially as the advo- 
cate addresses them under peculiar advantages, 
with some ideas of superior learning and supe- 
rior dignity. 

The English advocate too has conducted the 
cause from its commencement, and examined 
the evidence ; he is therefore not only made mas- 
ter of the whole argument, but, if possessed of 



ORATORY. 251 

feeling, must have acquired some warmth and 
ardour in the cause. Grant that he is in some 
degree confined by the precision of our laws, 
still it is matter of fact on which he has prin- 
cipally to address a jury, and the less of tech- 
nical language he mingles in it the greater will 
be its effect. It would indeed perhaps be 
better if oratory had less influence than it is 
known to have in our courts of justice. It is 
somewhat checked by the sedate character of 
the people of England, and by the feeling of 
jurymen that they are bound by their oaths ; 
but still it is found to be of so much intrinsic 
consequence, that the barrister who possesses 
this talent finds that it infallibly conducts to 
fame and fortune. 

1st. The most important rule that I can lay 
down to the practitioner at the bar, is to make 
himself perfect master of the science of the law. 
Without this he can never speak with courage 
and confidence ; and he will also be in danger 
of incurring the ridicule of his adversary, and 
perhaps the contempt of the court. A know- 
ledge of the law will also supply the means of 
eloquence, or at least a substitute for it ; for a 



252 ORATORY. 

sound lawyer is always heard with attention, 
whether he is what is called eloquent or not. 

2d. The next requisite is a perfect knowledge 
of the cause in which he is engaged. This is 
indeed a duty he owes not less to his client than 
to his own reputation, for he actually defrauds 
the man from whom he receives a fee, unless 
he exerts himself to the very utmost of his 
ability. 

3dly. Though warmth and vehemence may 
be occasionally admitted, and sometimes re- 
quired, yet a counsel will commonly have most 
weight with a jury, who addresses them as ra- 
tional beings, and seems at least to labour to 
convince their judgment. In the beginning of 
his oration he should always appear cool and 
temperate, but always in earnest, otherwise 
they will have less confidence in his assertions. 

The plan and order which I laid down in my 
last letter is strictly applicable to judicial ora- 
tory, and every address to a jury must consist 
of; 1st, an exordium, in which he must endea- 
vour to conciliate their favour ; 2d, a statement 
of facts or narrative, in which the pleader re- 
capitulates or anticipates the principal parts of 



ORATORY. 253 

the evidence ; Sdly, it will be in general better 
and clearer to a jury, if he points out the pro- 
per divisions of his argument, as more of me- 
thod is expected from a pleader than in a mere 
declamatory address ; 4thly, the argumentative 
part is indispensable, that being the peculiar 
business of an advocate; 5thly, the peroration 
or conclusion should be always remarkably clear 
and lucid, and if the subject admits of the pa- 
thetic, this is the part in which it will com- 
monly be introduced to the greatest advantage. 



254 ELOQUENCE. 

LETTER XVIII. 

Rise and progress of Eloquence. 

MY DEAR-JOHN, 

IT would be a very pleasing exercise to trace 
the history of eloquence from its first rude ori- 
gin through the various ramifications of human 
genius ; to mark the powers, the character of 
the different men in the different ages of so- 
ciety, who have successfully employed this 
fascinating art. It would be pleasing even to 
pursue the science as long as the records of ci- 
vilized man permit ; and to trace the progress 
of oratory from Pericles to Pitt. But our ma- 
terials for such a critical investigation are very 
few. The best effusions of oratory are E*timpoT 
(winged words). Unfortunately for us they are 
not 

" Congealed in northern air." 

Not only we lose the music, the cadence, the 
action with which they were graced, but even 



ELOQUENCE. 5J65 

the substance of very few of these productions 
are transmitted to us. Of the orations of De- 
mosthenes, a very small number have outlived 
the depredations of time. Cicero, who for 
some years spoke almost daily in public, and 
who was the most diligent of men, has commit- 
ted to writing a very small proportion of his nu* 
merous orations ; even the eloquence of our 
own great and distinguished orators, St. John, 
Pulteney, Pitt, Fox, and Sheridan, are only to 
be traced in those meagre and imperfect regis- 
ters, the volumes of Parliamentary Debates, in 
which you are presented rather with the lan- 
guage of an illiterate reporter, than with that 
of the accomplished statesman and orator, whose 
speech he undertakes to detail. 

That oratory was not only practised, but 
studied with considerable effect from almost the 
earliest periods, is evident from the specimens 
which stand recorded almost as soon as lan- 
guage became stationary in writing. The ora- 
tory of the Hebrews is of a peculiar kind, short 
and sententious, like their poetry. But in (he 
Book of Job, in the speeches of Moses and of 
Samuel, we have some beautiful examples of 
the sublime and the pathetic in oratory. The 



256 ELOQUENCE. 

speeches in Homer would be admired even if 
they were not in measure ; and I am inclined 
to the opinion that the Iliad is not less indebted 
for its celebrity to the eloquence than to the 
poetry it contains. This, it will be said, was 
the work of the poet only, and is neither to be 
ascribed to the characters from whose mouths it 
is supposed to issue, nor to the period in which 
they existed. This I will readily grant ; but as 
the Iliad is universally acknowledged to be a 
minor, or dramatic representation of the age at 
least in which the poet lived, two inferences 
will necessarily follow That it was then cus- 
tomary to address public assemblies in the man- 
ner of the heroes of Homer ; and that no incon- 
siderable progress must have been made in elo- 
quence as an art. In truth, I do not know any 
production that a young rhetorician may study 
with more profit than the oratorical parts of 
Homer, and particularly the debate of the con- 
tending chieftains in the first book of the Iliad . 
From the time of Homer to that of Pericles, 
we have however nothing like a regular and au- 
thentic oration on record. That the eloquence 
of Pericles was unrivalled we cannot doubt, for 
it is asserted that he governed Athens (and he 



ELOQUENCE. 

governed it almost despotically) not less by his 
eloquence, than by his policy and power. Yet 
we dare not pronounce that the charming spe- 
cimens of the eloquence of this great man to be 
found in Thucydides are genuine. I appre- 
hend them myself to be the fabrication of the 
historian ; for they carry with them decidedly 
the marks of his peculiar style. 

But though we have not any oratorical pro- 
ductions of this period before us, we know that 
immediately after the time of Pericles, the art 
of oratory was publicly professed and taught. 
It was reduced to a method almost mechanical. 
For the topics or common places, which I have 
so frequently mentioned, were introduced at this 
period ; and these masters in rhetoric pretended 
to be able to make any person an orator by 
pursuing a certain course of study. Gorgias of 
Leontium accumulated an immense fortune by 
teaching rhetoric, but we have only a short 
fragment of his preserved by Hermogenes. It 
would be unfair, from so slight a specimen, to 
decide on an author's character ; but as far as 
we may judge from it, his reputation was higher 
than his merits. 

About the same period, it appears, there arose 



258 ELOQUENCE. 

at Athens a set ef men, who, having applied 
themselves to oratory, made a profession of it 
as public pleaders or orators. Lysias was one 
of these, and appears to have been a lawyer by 
profession, though some have asserted that he 
only composed orations for those who were prac- 
tising lawyers. His eloquence is therefore al- 
most exclusively forensic. Thirty-four of his 
orations are transmitted to us ; they are acute, 
clear and methodical ; no bad models for a prac- 
titioner at the bar, if we did not enjoy the ad- 
vantage of hearing better almost every day in 
Westminster-hall . 

Isocrates, of whose orations there are twenty- 
one extant, was somewhat posterior to Lysias. 
He was a professed rhetorician ; and his pro- 
ductions are indeed rather to be considered as 
essays than orations. When I read them as a 
young man I was delighted with them, they 
abound so much in sentiment and moral obser- 
Tation. In more mature age, however, I found 
the latter exceedingly trite, and the whole too 
studied and artificial. The style appears, as far 
as we are judges of style in a dead language, to 
be very chaste, though not animated. Isocrates 
is said to have been the first who studied a 



ELOQUENCE. 259 

musical cadence, and has brought it to great 
perfection. He ivas so nice in this particular, 
that he spent no less than ten years in com- 
posing one oration, still extant, the Panegyric. 
Cicero was a great admirer of Isocrates, and 
seems to have imitated him. 

Isaeus (ten of whose orations are still extant) 
was master (o Demosthenes, who, by the assist- 
ance of a surprising genius, united with inde- 
fatigable labour and industry, made so much 
advantage of his precepts, that he has always 
been esteemed, by the best judges, the first of 
Grecian orators. I need not repeat to you the 
common tale, that he retired inlo caves, that 
he might study without being disturbed, and 
that he kept pebbles in his mouth to correct a 
defect in his speech. He is said also to have 
hung a naked sword over his shoulders, to pre- 
vent him from using an ungraceful motion, to 
which he had habituated himself. From this 
we learn how much natural disadvantages may 
be balanced by diligent application and study ; 
and it is a proof also how ardently oratory was 
studied at this period in the Grecian republics. 

I never did enter into the very exaggerated 
praises which have been bestowed upon De- 



260 ELOQUENCE. 

mosthenes, and which have exalted him into 
something more than a man. Yet it would be 
uncandid and unjust not to confess that in his 
person oratory was carried to a very high de- 
gree of perfection, especially when we consider 
the early period at which he flourished. The 
power which he attained, and the situation 
which he occupied in the state of Athens, prove 
him to have been possessed of no uncommon 
force in persuading and guiding a popular as- 
sembly. But it is fortunate that we have still 
superior evidence to which to resort ; we have 
his own written orations. They are to be cri- 
ticised as studied compositions, since they are 
not pretended to have been taken down as he 
spoke them, but were made public by himself. 
Demosthenes, therefore, arguing from the speci- 
mens he has left us, must be regarded as a close 
and correct reasoner, master of a flowing, ele- 
gant, and harmonious style, as far ,as we are 
judges of these qualities in a dead language ; 
and with occasionally a very fine and brilliant 
thought, though in this he is inferior to many 
of the moderns, and particularly to Mr. Burke. 
He had but little of wit, though he occasionally 
affects it, particularly in the celebrated oration 



ELOQUENCE. 261 

against ./Eschines. One excellence however I 
cannot too much commend in Demosthenes, nor 
can I in this respect too strongly recommend 
his example to young orators. His arguments 
all tend to a single point, and are concentrated, 
like the dispersed rays of light when reflected 
from a concave mirror, so as to bear altogether 
with their united force upon the object he has 
in view. He never excurses into too large a 
field, never loses sight of his subject. This, I 
think, was the characteristic excellence of Mr. 
Fox's oratory. Other speakers greatly excel- 
led Mr. Fox in choice of words, in voice, ad- 
dress and manner ; but no man equalled him 
in the selection, force, and happy arrangement 
of his arguments. 

Cicero, wh'o is the only orator of antiquity 
who will bear a comparison with Demosthenes, 
and who perhaps possessed more genius, at least 
more imagination, was more diffuse, and con- 
sequently feebler than his Grecian rival. I 
think Quinctilian, in his celebrated comparison 
between Cicero and Demosthenes, says, " to 
the one nothing can be added, from (he other 
nothing can be taken away." The latter cha- 
racter, which applies strictly to Demosthenes, 



ELOQUENCE. 

you will easily perceive implies more judgment 
in him, and speaks him the more forcible ora- 
tor; such indeed he must have been, though 
the beauties of Cicero, when separately consi- 
dered, will perhaps attract the highest admira- 
tion. 

Though so accomplished an orator, Demos- 
thenes was certainly a very bad general, and not 
a much better politician. He had moreover 
the misfortune never to be obeyed by his versa- 
tile countrymen but when he happened to give 
bad advice ; and the jarring and inconsistent 
councils of a discordant republic, soon gave 
way before the persevering and .steady policy of 
Philip of Macedon. With Demosthenes, there- 
fore, fell Ihe liberties of his country, and with 
him perished the eloquence of Greece. Those 
who succeeded were a race of sophists, and pe- 
dantic rhetoricians, who tuigh' the art merely 
in the schools, and never introduced it (indeed 
they never had an opportunity after their coun- 
try was enslaved) upon great or public ques- 
tions. 

Oratory was however studied as a fine ant, 
under these masters, long after it ceased to be 
useful in Greece ; and even the Romans, when 



ELOQUENCE. 263 

they became civilized, and applied to literature, 
regarded rhetoric as one of the most important 
lessons to which they could attend under their 
more polished teachers of Greece. 

There never was a finer field for eloquence 
than was opened at Rome. Her government 
was popular; her judicature popular. With 
oratory their statesmen influenced the senate ; 
with a public harangue their generals le:l on 
their armies to battle and to conquest. I can- 
not therefore believe, with the French critics 
and Dr. Blair, that they were greatly inferior 
in this art to their Grecian rivals. 

The Romans, it is true, were a military na- 
tion ; but though this circumstance is but little 
favourable to the cultivation of the more pro- 
found sciences, can a nobler scope be afforded 
for that manly and erergetic eloquence, which 
great projects and great undertakings naturally 
dictate ? It might want something of that ele- 
gance and polish which Greece, where every 
pleasing and ornamental art was known to flou- 
rish, could boast. Their manner of speaking 
might be, 10 use the wrds of Cicero, somewhat 
" asperum & horridum;" but can it be be- 
lieved that it was deficient in dignity, aud iu 



264 ELOQUENCE* 

vigour ? I am not prepared therefore to sub* 
scribe to the opinion that Cicero was the only 
orator that Rome could boast. I shall not 
quote as authentic documents, the orations 
which are found in Livy ; but if we may judge 
from the effects, the orations of the Gracchi 
must have been exceedingly powerful. Scipio 
appears to have been not less of an orator than 
a soldier. The two Cato's might not be polished 
speakers, but they certainly commanded at- 
tention in the senate. With respect to Caesar, 
Hortensius, and even Anthony, we have the 
testimony of Cicero himself, and after such an 
authority we have no right to think meanly of 
their talents. 

After the accession of Augustus, there was 
scarcely any thing deserving of the name of 
eloquence in that poor shadow of popular au- 
thority, which was called the senate of Rome. 
The few specimens which are extant, evince 
that the history of Rome, under the emperors, 
consisted chiefly of studied panegyrics, or ora- 
tions on state occasions, like the declamations 
of the French academy, which nobody reads. 
They might be indeed sufficiently ornamented 
and polished ; but they want interest, because 



ELOQUENCE. 265 

we know they were mere artificial composi- 
tions, without a relation to any great under- 
taking or transaction of public life. The best 
specimen extant of these, is the panegyric of 
the younger Pliny on the Emperor Trajan. 

We have also some examples extant of that 
kind of eloquence which was taught in the 
schools of rhetoric, particularly the Contro- 
versiae, as they are called, of Seneca the rhe- 
torician, the father of the famous philosopher 
of that name. They are altogether artificial, 
full of antitheses and studied ornament. Yet 
much as I admire the genius of Dr. Johnson, 
whoever looks into these orations, will find that 
our great wrifet was not unacquainted with the 
Controversiae of Seneca. 

After the preaching of Christianity a new 
style of oratory was introduced, of the high- 
est importance as to the subject, but less ani- 
mated than the eloquence of debate, because of 
a more didactic nature. The Epistles of Paul, 
however, and even some of the later Fathers, 
contain specimens of eloquence superior to any, 
I will affirm, to be found in the compositions of 
either Cicero or Demosthenes. 

A late French writer, the unfortunate Mar* 

VOL. i. N 



266 ELOQUENCE. 

quis de Condorcet, in a posthumous work, af- 
fects to speak lightly of the writings of the Fa- 
thers. His remarks, however, only prove his 
ignorance, and shew that, like the rest of his 
superficial and contemptible sect, he had the ef- 
frontery to censure writings that he never read. 
They shew that he has never perused the sweet 
and flowing orations of Chrysostom ;* the ani- 
mated addresses of Gregory Nazianzen ; the 
unequal, but sometimes sublime compositions 
of St. Augustine ; the strong and nervous pe- 
riods of Tertullian ; and of Lactantius, who 
abounds in all the learning of the times, and in 
every beauty of composition. The criticisms 
even of Dr. Blair, on these writers, prove that 
he was not much more conversant with them 
than Condorcet himself. It is, perhaps, suf- 
ficient to say, that the most eloquent preacher 
of the present times confessedly formed his 
style altogether on that of the antient Fathers. 

The only countries in modern Europe where 
we can expect to find eloquence cultivated are 
France and England. The French have na- 
turally a sprightly genius, and a taste, though 
not a correct one, for <he polite arts. The Eng- 
* The golden-mouthed. 



ELOQUENCE. 267 

lish have had a great advantage, both from their 
genius and the nature of their government ; 
they have both however produced very great 
men in many different professions, and some 
orators who might justly contend with either 
Demosthenes or Cicero. 

In England, however, as well as in Greece 
and Rome, the highest efforts of eloquence seem 
confined to the great assembly of the nation. 
There are, no doubt, some good speakers who 
plead at the bar, but none of their orations are 
transmitted to posterity, while we read those of 
the antients with pleasure. The sermons of 
the English writers are inferior to none in good 
sense and reasoning, but they appear in general, 
deficient in spirit and animation. 

In the writings of Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and 
Masillon, we see a much higher kind of elo- 
quence aimed at than by any English preacher ; 
but these are as lamentably deficient in matter 
as the English are in style ; and, if we except 
a few sermons of Masillon, there are not many 
of them of much value. 

I shall conclude this letter with a short com- 
parison between two of the most finished orators 
that ever graced the British or any other senate. 



268 ELOQUENCE. 

It was written several years ago, when I was in 
the habit of attending the debates of the house 
of commons, and was originally published in a 
periodical publication, in the conducting of 
which I had some share. 

" Both Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox are strictly 
what may be termed business speakers. They 
argue like men of business, rather with a view 
of influencing their hearers, than of conciliating 
applause to themselves. They vary less from 
the question, and indulge their imaginations 
less than Mr. Burke or Mr. Sheridan ; and the 
superior force of their eloquence is the best 
panegyric on this species of oratory. Though 
agreeing in this one essential, the oratory of 
these great men is however in a variety of cir- 
cumstances materially different. A brief com- 
parison, therefore, of their excellencies and de- 
fects, whether instructive or not, cannot, I 
think, fail to prove entertaining, at least to 
country readers. 

" The first obvious difference which excited 
my attention was, that the one is the most ele- 
gant, the other the most impassioned speaker I 
have ever heard. The one carries the under- 
standing along with him, and while we are the 



ELOQUENCE. 269 

captives of his ingenuity, we imagine we are 
following the light of our own reason ; the other 
leads us no less forcibly by our passions ; and 
if Mr. Pitt addresses the head, every sentence 
of Mr. Fox demonstrates his influence over the 
heart. The one interests, the other convinces. 
The one conducts you over a pleasant cham- 
paign and luxuriant meadow ; the other forces 
you along with him, be the ground ever so un- 
even, be the path ever so rough and interrupt- 
ed. It is something extraordinary that the 
younger man should be distinguished by the 
greater extent and variety of his knowledge 
but such undoubtedly appears to be the fact ; 
and to account for it, we perhaps must have re- 
course to the different education and habits of 
the two orators. Thus Mr. Pitt is diffuse, and 
surprises by the multitude of his ideas, and by 
the variety of lights in which he exhibits the 
subject. Mr. Fox, on the other hand, is con- 
cise and energetic ; his proofs are arranged to 
the utmost advantage, and all of them tend im- 
mediately to the very point : he introduces but 
few arguments, few ideas, but these are gene- 
rally the very strongest, and placed in the 
strongest light. In short, it is impossible to 



#70 ELOQUENCE. 

hear the two speakers without recollecting (he 
observation of Quinctilian in his celebrated pa- 
rallel between Cicero and Demosthenes : " To 
the one, nothing can be added ; from the other, 
nothing can be taken away." But if it be 
granted, that from indolence, from the variety 
of his avocations, or perhaps from not possess- 
ing the means, Mr. Fox appears deficient of 
information on any occasion, what he wants in 
knowledge, he amply compensates for in inge- 
nuity. He catches almost instantaneously the 
slightest hint, and an argument which appears 
of no force when treated by a minor speaker, in 
his hands appears both interesting and import- 
ant. Mr. Pitt generally comes well prepared 
to speak upon the business of the day : to Mr. 
Fox, preparation seems unnecessary, since even 
from the casual intimation of his adversaries, 
he is able to produce matter sufficient, eitlier 
for attack or defence. 

" I have intimated that neither of them are 
very florid speakers ; and I cannot help think- 
ing it rather an extraordinary circumstance, in. 
Mr, Pitt particularly, that though fresh from 
the schools, we find in his speeches no classical 
allusions, no embellishments from antient li- 



ELOQUENCE. 271 

tcraturc, no pomp of erudition ; he seldom 
quotes, but rather produces the ideas of other 
men in his own words, contrary to the fashion- 
able practice of cloathing our own thoughts in 
the peculiar phraseology of books. In point 
of wit, I do not think either of them deficient, 
though they are prudent in the use of it. Mr. 
Fox seldom descends from the earnestness and 
dignity of his declamation to light or trivial 
remarks ; and yet Mr. Pitt's oratory is not dis- 
graced by that elegant irony, that polished ri- 
dicule, in which he sometimes indulges himself 
and his hearers. The candid of all parties 
agree in allowing to Mr. Pitt the happiest 
choice of words that graces any senator in either 
house ; but I confess I was surprized to find the 
editor of Bellcndenenus attribute, in unquali- 
fied terms, this excellence to Mr. Fox. The 
style of Mr. Pitt is in general so correct, that the 
auditor is almost induced to fancy he hears the 
studied composition of some masterly writer. 
The language of Mr. Fox is indeed generally 
forcible and expressive, but it is by no means 
so elegant, select, and harmonious, as that of 
his more finished rival. If fluency be a mark 



ELOQUENCE. 

of genius, in this too Mr. Pitt has the advan- 
tage. His words flow rapidly, but easily, with- 
out difficulty or hesitation ; on the contrary, 
Mr. Fox frequently hesitates, sometimes recals 
his words, and seems dubious which to make 
choice of; and though a very rapid speaker, 
his rapidity appears rather the effect of passion 
than imagination. With respect to manner, 
Mr. Pitt at first appears to have greatly the ad- 
vantage ; but Mr. Fox compensates in vivacity 
for his want of elegance, and though less grace- 
ful, is perhaps more interesting than Mr. Pitt. 
Mr. Pitt's voice is a full tenor, and his modu- 
lation is harmonious. Mr. Fox's is a treble, 
and his enunciation is affected by an occasional 
lisp. He soon teaches us, however, to forget 
these defects. His is both the language and 
the expression of nature, and without gratify- 
ing the eye, or charming the ear of his audi- 
tors, he commands their affections. 

" Such appears to me to be the general cha- 
racter of each of these distinguished speakers. 
I have seen each of them occasionally bear 
away the palm from his competitor, and I have 
observed each fall greatly below the standard 



ELOQUENCE. 273 

of his own merit, when defending a bad cause ; 
a decisive proof that ingenuity and command 
of words will not alone form an orator, but that 
there must be a good foundation of truth and 
argument ; or the most splendid harangue is 
but blossom without fruit ; a mere shadow of 
eloquence without substance or effect." 



274 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.. 



LETTER XIX. 

Eloquence of the Pulpit;. 

MY DEAJl JOHN,. 

IN this country there is only one department* 
of eloquence which admits of a precomposcd 
discourse,, and that is the eloquence of the pul- 
pit. I have formerly remarked that we have 
reason to believe the antients frequently, if not 
g-enerally, composed their public orations bei 
fore-hand,, and recited them cither from me- 
mory or from notes; and all those orations, 
which were pronounced in the rhetorical 
schools, cither as. exercises, or displays of talent v 
were composed with great study awl care. I 
have observed that the French advocates, before 
the Revolution, were also in the habit of com- 
mitting all theijr pleadings to writing. But in 
our senate, and at our bar, where skilful de-.. 
baters are of more value and weight than mere 
ilcclaimcrs, where argument has more forjqq 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 275 

than ornament, such a practice would be ridi- 
culed as formal and pedantic. 

The practice therefore of prccomposing a po- 
pular address, is with us confined almost ex- 
clusively to the pulpit. The principles which 
have been already advanced on the subject of 
didactic composition, and also relative to the 
parts of a discourse, will almost all apply to 
what is called a Sermon, which you see literally 
means a discourse, from the Latin Sertno. 

'Whatever there is peculiar to this form of 
composition will appear further, if we take a 
short view of (he origin and progress of pulpit 
eloquence. 

In the primitive church, from the earliest 
period, a custom prevailed, which may indeed 
be ultimately traced to. the Jewish, though the 
time of its introduction into the latter is net 
clearly ascertained. One of the most distin- 
guished members of the congregation (usually 
the bishop or presbyter) read a portion of scrip- 
ture, selected for the service of the day r . and 
proceeded wi4h a general explanation or ex- 
position of what had been read, concluding 
with a practical exhortation. These exhorta- 
tions were brief and unadorned, and were some- 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 

times followed by further expositions of Scrip- 
ture from others of the society, who professed 
to speak under the influence of the Holy Spi- 
rit.* 

It is probable that what at first consisted of a 
few short, and perhaps unconnected sentences, 
would gradually, and by those who possessed 
fluency of thought, and facility of expression, 
be made to assume a more regular form. Ori- 
gen (who lived in the beginning of the third 
century,) was the first who introduced long ex- 
planatory discourses into Christian assemblies ; 
and preaching began in his time to be formed 
upon the nice model of Grecian eloquence. 
Sometimes two or three sermons were preached 
in the same congregation by the presbyters and 
bishops in succession. Many of these dis- 
courses were extempore, but many were also 
precomposed. The sermons on these occasions 
were necessarily short, as the time allotted for 
public worship was only two hours. It was 
probably upon some of these occasions that the 
short sermons of St. Augustin were composed, 
many of which may be pronounced distinctly 

* Gregory's History of the Christian Church, Cent. I. 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 277 

in eight minutes, and some in less. Those of 
Chrysostom are however much longer, and some 
of them are evidently laboured compositions. 
As the institution of preaching commenced in 
the explication of Scripture, it still retained, 
through many revolutions of the public taste, 
some respect to its origin ; and, with a few ex- 
ceptions, a portion of the sacred writings al- 
ways constituted the basis of the discourse, 
though latterly it was reduced almost to the 
form of a motto, which had frequently little 
connexion with the principal subject; and 
hence have originated our modern Essay Ser- 
mons. 

During the dark ages, from the ignorance of 
the clergy, preaching was almost laid aside. 
After the Reformation it was chiefly extempore; 
but in England many complaints were made of 
those who were licensed to preach, I presume 
on account of the doctrines they advanced ; 
and to enable them to justify themselves, many 
of the clergy began to write and read their ser- 
mons. The ease which this practice afforded, 
and the correctness it induced, has continued it 
in the church of England ever since. 

This short view of the origin and progress of 



278 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 

this species of eloquence will easily furnish us 
Midi the precise rules which are exclusively 
applicable to it. 

That sermon is most useful and most agree- 
able to the nature of the institution which serves 
to elucidate the Holy Scriptures, and to clear 
away the difficulties \\hich may occur to com- 
mon readers. A sermon however ought always 
to have a practical tendency ; and though ex- 
planatory of Scripture, the minuteness of phi- 
lological or metaphysical speculations ought to 
be carefully avoided. Discourses which cuter 
deeply into difficult doctrinal points are seldom 
of much use, and are fitter for the closet than 
for a public assembly. Sermons ought to be 
calculated to interest and engage as welt as to 
instruct. " Propose one point in a discourse 
(says Mr. Paley) and stick to it j a hearer never 
carries away more than one impression." Let 
one virtue be recommended, or one doctrinal 
point be explained ; it is impossible to con- 
dense the whole duties of a man, or the whole 
system of Christian doctrine into a single ser- 
mon. 

. A sermon should never wander from the text ; 
and those arc the best which follow exactly the 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 279 

natural division of the text ; but this cannot al- 
ways be done, particularly when the text is 
short, or contains one single proposition. A 
few easy and natural divisions will assist the 
memory, but many subdivisions perplex and 
confuse it ; the exordium should be always na- 
tural and easy, not affected, nor yet trite, and 
directly leading to the object of the discourse. 
The conclusion should be animated, and skil- 
fully adapted to interest and awaken the feel- 
ings of the audience. It should therefore be 
always practical, and consist of an exhortation 
to make a right use of the doctrine which has 
been detailed, or to profit by the example 
which has been exhibited. 

The style of sermons should be clear and 
plain. It should neither admit of low cant, nor 
vulgar phraseology ; nor yet of difficult or fo- 
reign words, such as Latinisrns, or technical 
phrases of any kind, not even those appropriate 
to divinity as a science. Rhetorical flourishes, 
or metaphysical expressions, are of little use. 
As Mr. Paley remarks, " they cost the writer 
much trouble, and produce small advantage 
to the hearer." Above all faults of style the 
exclamation ought to be avoided : it is al- 



280 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 

ways frigid, and can scarcely fail to offend a 
sensible ear. 

The delivery of a sermon should correspond 
with what I have just uttered with respect to the 
style. It should correspond with the gravity 
and the dignity of the character which is as- 
sumed by the preacher. Those who attempt 
to act their sermons, as Dr. Warburton ex- 
presses it, degrade themselves into buffoons. 
That violence and inequality of enunciation, 
which sometimes becomes a player, as expres- 
sive of the stronger passions he represents, is 
offensive and improper in a teacher. Nor less 
disgusting is the attempt to speak in a kind of 
recitative, begging, pathetic tone, without at 
all adapting the voice to the nature of the sub- 
ject. Whoever employs these poor devices, 
will indeed excite the pity of the well-informed 
part of his audience but it will be for the 
preacher himself. 

An easy, temperate, and harmonious elocu- 
tion (with some regard to emphasis, particu- 
larly where a peculiar phrase requires that it 
should be impressed upon the mind) will al- 
ways be more generally pleasing, than any kind 
of affectation. Few can excel in the higher re- 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 281 

quisitcs of oratory ; few can become orators ; 
but all may be correct and agreeable speakers 
(at least with few exceptions,) if they will not 
be too ambitious for distinction. 

It has been debated, whether sermons may 
be most advantageously delivered from written 
notes, memory, or perfectly extempore. Dr. 
Beattie decides in favour of written sermons. 
Indeed there is scarcely any extempore dis- 
course which is not too diffuse for the time usu- 
ally alloted for the pulpit, that might not in 
fact be comprised in much fewer words, and 
which does not abound in impertinencies, tau- 
tologies, or solecisms. Yet a good extempore 
discourse has more effect in a common audience 
than a written one. A practice which has been 
much exclaimed against, but I think without 
reason, is that of preaching from printed ser- 
mons. If it does not beget habits of indolence 
in young clergymen, and is only the effect of 
modesty at their first entrance into public life, 
it is rather commendable than otherwise ; but 
they should be cautioned when they do pilfer, 
rather to take from approved writers, than from 
obscure, or old authors, as is frequently done 
to escape detection ; and it may be observed, 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 

that he who is unqualified to compose is com- 
monly unfitted to select. 

The style of the French writers I do not, in 
general, admire ; they are, it is true, animated, 
while the English are rational and full of argu- 
ment ; but both these should be united to form 
a perfect preacher. The French have but few 
thoughts, and these placed in a variety of 
lights, which renders them sometimes feeble, 
but they are, perhaps, more warm and persua- 
sive. There are some protestant preachers of 
the French, and particularly Saurin, who may 
be read with advantage. Amongst their popish 
divines, Bourdaloue is the most admired in 
France, but he is sometimes dull and verbose. 
Flechier is more ornamental ; but the most dis- 
tinguished is Masillon, bishop of Clermont, who 
is really an elegant and nervous writer, and one 
who well understood the human heart. 

In England, before the Ilesloration, the 
preachers were much addicted to scholastic and 
casuistical theology, and abounded in divi- 
sions. After the Restoration they became more 
correct and rational ; but the puritans still re- 
tained something of the old style, united with a 
considerable share of enthusiasm. The oppo- 



LOQUK*CE OF THE PCLPlT. 

sition between them caused those of the estab- 
lishment to run into the other extreme, and the 
majority of them became mere moral and in- 
sipid preachers. 

There is however a great number of excellent 
sermons in our language. Among the old au- 
thors I prefer Jeremy Taylor. He is classical, 
pathetic, and, for the time he lived in, elegant 
in his style. English preaching was, however, 
but in its infancy at that period : he admits, 
therefore, many thoughts and allusions into his 
discourses, which would excite a stare, if not a 
smile, in a modern audience ; and if any divine 
should wish to adopt them, he must have some 
confidence in his own taste, and some expertness 
in the art of abridging. Dr. Barrow possessed 
a more varied stock of learning than perhaps 
any divine of our church. He has written on 
almost every subject of divinity or ethics ; and 
,1 know few books to which I would rather choose 
to refer the student of theology, than to his Ser- 
mons on the Christian Faith. Though his ge- 
nius was mathematical, I confess there appears 
rather a want of method in some of his dis- 
courses. His style is in general plain and 
Chaste, His periods are not full, but run. 



284 ELOQUENCE OF THE PUL.PIT. 

smoothly from the tongue ; and his language, 
for the most part, preserves one even tenor. He 
is a great magazine of sentiment and informa- 
tion, and may be resorted to by young preach- 
ers, with great advantage. 

Dr. Tillotson's sermons have been admired. 
They are however, in general, too polemical, 
and the language is too loose and unharmoni- 
ous. It has few well-turned periods, and is 
sometimes as slovenly as common conversation. 
The sermons of this good and learned man eon- 
tain, however, some passages exquisitely beau- 
tiful. 

I can, I confess, read South with more plea- 
sure than the last mentioned author, though I 
do not pretend to apologize for his buffoonery. 
He is keen, pointed, sarcastic. He is a great 
judge of human nature, which he does not al- 
ways view in the most favourable light. He is 
always animated, keeps alive our attention by 
the energy of his arguments, the acuteness of 
his wit, and the terseness and compression of 
his style. He seldom affects the pathetic, and 
never succeeds in it. 

Bishop Atterbury is perhaps the most ele- 
gant and classical writer among our divines. 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 285 

His discourses have all the flow and elegance 
of Cicero, with the chasteness and purity of 
Demosthenes. His style is animated, yet not 
too highly ornamented ; and his allusions are 
original, classical, and splendid. The sermon 
on (he character of the Scorner is as animated 
a philippic as any in the compass of the whole 
of the Roman oratory ; that on Paul before Fe- 
lix is admirably pathetic. 

Some of Bishop Sherlock's are, in my opi- 
nion, among the very best and most interesting 
sermons in the English language. His know- 
ledge of human nature is perhaps superior to 
that of all the preceding writers. His arrange- 
ment is correct and striking ; his subjects well- 
chosen, his arguments forcible and ingenious. 
In general I think his doctrinal are inferior to 
his moral discourses. 

Dr. Clarke's are curious and critical, and 
ought to be read by every divine ; he is one of 
the best expositors of Scripture that I know. 
Dr. Jortin's are nearly of the same kind. They 
contain a fund of excellent matter, of keen re- 
marks, and original thought. Both these writers 
.are, however, rather curious than popular ; and 
are rather to be considered as repositories of 



28C ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT* 

matter, which may be occasionally resorted to, 
than as affording any discourses for immediate 
use. 

The sermons of Seed, and those of Dr. Ogden, 
are both highly ornamented ; and yet the orna- 
ment is of a quite different kind. The style of 
the former is diffuse ; that of the latter is the 
most condensed I have ever examined. With 
respect to the time which these sermons would 
require in delivering, the former ought to be 
abridged, and the latter perhaps dilated; but 
what modern architect dare lift up a trowel 
against the work of a Jones or a Palladio ? 

The present age has produced some excellent 
sermons. The principal are Dr. Blair's, Mr. 
Hewlett's, and the present Bishop of London. 
Some of the first are better adapted to the clo- 
set than the pulpit ; but many of them contain 
admirable delineations of human character. 
The two last authors are too well known to be 
affected either by my commendation or dis- 
praise, if indeed the latter could with any pro- 
priety be applied to them. I have heard it 
remarked that Dr. Blair's seem calculated for 
any time, and for almost any religion ; those of 
Bishop Porteous arc adapted exactly to the 



ELOQUENCE OF THE PULI'IT. 287 

present time, and the present state of reli- 
gion. 

Should you wish for more information on 
this subject, you will find it in an Essay on the 
Composition and Delivery of a Sermon, pre- 
fixed to a volume of Sermons which I published 
some years ago; which you will conclude has 
furnished many of the hints for this letter ; and 
in that you will find all the authorities for 
what I have advanced on the origin and pro- 
gress of pulpit eloquence. 



KVD OF vot. i. 



T. Gillet, Primer, Crowa-ourt, Fleet-stl*et. 



si UUUA. is JL^UH on me last 
date stamped below 



!& FEBIS 



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