ELEMENTS
OP TUB

OF RHETORIC
ADAPTE~FOR

USE IN

('()1.1.E<a:s AND ACADEMIES, AND ALSO,

STUDY.

FOlt l'RIVATE

This is an nrt
\\"Iii ·h duth menu nature, chnnge it ra ther~ but
The n rl it i;clf jg nnturc.
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Dy HENRY N. DAY.
·,

HUDSON:

W.

SKINNER

,.,. 1850.

& Co.
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PREFACE

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N. Day, in the Clerk's Office of the District
the D istrir. t of Ohio.

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· St~reotypctl at the
H unaoN
."): "STI?REOTYP lt Ji'ouxnnY.

1

T he particu lars, in which the Treatise on Rhetoric now
Q!fered to the public differs from other works on the same
auLj cct in the Eng- li sh lang uage, are chi efly the following:
First, l nl' cnti on is treat ed as a distinct and primary deprir tmcnl of the a rt of H.hetori~. From most Englis h treatise!! thia department has been entirely excluded; and rhetoric has Leen g enera lly regarded as confined almost exclu1il•cly to sty le. If we leave out of view some older and
nearly fo rg otten works that were modeled on th e pattern of
tho G recia n and Roman rhetoricians, Dr. vVhately's work
(urni~ l 1cs, perhaps, the only excep tion .to this general remark.
The wor k: of Dr. \ Vhately, ho wever, embraces but a small
porti on of what properly belongs to rhetorical in vention.
T he ntt cnli on of learnerB has thus been turned chiefly or
s~l ely upon sty le. ,. The consequence has been, as mig ht
natu ra lly be expected where mariner is th e chief object of
regard, tlrnt exe rcises in composition hav e been exceedingly
rrp ulsir e a nd profitless drudgeries. On the other hand, experience confirms most fully what was beforehand to be co nfiden tly counted on, that if the mind be turned mainly on
the matler,-tlie !lioug!it to be presented and the design of
p resenting it, i~ "~x'er~ise 'of composition becomes a most
' ·· ~
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i.lltere.sting, attractive
·and profitnble exercise. The mind>
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PREF.\CE. ·

having thought to express, and being animated by a
ceived object in expressing it, when furnished · with tlie
- guiding principles in such expression, acts intelJigen!ly ,' ·
easily, and with satisfaction to itself., Such exercise is in- ·
deed, one of the most pleasing employments of mind. s:yle, .•
itself, then becomes a matter of intered; for the desire is a
natural one to see th e thought so expressed as to accomplish
the object in expressing it. A found a ti on is thus furnished
for criticism; its principles a nd the application of them ·
become intelligibl e, and th erefore interesting even to the ·'
inexperiencetl writer. The ancients regarded .invention as"
the soul of the art of rhetoric; and the success of their i-he- .
torical training is to be attributed mainly to the fact that
their attention was chielly directed to this department of the :
art. The disesteem into \vhich instruction in rhetoric has .;,
fallen in modern times, is, perhaps, justly clue to the excln- ::
sion of invention from our rhetorical text-books.
:.
Secondly, the endeavor has been made, with what success ·;,.
the public will decide, to reduce .tq a more exact system the ~
principles of rhetoric, in the determination of the proper province ·of rhetoric, and of its departments, and, also, in the , ,
development of the principles involved in both didsions 0 ( •
the art. So far as was deemed compatil;>le with the chara~- "
ter of a practical treatise,-of an art as disting·uished from :·
a science,-the grounds ha ve been indicated for the devel-..:
. opment of the arf at each successi.ve stage. The divisions,
thus, are exhibited as given necessarily on rational grounds • .
It is a great satisfaction to th".IIlind of a learner to be able ;
to sec that the path over which he is conducted is not an arbi- ·
trary one, but is determined by the V(!ry nature of the snh- ..
~ect. Nothing is lost, while rnnch is gained, by a conform- ~,
ity to strict philosophical principles in the construction of :
,t~x_H>ook~ for the US(! eve~ of ~mnu~tur~ !Ilinds.

PREFACE .

The nu thor flnlt~rs himself that the vi ew presented of the
province of llhet oric, while it will app ea r in its own light
10 be phi losophi cally correct, avoids the con fu sion a nd diffic ulli c ~ . not to say the contradictions, that have been ex perirnc('d in ot her systems. The province of Rhetoric, as the
art of nr:dory , i s w ell delint:d and phil osophi cnlly di stin•ui, blil <! from L og ic, Grammar, Aesthetics, Poetry, and
El nrn ti nn. fod111li ug, as it mu s t ii' il he a proper a rt, both
lhr su ppl,1· of llJ(l11glit a nd of langtwge, it is s;ivcd from
i11-ir:g drg-ra drd to a mere neg ative, cr il ical sys tem ;-it be('Ofl!C .< a P ''~ il i n:l.v i 11 1·igora ling am! d eveloping art, most
nd111 irn ldy litlc rl lo c;1 1l f1Jrtli nnd di ;;cipl ine tl ie menta l

!'"" •r;

inn com ,:e 1Jf rnl iuna lly p rv;ci"ili ed a nd attractive
c.'.\r' .. ; .. " (" ' ''' ri ng lk cu .l ire li cl cl uf pme cliscon rse as adclri·., I·• a111Jll1cr rniud, it is r C' d l'ClllCll frn 1.1 tl1 e :;ltacldes and
1 ,1,kirra.-s men ts of tli1tt d ew wh ich conliucs it to mere argul!:rntativ!' composit ion, or. the art of prc tln ciug Deli ef'. This
'i•·1·: •·f H hetoric, in which Dr. vV hately is followed by th e
writ•·r of t he article i n the Encyclop;~ di<i. Britannica, co n~i~~,.. ,1Jy rnrr it d out, exclud es all Explanatory Discourse as
,, 1·11 n ; nll l'crs uns ion . The all usion to the one, a nd the
f.,n .. , r .i lts id crntio n ui' !he otl1cr, i ::i Dr. \ V liatcly's Rhetoric,
nc" j ·1<1 ifictl hy the author on grounds t liat arc not tenable
f, r a ""'mrnt. i\rg umcntatii·e Discourse, th e a rt of pr~
rl>1 rin:; belief, cun nu t, w ith out violence to th e we ll eslablis!tr r! i111 port of langunge, i ncl ud e t lial di scc urse, the prima ry n rH I con trolli ng design of w lii cli is to inform or in struct,
or llial, the en d of w hic h is to persuad e. Ins truction and
conrict ion a re as widely distinguished ns p erception and
belie f; n.nd it mus t appear on a very slight investigation of
the subject that ~generally speaking the same rul es will" not

"'be serviceable for attaining each of these objects." Narration and argumentation ha,ve little in common, so far as
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PREFACE.

rnEFA CE .

the conduct of the thought is concerned. ' There is very little,
accordingly, in Dr. Whately's treatise, except under the head
'of Style, which has any application to Explanatory Discourse,
as History or Description. And P ersuasion, although it
may make use of Argumentation, does not alway_s require
its help, and seeks entirely a different end by an entirely
different process.
The distribution of the different ·forms of discussion, and
of the different specific processes in each, will enable the
learner not only to obtain a m ore thorough knowl edge of
the art of constructing discourse than he could from more
general views, but will gTei!-tly facilitate th e practical application of rhetorical principles to actual composition: In his
exercises, he will know precisely what to do; while the supply of the matter of the composition, by being his own
work, will give to the whole effort an in terest an cl pleasure
which are entirely foreign fr om exercises in composition as
usually directed. It is the utter ignorance of what he is to
do when set to the task of writing a composi tion, as it is ·
called, which mak es the task so repulsire. Suppose, for
1
illustration, that" th e French Revolution of 1848 " be given •
out as the th eme of a composition. No inti mation being
given in regard to the object in the discussion of the th eme, the
mind of the pupil is left without an aim, and it cannot work.
It will be the merest matter of chan ce whether he propose to
himself any aim at all in the discussion, or whether he do ,.
not blindly and confusedly bring together manifold an d in- ,
congruous aims, and his_ effort, ~r sued thus irrationally,
give him only disgust from beginning to end. But let him ·
understand that it is as necessary to settle clefinitely the
object as the subject of his composition; to determine that "
he is to write a narratil-e of the erents of that Revolution,
or of its causes or its effects; or a d escriptio11 of its exciting

t«Dt• ; or argue its nec!'ssity or its ri g l1teo11sn css or its ex pcditnry ; or rx liiLit it as a political rno1·e me11t fitt ed to awaken
tmotinn~ of ndmiration or or fear and horror; or as a motirc
10 othrrs lo see k to gain th eir liber ties or to guard against
r rn• lutiona r~· outLrca ks, one or another or these objects
and hut 111>1', n11cl he is at once prepared lo proceed rationall y in I ii~ ll' ork. H e kn ows wl1at matter li e ne eds to colk r l n1.<I in wh:it furm.
li e ku o1\'s when to begin, how
10 fH11rrnl, un d "' here to cud. The procedure is now all
I' ~ in. ~ i11 1 pl e, and satisfa ctory.
Il e can see now at wliat
po0irit, J,j, 1·:fu rt is successful a1al at \\'hat it is defi cien t. He
on ·r, ...·i l'(· rrit iri .; m nt: d p rofit by it.
:\ 111· 11· 1111 :i l_
1.< is is g irrn i11 1he wo rk of th e properti es of
s l.1 J... 11 lii, li. it is hupcd, 1·, il l a id tl 1e stmle:1t i n ascc rlain:•g '" l1·d J'l'" Jln li cs slioulcl be sccmccl to cxprcs:< ion in rh cl11 ril· n:.d 1rl:n l foult s should he nvuicle<l, as we ll as in
ur:il1 :st arul i :i~ on 1\'ha t g roumls th ey arc cla ssecl, as pro perti r <•f ;t y Ir. Bot h in tl1 c d esign ati on, and i n thr enurneraticrn a ncl ,i._. -cription of th e oral p roperties, there wi ll be
ohs• ·n cd a depa rture fr om form er r.ys tcms which, it is
hnpt·d. "ill eo mrne ncl itself' to e1·ery candid and th oroug h
inl'cst igatur . It ' r ill be see n that these p rope rti es can lie
da ~; c d togrt her and lie su bdi vid ed on the stric tes t philosopl 1ica l pri nt' ipl es, and that, con sequently, th ey may an rl
shoul<l be carefully di sting uisl1 cd specifi cally fr om one anothe r a nd gener icall y fr om th e other classes of prop erti es.
TL e all e111pl l1as bee n made, al so, to reduce to some order
an<l sy ste m th e " Figures of speech" so call ecl.
Third ly, th e treatise has been prepared with a reference to
practical instruction in rh etoric; as an art, and not mer ely
u n science. The principles have been presented with a view
to thei r application ;~- suitnble exercises. It is accordingly
recommended in , th~ ' use of the work in instruction, that

VIII

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PREFACE.

Pl?EFACE.

exercises be prescribed to the pupil which shall involve
systematic application of the principles. A list of themes
has been added in an appendix, designed for exercise on the
principles of invention which apply to different kinds of
literary composition. It will be found useful to prescribe
themes of the different classes separately, and subject the
composition when prepared to the tes t of the principles
which apply to it. Thus, the exercises in narrative discourse may be continued till the laws of such discourse
shall become practically famili:u. The only exercises, perhaps, which the study of style readily admits, are those of
correcting faults or of ascertaining the pa rticular excellencies
of a given discourse. Particularly, will it be found to be a
profitable exercise to the learner to detect and correct, as far
as it may be, the faults it1 the passages selected for exemplification of the principles. ·T lte form of !he work, it will be
obsen ·ed, contem plcites a thorough studying of its principles. It is not a work from which a mere cursory perusal
will derive much benefit or ~atisfaction .

It is proper to add here that the origiual design of pre-,/
paring the work, as well as the plan of it, h:we been sug- ~
ges~d in the experience of the author as an instructor in
rh etoric. The endeavor to teach th e art under the g ni dance
of our common treatises on rhetoric, with a predominant
view to style or expression, proved so unsatisfactory as to
put upon a diligent search after a better method. That
method was found in the study of the ancient rhetoricians
and particularly in observation on the success of exercises
in Homiletics which were mainly exercises in invention; at
all events it was foun~ in actual experience, that the substitution of exercises in rhetorical invention,-exercises in
which the theme, the object, and the guiding principles of .
the · composition were prescribed,-in place of mere exercises

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IX

Ide witlwut well defined object or known la w of devell .
d
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converted what was
a most repu s1ve an• I
op ing. tl 1e thoiwht
t>
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un prolitnhle drudgery into an attractive and most beneficrn
inirll cct ual effor t.
In tlic actual construction of the work, free use has been
mn<l<' of th e popular works on Rhetoric in the. English. lan,.gung-•'. particularly for purposes of exemplification .and 1lluslr:i1i11 n.
Valuahle suggestions have, also, been derived from
dii rnt· c:crrnan writers, as Schott, Hoffmann, Richter,
f'. , r h«?> lrnrg . Thrremin, Becker and others.
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CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
ClL\l'TF.R I.
],u o\· 1 ~·i:·~

0 1.·

H111:r o ruc .

F 11:·1'" 1 n·1 tl l" F :1c11lfv of 1l i:-orn 11r~c .
l-.
H· l 1 1l ~JJ l'4 lo E tlikl'I , ~ci ( •IH'f' nf th l' Em<lfi nns , Acstltet-

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lcs, L og ic, G rn m111:ir, El oc ntlon and l'octry.

G

CllAI'TER Ii.
Hn F. To111c A DEVET.OP1xa

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AnT.

11. F .1,o t ond D rgr ec,

10
13

l .'- l ) , .\ f l''ll l S,

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CllAl'TER IIL
ll11 F.Ton 1c AN AE s Tnt~Ttc •.\.nT.

!'l. r; r.. nn d.
.11 . l·: l1· 111P11I.> of J1e:i nt y.
ll . . \ liml111c 1Je;u11y.

:i:11

19

21
22
23
24

.: L ( ~ r .1~ e.

.' I. Hl1 "torical Propriet y.

CIIAPTER IV.
K1sns

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OF

Drsco u nsE.

:?;..:?7. O r:i lnry.
:1!1- 11. n .. ril' ed spcci es. -E ~ i ;to!ary Compo sition.
~~ - ' H. H "r r~ se nr :i tirc D isco ursc-l'lll'e, lHixed.
.1'1-1 l. F orm• of Or:ilory-Judici:il, D eliberat ive, Sacred.
4:>. Kind • of Discourse.

25
27

28
30
32

CHAPTER V~
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,1, ln,·enllon, Style.

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CONTENTS;

XII
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XIII

CONTENTS .

CHAPTER IV.
I

FIRST GENERAL DIVISION---INVENTION •

CHAPTER I.
p AllTS OF INVENTION.
§ 42-46. Nature and Parts. '

35

10 7-109. Nntllre, Subjects, ilelatlohs..
110, 111. Luws.

.

78
79

CHAPTER VI.

DrsCou&sB.

47-52. Principles of selection.
53. 1\foral end of Disco urse. 54. Obj ects of Discourse.
55. Precesses.
56-58. Unity.
59. D~partments of Invention.

70

7l
72
75

CHAPTER V.
ExxMPLIFICATION.

CHAPTER II.
GENERAL THEME OP

..

\1 7-9::1. Spccics-"'-Division, Partition.
IO).. lo2. Lnws of Division.
IO'l-106. Laws of Partition.

GENERAL VIEW.

l.

ANALYSIS.

A9 ~96. Nature, Subjects, Relations.

38
42
42
4.2
43
45

c,,MPAlllsON AND CoN'ra.A.s-r,

112, 11'.l. Nature.
11 ~. K inds-sirnple, analogical.
115- 117. Laws, Relations, Subjects.

80
81
82

.CHAPTER VIt.
INTUODtlCTION AND PEROUATION.

CHAPTER III.

11q, 11!1. Introduction-Explanatory, Conciliatory.
l ~ ll, IZ 1. P eroration-Forms, Order. ~

PAnTs OF A D1scounsE.
60~65.

E ssential Parts-I>roposilion and Discussion.
66-7l. Subsidiary Parts- I ntrodu ction and Peroration.

45
47

PART IL-CONFIRMATION.
CHAPTER I.

PART I.-EXPLANATION.

!NTnonucTtiRY

CHAPTER I.
INTnonucTony VrEw.

72-76. Nature of Explanation, Th eme, Unity.

51

77, 78. Processes- Narration, D escription, Analysi•, Exem-

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plification, Compari;on and

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Contra~!.

CHAPTER II.

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57
51

80, 81. Simple Narration.
82, 83. Causal.
8·t Abstract.
·85-87. Principles and Laws.

58
60
61 .

CHAPTER III.
DESCRlPTlON.

88-89. Nature, Subjects.
90, 93 . . Process, Laws.

V11::w.

86

122- IN. Object, Theme. Pro cess.
125-.12 7. Hegard to Mind Addressed.

88

CHAPTER II.
TRe:lie 1N CoNnanrA±10N'.
128, 129. Form, Statement.

89

CHAPTER III.

· NAnnATION'.

79. Nature.

"

83

84

-.

PuooF.

130-132. Nature, Kinds, Process.
133. The Topics•

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CHAPTER IV.
Tua Tories.
134. Object.
.
135. Geneml Dlvl1lon or Proofs.
136-138. Anal.Ylic Proofs. -

91
93

94
95
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xv

CO~TENTS.

CONTENTS.

9 139,

140. Synthetic proofa ;~J. Intuitive.
141.
·· '
2. Empirical.
142. Empirical proofs ; From Experience.
· :·143-145.
Antecedent Probability.
. 146 149.
Signs-Testimony, Authority.
· 150-156. Examples, Arguments from induction, from analogy.
-157. Complex arguments.
158. Validity of empirical proofs. lW. Applicability of arguments to different subjects.

v.·

·cHAPTER
An~AN5JEME>ir_ oP AnnuMENT! •
160. lmportnncG.
161-164. Principles.

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97 ·
99
89
IOO
103
105
I 11
114
115

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CJL\l"f .ER III.
PA T ll ETIC ExPLANATION.

j

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CIL\l'TER IV.
SYr.tl'A'l'lJY
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145
146
148

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.\! orlcs-Direc t and Indirect.

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CIL\l"l'ER V.
1'-'TllOJJ UC'l'IO~"l AND PEHOllA'l'[QN.

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116

142

rrincip!t•s.

.:t.l, ',.'J I. K in d!f :11 l11iis:,i bic.

CHAPTER VI.
PRESUMPTION •.. -

165. Definition.
166-170. Principles.

PA!t'l' IV. - l'EllSUASlON.

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119
121

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llEF UTATION • .

171-173. Dcf.:iition and nature.
174. Statement of ohj ec lions. 175. Principles of repetition. --

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CHAPTER VllI.
~

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C lf.\l'Tl·:ll I.
O loj•·c l•.

150

::l j... :17. l' roc<·•• a nd Law s.

153

125
126
126

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CHAPTER II.
THEME-

154-

·: lq . '.: l ·l. Fnrm nnd Statement.

CJIAl'TE!t III.
176. Introduction Explanatory.
J77-185._
_ Conciliatory.. .
· ·187. Peroration.
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Pt:n 1q· Ac;1v v.

128
B2

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E xt> J. A S AT 1 0~, CosFIHMATIO~'"

-.: .• J.

Confir111a1ion .

~·.' I .

Ex citation.

155

157
157

?lfoTIVES .

'

CHAPTER I.
INTROD UCTORY

1,·'

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ExcITATION.

CHAPTER IV.

PART UL-EXCITATION.

·1:'•

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l'c r suas irc Explanation.

.188. Object.
189. Process. 190-194. Laws.

v

IEW.

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CHAPTER II.'
·"" TnEME. ·

, 195, 196. Form.
.197-200. Statement.

158
158

J) p(initlon.
z·.! ' ~·:: s o . Classes.
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133

CHAPTER V.

1:34
135

SPECIFIC AcTs.

ZJ l, Z3Z. Penuns!on, Dissuasion, In citement.

161

CHAPTER VI.

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ARRfl<GJUll!l<T.

:33-Z38. PrlnclPte- "' ·:-;.,: -,

<!'"'• '

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161

:x;vr

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIX.

CHAPTER V.

INTRO,DUC~ION

AND

P.ERORATIO~.

~ 239, 240. Kinds Admissib~e,

163

+?60-263.

XVII

RHYTHM.

187

Definition, principles.

CHAPTER VI.
l\fELODY,

I

SECONP GENERAL

z,-•..., Zfi-'l.

D efinition, kinds.
•;,.; Melody of l' roportion-nnture, principles. zhi'..:.:71. 1\le!ody of Arrangeme nt-nature, principles.

DIVISION-~-STYLE.

S o cGEBTIV.E PnoPERTIE S.

z;z, Z73.

CHAPTER I .
2H. D efinition.

204
•

204
209

165,

242. Analysis. ·

CHAl" fER VIII.

166

GnA;\tMATIOA ·L P ·nOPERTIES.

CHAPTER II.
·

Kinds.

;/7 4-:C80. lmituti\·e Properties.
Z8 1 - ~'B3 . Symbolical l' roperties.

NATURE •.

·

!!JS

CHAPTER VII.

GENERAL VIEW,

'

192
193

• l-'."3 7. K ind s, slan<lard of purity.

GENERAL PnoPERTIES .

' 2~3. Divlsions-.A,bs,olute, Relative.

168

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'.l'Jtl.

ll arl>ari•m s.
S<1iec i•m1.

212
216

218
221

.~"'.11, Z~:l . Im11ro prle tie~.

PART !.-ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.
PART IL-SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

CHAPTER I.
GENERAL Vu;:w OP LANGUAGE.

245. D efinition.
246-24D. Divisions-Oral, Suggestive, Grammatica.l.

CHAPTER I.

111
173

GENERAL VIEW.

'.293- 29.'l. Definition, divisi ons. -

CHAPTER II.
ORAL PnoPERTIES.

:?50.,.~52. Diviliiona-Euphony, H armony.

252. Study.

-

-

-

-

. , SIGNIFICANCE.

175
177

CHAPTER III.
EUPHONY.

253-255. Principles of Euphony.

296. Requisites.
2'.1 7. S purious Oratory.
298. The N onsensicu!.

227
227
22~

CHAPTER III.

179

CoNTINUOusNxss.

299, 300. Definition, modes of expressing.

CHAPTER IV.
HARMONY-HARMONY . PROPER.

256, 257. Nature-Divisions, H nrmony Proper, Rhythm,
Melody.
_
•
' 2.58, 259. Harmony Proper, defi ned, principles.
"' . ·" ·

22.'l

CHAPTER II.

230

· CHAPTER. IV.
181
185

NATURALNESS ;

301.,S0.5, Definition, forms.
~it

23a

.XVIII

CO~TEXTS •

CONTENTS.

PART III.-OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

.\PPE.\"DlX.

CHAPT E R I.

THEttn:s

l

GENERAL , , IEW.

\1303-'303. D efinition, kinds. ·

238

CHAPTER ' II..

·..

Cr.EARNEss. ·

310, 3 ll. D uli nition, so urce. , ·
312. Kinds of '.Yords required.
3 tl. R epresentati Ye Imagery,
314, 3 1-5. Structure of the Sentence, brevity. 316-319. Relation of the l'artS' of the Sentence, R elative '.y ords, Arrangement of l\'lembers, l'are ntb eses.

24:.l
244
247
24'.l

ENERGY .

','.f.,.
1.···::11·
..

, .;•t•'.:l

'·1'•·

. ;:.~'

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.; i

255
256
257
258
253
264
26 5
258
270
271
271
274
277

279
282

CHAPTER IV.
Er.EGANCE. ·

954, 355. D;,finition, elements. ' '. - ,,
356. Propriety.
357. Expression of right Sentiment•. ''
· 358. Grace.
:1~9-362. Culture of Elegance.

..
1

·· -

1, .• 11 , ...

FOlt ExEn c TSE IN lsv F: Xl'ION.

In Simple Narration.
;\b,;tra ct. Ca usal.
D r"<·ript ion }'roper.
1\ lo st ract De scripti on .
,\ 11 alysis.
E 'e 111 plilication.
C11111p:ir iso n and Contrast.
{;1111 linn at io11.

E xci tati on.
1•1• r:H1asio n.

·:-.I is,·ellaneous.
250

CH APT ER III.
. 320, 321. Definiti on, kinds.
322, 323. l'roper Energy, so urces.
324. Tirevit y.
325-329. Arrangement, Unity, Capital Members, Coordinate Members.
330. Figurative Energy, sources.. 3:.l 1-333. Tropes.
3:3 1-337. S imple Trop e~ -Synecdoche, Metonymy.
338. Metaphors.
339, 34().. ltt•petition, Ellipsis.
841. R epn•sentati\"e I111agery, species.
342. Vision, l'erso nifir.atio:i , Hyperbole.
341. Comp:irison or Contr;i st. 344. Pro;opopoeia, Apostrophe, Irony, D oubt, Interrogation.
345. 1 nv~r• io:i, J\.1ncolu(hon, Aposiopesis, Sententi11usness.
35:>-353. Priu ciples of Figurative Expres3ion.

XIX

285
286
287
287

268

291

293
293

zg,i
295
295

297
297
29:1
300
:300
300

t.

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I!
•

I

INTRODUCTION.

OF TUE IDEA AND l'ROVINCE OF RHETORIC.

§ 1. The object of the Art of Rhetoric is
r'

TO DE-

vr. Lor AND GUIDE THE FACUJ.TY OF DI SC OURSE.

An ~tis essentially distinguished from a science by the circu mstnnce that, while the latter proposes truths and principles
only as subj ects of knowledge, the former carries them out
in npplication to practice. An art, accordingly, always
contemplates the exertion of some power or faculty; and
proposes to point out the means and furnish the occasion of
developing and regulating that faculty in the best manner.
The art of Music, thus, addresses itself to the faculty of
song; and unfolds the principles and affords, in suitable
exercises, the means by which that faculty is to be cultivated
and regulated.
Arithmetic, or the art of computation,
teaches the principles by which we must compute, and, also,
presents examples for exerc.ise, with a view to render the
learner dexterous and accurate in computing. In like manner, the art of rhetoric proposrs to explain the principles by
which we discourse or communicate thought and feeling to
other minds, and to furnish the means of acquiring a skill
and dexterity in the use of this power.

l '

...•
2

INTRODUCTION.

PROVINCE OF RHETORIC.

The more particular determination and development of
this general notion of rhetoric will be exhibited in the
chapters of the Introduction that immediately follow.""

CHAPTER I.
OF THE LIMITS AND RELATIONS OF THE ART OF

*It will be observed that the term "discourse" is used here in its

RHETORIC.

more genuine import of •communication of thought by means of
langunge.• It is used by earlier writers to denote the faculty or
attribute itself of thought: a s
It.adds to my calamity that I ha ve
Discourse and reason.-Massinger.

§ 2. As the various arts are distinguished from each
other by the particular faculty or power which they
respectively call into exercise, the art of rhetoric has
its na ture and essential character determined at once
from its being founded on the faculty of discourse, or
the capacity in man of communicating his own mental states to other minds, by means of language.

R ea son is her being-,
Discursive or intuitive; dis course
Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours.-lllillon.
By a common metonymy the word denoting the attribute is used
to express the e:"Cercise and also the product of the exercise. Thus
I)ryden uses the word to denote tl1e exercise:
The vanquished party with the victors . joined
·
Nor wanted sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind.

.,
> ..

Various names are in · Cl!rrent use for the designation of
this art, conveying, however, slightly di!Terent shades of
meaning. The term eloquence turns the mind on the source,
and is equivalent to the phrase .verbal expression, having no
direct reference to the object of speaking. Oratory, on the
other hand, fix es the attention on the hearer or person ad(lressc<l, and directly suggests the idea of an effect on his
mind. Rhetoric, the art of the speaker, expresses the thing
itself, speaking, with no such reference either to the source

It is in this sense the term is us ed in the defi nition.
The use of the term to signi fy tl1e prod uct of the exerc.ise is so
familiar as to need no illustration.

)J •. '!f·

·'
I

·,

... 1'

...

..

r,,

:

; :

.-

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or to the e!Tect.

§ 3. Inasmuch as Discourse, in its proper and origi-

:

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3

~

: ~. ! . - ::'

:..';.

,·, ~

.

,..

nal import, respects an effect on another mind, and all
intentional operations of one mind on another come
under the control of moral principles; and, in so far;
moreover, as it expresses moral states or aims to excite
them, rhetoric bears a close affinity to ETHICS.
Tlie ancient rhetoricians, as for instance, Aristotle, rir
gar<led rhetoric as but a specific development and application of ethical science. So, likewise, it is now regarded by
This
aome German · writers, p~rticularly, by Theremin.

·"

' .JN1'.HO!JUC'.J.:ION. , _·';

PROVi.NCE OF ttllETOR IC.

much, at least, is true. All proper oratory is a personal
procedure. It implie_s a ·person in the concrete fullness of
his personal relations addressing other persons in the concrete fullness of their personal relations. So far it is a
moral procedure and comes uncler the supervision of ethics.
Rhetoric is, by no means, however, a part of moral
science. If it represent moral states, if it imply a moral
aim, if, consequently, it must proceed in conformity to
moral principles, still, it does not follow that it is a department of ethics. Every systematic procedure on the
part of man partakes of this moral relationship. Rhetoric
but takes elements or principles given by ethics and weaves
them with others, on principles of its own, into a particular
science or art. lt is no more a department of. ethics . than
of physiology.

§ 4. In so far as Discourse is a representation of
feeling or addresses foding in another mind, it bears
an intimate relation to the SCIENCE oE. THE Ei110T IONS AND THE PASSIONS :

· Rhetoric thus derives from this science the principles by
which discourse is to be regulated both in the expression of
feeling and in the e:,citement of feeling. It assumes these
principles, ho wever, as known, and does not properly regard
the investigation of them as lying within its own province.
It takes the analys.i~ of the feelings, the classification, the
description, the relations between them, as furnished by the'
appropriate science, and . uses them for its own peculiar ends.
~ 5. Discourse, as the product of a mind working
freely, and directly . aiming at an effect in another
mind similarly constitut~d," involves and requires the
exerci~e of Taste.
. ·'
• Rhetoxic, accordingly, presupposes the· science of'

- . -.:.-t
~

<'

5

TAS TE or AEsT.UETrcs.
It assumes aesthetic principles and applies them to the production of discourse.

The rel'1lion of Rhetoric to Aesthetics will be more particularly defined under Chapter Ill.

§ (i. As the art of communicating thought, rhetoric
presupposes Lome, or tlre science which unfolds the
laws of thought, and enumerates and classifies the
va rious conceptions, judgments an<l conclusions of
wh ich the human mind is capable. It, however,
mere ly assumes those laws as known, and does not
properly embrace a consideration of them within its
own province.
§ 7. As the art of communicating thought by means
of language, rhetoric also ·presupposes Gn.A~IMAR, or
the science of language. It takes the results of grammatical investigations and the laws of language as
scttlcu, and applies them to its own purpose.
Tlie field of rhetoric is thus seen to be distinctly defined
md scp:-irated from both Logic and Grammar. That it has
ever been suffered to trench on these fields and assume into
itself purely logical or grammatical investigations. and d~s­
cussions is to be attributed only to vague and mdefimte
views of the proper province of rhetoric. . It was from the
same vague apprehensions in regard to the proper province
of rhdoric that the ancient rhetoricians very generally
included in their systems the principles of Ethics and the
doctrine of the feelings. Even Aristotle devotes a large
part of his treatise on Rhetoric to a discussion of the nature
of the different passions or affections.
·
The distinction between rhetoric on the one hand, and
lo"'ic an& grammaT, on _the other, ,may, perhaps, be more
e~feclly appr.eh~nde.d fr91!1 the following definitions:

1

P

t"'t'

"

1··

.

6

INTfiODUOl'ION.

PHOVl:'\CE OF llllETOlllC .

Logic, in the more comprehensive view of the science, is
the doctrine of ideas, conceptions, and judgments. In other
words, logic enumerates the various possible states of the
intellect, whether ideas, conceptions, or judgments, classifies
them, determines their forms, and sl10ws their relations and
the occasions or modes of their appearing.
Grammar is the doctrine of words and sentences. In
ofl1er words, grammar un fo lds the laws by which the various
forms of thought appearin language; by which logical id eas
and conceptions, in themselves and in their relations, embody themselves in words and logical judgments in sentences.
Rhetoric is the doctrine of discourse. It takes, first, the
individual id eas, conceptions and judgments of fogie, and
unites them into living wholes of thought by penetrating
them with a rational aim; and then em bodi es these concrete
wholes into continuous discourse made up of the words and
sentences which grammar has furnished.
Logic and grammar th~s supply the lifeless and fr agmentary elements. Rhetoric takes them and constructs
them into discourse; into a living concrete whole, animated
with the proper life of feeling, and the proper moral aim
which discourse in its original import ever implies.

esiccmcd u constituent part of the art of rh etoric. Diverse
considera tions, however, justify the propriety of separating
them.
First, Elocution is not essential to rhetoric in order to
1·oustitutc it an art; because, as has been already remarked,
tlicrc a rc utl1er ways of communicati ng thought tha n by the
vuict!.
Second ly, we have a complete product of ar t ·when the
tb uuglit is embodied in a proper form of language. Short
uf this, uf in corporating into language, the artist cannot
i;top. For no art is complete till its product is expressed, or
c;ubodie<l . l\Iere invention-docs not constitute the whole of
ar tistic power, in any proper sense of that expressio n. But
when th e thougl1t is invested in language, a 1rnrk of ar t is
romplclcd. A farther exertio n of artistic power is not
necessary in order to give it expression. I t req uires no
skill to didatc, no oratorical dexterity, certainly, to commit
to writing. \Ve have then the limits of a complete art before elocutio n.
Thirdly, the arts of rh etoric proper, and of elocution, are,
BO distind tl1at great excellence in cit.her may consist with
g reat deficiency in the other. There have been many orators
who could write good orations but were miserable speakers;
un·d many excellen t actors, who were utterly unable to construct un original discourse.
F ourthly, the modes of training in these different arts are
so unlike, t!1at convenience, both to the instructor and to the
pupil, requires that they be separated.

§ 8. The a rt of rhetoric cannot in strictness be regarded as having accomplished its end until the mental states to be communicated are actually conveyed
to the mind addressed. . It~ therefore, may properly
comprehend Delivery . .
The mode of communication, however, is not essential. The thought may be conveyed by the pen or by
the voice. ELocuTIO·N, or the vocal expression of
thought, is not accordingly a necessary part of rhetoric.
Elocution or vocal delivery l1as, indeed, genernHy been

'

7

§ 9. In so far as Discourse is the embodiment of
thought in language, Rhetoric and the art of Poetry
stand on common ground and are subject to common
principles. · The 'c fuay :be'' distinguished from each
other by the followin~specific" uefinitions j viz :

8

INTRODUCTION.

Rhetoric or the art of Oratory is the embodiment of
thought in language with a view to an effect on
another mind ;
Poetry is the embodiment of aesthetic ideas in
language simply for the sake of aesthetic expression.
Rhetoric and poetry have, thus, much in common. They
both express thought. They are so far subject alike to the
laws of logical science.
·
The ~e~ium of expression in both is the same- language.
The principles of style, accordingly, apply, to a certain extent, alike to hoth.
They are both ac:sthetic arts; and come alike, consequently, under the laws of Taste.

l\~any of the principles of rhetori c are, therefore, equally
applicable to poetry. They admit illustrations, alike, from
both of these arts.
But they differ both in content and in form. All thought,
all at least, which can be serviceable. to the moral effect that
ei~her directly o: remotely belongs to all oratory, is appropriate_ to_ rhetoric, whether purely intellectual, or animated
with emotion and fancy. Poetry can properly make use
only of aesthetic ideas.
The langu age of oratory is not confined, as is that of
poetry, to mere aesthetic expression. Poetry has a style as
well as a content of its own.
Rhetoric, moreover, while proceeding in accordance with
aesthetic laws, admits another end which is forei"'u to
a~sthetics; ~nd aesthetic laws in their application to it~ t:Jrn
direct cogmzanco of this foreign end, which is possihltJ
See Chap. III.
throug h the aesthetic element qf propriety.
-\oetry has no such aim foreign to aesthetic expression.
Rhetoric and poetry, therefore, are distinct arts. difiien'n ~
f ll .
'
g,
essen la !~ 1? .co~tent, form and ' la\V ..ot_ p~oceeding. ' J'h~

rnoVJNCE OF RllETOnIC.

ultimate ground of the distinction lies in the aim.
The
orator seeks an effect in another mind; the poet seeks only
10 express beautiful ideas in beautiful forms for tlie sake of
t..he expression itself. · ·
Poe try, thus, has both
essential nature and a form
of its own. The form is the natural product of the peculiar
poetic life or spirit. It is only in partial truth that we can
ri ll y 'mere verse is poetry;' as we can only in partial tru th
'an iJiot is a man,' since r eason, whi ch the idiot lacks,
is the esse ntial attribute of man. So, on the other hand, it
is only in partial truth that we can say 'the peculiar poetic
spirit ll'ithout the proper poetic form makes di sco urse poetry.'
It is only as we may call a disembodi ed spirit a man; it has
!he essential nature;·nat the form. As a human spirit and
a hum au body unite in our conception of a man; so the
iioctic spirit and the poetic form must unite in any just
1:onception of poetry.°"

an

sJ;.

'I<

Tn a review of Hegel's Aesthetics in 1he Bri1ish and F oreign
fo r Feb. 1842, 1his idea of 1he nature of poetry is happily

J(p 1·ie w

devclopL•d. "Verse," it is there concluded, "is not synonymous
"ith poetry, but is 1he incrrrnation of it; and prose may be emotive
- poe tical, Lut never poetry. "
The following passnges, quoted in tliis article, will serve still
furth er to s1 nction and elucidate some of the positions given in the
text.

.

"All emotion which has taken possession of the whole beingwhich flows irresistibly, and therefore equally-:-instinctively seeks
a language that flows equally like itself, and must either find it, or
be conscious of an unsatisfied want, which ever impedes and premnt.ure!y stops tho flow of feeling. Hence, eyer since man has
been man, all deep nnd sustain ed feeling has tended to express
itseU in rhythmical langunge; and the deeper the fe eling, the more
characteristic und decided tl.Je rhythm, provided always the feeling
be sustained .as ; ell ' a~ deep.
F'or a jit of passion has no natural
!
connec tion with verse or music; a rnood of passion the strongest."
Westmiruter Revieroi April, 1838. The \erm rhythm~ here mu~t
•

h

I

•

)~•

no

INTRODUCTION.

·· CHAPTER IL

:.,;,

.

_;

OF RHETORIC AS A. DEVELOPING ART.

§ IO. As every proper act respects a faculty, ( § 2,)
: and as every such faculty is susceptible of development and invigoration which the art seeks as its great
aim to promote and secure, every true conception of
rhetoric must regard it as a developing and invigora-

ting art.

·

·

There is a most remarkable opposition between the views
of the ancients in this respect and the current opinions of
the moderns. With the ancients, rhetoric was chiefly prized
as an art which developed and cultivated the faculty of
speaking. Their written systems and their.. teachings in
schools were designed and fitted to draw out this faculty,
and strengthen and improve it by judicious practice. They
sought this even, as there is some reason to believe, at the
sacrifice of good taste. They loved luxuriance and labored
in every way to promote it. The moderns, on the other
hand, have too much regarded rhetoric as a merely critical
art. They have directed their attention mainly to pruning,
evidently be taken in its largest import, to include all the various
modes in which a recurring uniformity of expression can appear
in discourse, whether rhyme or alliteration.
" Poetry and eloquence, are both alike the expression or uttering
forth of feeling.
* • Eloquence supposes an audience; the
peculiarity of poetry appears to us to lie in the poet"s utter unconsciousness of a listener. Poetry is feeling confessing itself to itself
in moments of solitude, and bodying forth itself in symbols, which
are the nearest possible representations of the exact shape in which ,
it exists in the poet's mind. Eloquence is feeling pouring itself
forth to other mind~, courting their sympathy, or endeavoring to influence their belief, or move them to pa.sion or to action. "-Jllont/1l,Y

*

Rei><>•itory, Vol. II I. p. 64-.

RHETORIC A DEVELOPING ART.

11

repressing, and guiding; and have alm~st wholI~ neglected ~o
apply any stimulus to the faculty of discourse itself. Their
influence on the student of oratory has been, accordingly, at
best but a negative influence; and any thing but fostering
a nd nourishing.
This has been an almost unavoidable
resu lt from their excluding from their systems the ar t of
invention. For it is here-in invention-that the creative
work in discourse mainly lies. Style, considered apart from
in\'ention, is lifeless and dead; and can feel no stimulus if
applied. It drops, indeed, when thus regarded,_ from the
position of a creative art, to the level of a 1'.1~re science. It
· tl " not without r eason that merely critical
systems of
1s, 111.,,
. .
rhe toric are generally regarded as of more 111JUTY than benefit
to the student of eloquence, at least until the faculty of
~i)cnk in o· has been considerably developed.
"
. l earnrng
.
tu
The commonly
received maxim, " Iie w l 10 is
~pen.k with accuracy :rnd order is learning also to think with
accuracy "~nd or<l er , " expresses but a part of th e truth. The
study of styl e, and especiall y, the study of style as an art
in th e exercise of composing, u ndoubtedly conduces to ar.curale and methodical habits of thought. But "to speak with
ncc urn.cy and order," including in tlic expression not only the
selectitrn of langimge, but also the in ventio n of thought,_acts
more <lirectly on the intellect in determining its habits. Tl1e
· exercise not only disciplines it to regular and accurate
thoiwht; it also directly invigorates and develops the intellect itself. Indeed, there is· no exercise that more directly
and more powerfully tends to mental development and invigoration, w hen pursued in conformi ty with the principles ~f
thought and; exp ression. The mental effort call~d. fqrth in
the invention of thouo-ht and the embodiment _of it m appropriate Jangug.g is/ when.directed intelligently and correct~y, ·
nt the same tin)e,,the most pleasing and also the most m- ·

12

INTI! ODUV'I'JON,

vigorating and fostering that is possible to the human
mind. Rhetoric, therefore, studied as an art, in connection
with a practical application of its principles, may and should .
be, one of the most pleasing and one of the most pro fitable
of studies.

§1.1. 'rhe faculty of discourse or the power to communicate thought by language is the common a ttribute of men ; and is susceptible of indefinite degrees
of improvement and cultiva tion.
Speech is the distinctive attribute of humanity.
This
general truth needs no modification to meet the case of deaf.
mutes. While, undoubtedly, individuals differ indefinitely
in the degrees to which they possess the power of vigo rous
thought and of forcible expression,-while there are geniuses
here as in every other art, still it remains true that this
faculty is subject to the laws which regulate all the various
a ctivities of our nature. The degree of excellence to be
attained in discourse will depend on the training-on its
mode and the degree to which it is carried. Orator fit-the
orator becomes such. There is no such thing as a natural
orator in the strict sense of the expression. The most eminent orators and writers have ever been those who have
submitted themselves to the most thorough training. Patrick Henry, the most illustrious exampl e of natural oratory,
so far as there is any such, went through a oourse of training
in his daily studies of human nature as drawn out by himself in his little shop, his every day trials on his lingering
customers of the power of words, his deep and enthusiastic
investigations into history, and particularly his patient and ·
continued study of the harangues of Livy, which, to say the .
least, is very uncommon. The orator is the product of :
training.

HllI::TOJllC A DEV E LO P I NG Alff.

13

§ 12. The means by which every a rt seeks its dea nd improvement a rc twofold : by a stucly
\'C l opmcn t
, .
of the n a ture and principles of the a rt, a nd by exercise.
I t is obvious that there can b e no true skill or excellence
. .
t u nless its nature and the necessary pr1nc1ples
tn any ar
11 b ·
tl at
which crovern it are u nderstood. It is equa y o .vious l
o t 1· t l1i·s k·110wled.re will, without exercise, secure
o ·
no amoun
o

.

prnctic<Ll skill in the art. i
Obv ious ancl u nquestionable as are these remarks, yet_the
rn t1.rc i.urce <Lll d propn· e, t Y of each of them a re assailed,
.

indirectly ancl in application, by different ~hisses of minds.
. t s t he ~ctudy
One c lass reJeC
· · ·of·· IJri ncijJles !11. an ar t on
. the
.
t
the
observance
of
mies
at
the
ti
me
will
rnevitgrouml (I in.
"
·
f
.
do the execution They ridicule the not10n o a
a lJ ly unpc
·
·
·
l·
poet's asking himself, at _the ti me of c~mpos1ng,. w ~at t 11s
.
d tihat rul e prohibits '. ol. a mus1c1an s referru lc req uires
au
rin cr constantly, while performing, to l11s gam ut, .to the ru 1~s

of "'.tu ne, lt:trmony, force ' &c ., which he linds laid down Ill"
Thcv
obj. cct to th e use of Grammar>
"
•
•
•
l11.5 1'"I tl 8:1C.l· l GT i·an1111ar
.
. . ,... any art whether of poetrv, oratory, or music,
in acq u1nn"'
, ' l t d . akes only stiff and aw kward
because, they say, sue 1 s u y m
perfo rmers.
· l It is so
T his view is extremely superfi cial a nd partia .
fo.r tru e indeed, that a conscious ob servance of. rul es in
. ' will impede the fr ee operation of the mrnd ; will
l . I
d hence awk ward and
composlllfi
.
' .
make the proceedrng mec iamca ' an
li feless. But it by no means foll ows fr om tlus, that. w~1en
the rule has, by study and application, become a pr'. nc1ple
in the mind, .ruling it unconsciously, as is th~ case. with the
o.ll its free action, the proceedmg will be less
expert artist
.
1·
.
'·
ra~~ful
than it would have been witbout study,
f rce, 1VIng, g
'
0 ti
and of course in ignorance, or at hap hazard.
n ie

in

,

,

2

14

...

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t:-<·r1wnttc1'10N.

RllETOHJC A DEVELOPING AHT.

contrary, all proceeding in art is perfect only in proportion to
·the intelligence of the artist; and it is the law of the human
spirit that it learn slowly, by degrees, and from without.
Principles of art are not innate. They spring up only on
observation or study. How much more rational it is to
receive by study the generalized facts of all perfect proceeding in art with proper illustrations from models, than to
work them out, as does the savage so far as he does it, by
unaided observation and reflection, it is not necessary to
labor in demonstrating.
· The whole matter may be exhibited in few words. All
art, whether poetry, oratory, music, or printing, as a ra~tional procedure, must be in accordance with certain princi·
ples. It must proceed, farther, irr intelligence; that is, with
an intelligent conformity to those principles, either con· ...,
sciously or unconsciously apprehended. These principles
can better be acquired when reduced to a scientific form,
that is, to a form adapted to the understanding, than otherwise. Thus intellectually apprehended, as rules prescribed
from without, they become, by continued application or in
exercise, directing and animating principles, exerting an
unconscious control. \tVhat is drudgery at first, mere mechanic:tl application, thus, becomes eventually the most free,
the most spirited, the most tr~ily artistic creation. The
poetry of Goethe, and of Coleridge, is not less perfect, certainly, because they were intellectual masters of the princi·
pl es of poetry.
'
The other class reject practice in acquiring an art, hf'•
cause, as regulated step by step by a reference to rules, it is
necessarily imperfect and awkward; and, because, practice
merely for practice must be mechanical and spiritless. They
would master, intellectually, the principles perfectly, and
then hope for a perfect proceeding in compliance with them.
~

15

\V hilo the former class made art independent of intelli~cncr, these make it ind ependent of all training of the
cr!'ative powers. They occupy, consequently, the opposite
ex treme.
Tl11.: truth lies between. It is a law of the human spirit
11t:1 t it~ highest degree of fr ee spontaneous action can be at1 incd only by previous subjection to rule; and, generally,
11 11 • sc rcrer the labor in the observance of this rule, the freer
wi ll be the play of the creating spirit.
Nat ura fieret laudaHile carmen an arte
lJ1iaesitum est. Ego nee studium sine divite .v en~
Nee rude quid posset video ingenium.. Altenus sic
Alte ra poscit upem res et conJurat u1mce.

Horal. E'p. ad Pison.

These rules, of old discovered, not devised,
Are Nature still, but Nature methodized.
Pope, Essay on Grit.

§ 13. The knowledge of the nature and principles \
of the art of rhetoric is attained chiefly in two ways;
viz: by the study of rhetorical systems, and by the
stmly of models in eloquence.
The great use of systems of rhetoric, as of other arts, is
to fa cilitate the acquisition of the principles of the art by a
bri ef, methodical and particular exposition of them . Such
Nystems present the results of the investigations, the experience and ob9ervations of many minds. The utility of
1-irnm mars of music to all learners of that art is at once
perce ived and appreciated. A similar utility may be expected from correct systems in all the arts.
The study of models is equally importnnt. It is hardly
prncticnbl&· fQr tho human mind to obtain a clear and fa.
rniliar knowlodge of any art without illustration8 and exeinplifications. J Thiii gtt>a.t ! m_(lan' ,pf . training the ancients

16

INTRODUC'l'JON.

denominated imitation. !· In the use of this means, much
caution is necessary. '.
'." I~ ~he. first place, discretion and sound judgment are
requ!Slte in the selection of models. An immature taste is
liable to be pleased with false bea uties and excellencies. A
corrupt taste wiH select a model that abounds in the faults
which it loves; and thus confirm rather than correct itself.
The only safe guide is the established opinion of men of
taste and sound judgment. The world has pronounced its
sentence in reg:i.rd to many writers and speakers. Tbis
general and united decision it is ever safer to follow than the
erratic judgment of an individual.
In the next place, caution is necessary in the actual study
of even good models. A perfectly faultless model is no
where to be found. The bes t poets and th e bes t orators
have shone only in particular excellencies. As in nature
p erfect beauty is to be found in no one th1'ng, but our con-'
~eption of i~ is to be gained only by selection-by combinmg the particular excellencies tha t are to be found in different ?bjects of the same class, excluding the imperfections of
each, in order to obtain a perfect ideal; so in Ji.terature and
oratory, as in every art, an idea of what is perfect in ei·cry
feature, is t~ be gained only by the study of various products. While, accordingly, the bes t models are ·to be selected
for study, even these should be studied only for their characteristic excellencies. Nothing can be more injurious to
the taste or to the creative faculty of invention than servilelv
to copy any one model however excellent. Such serviie
imitation will, for the most part, catch up only the faults
while it will fail to reach the virtues of the model· and at
the same time prove fatal to all that originality whi~h is the
life of every art.

It is the proper function of a system of rhetoric to point

IlH.l.>TOHIC A DEVELOl'l1\G AHT.

17

out the best models rn the se1·cral properties of good disco urse.

§ H . Every art as a developing art must rely
11mi11ly on judicious exercise as the means of attaining
it:; end.
No knowledge of princip les, however thorough, no study
of models, however extended, will mak e an artist without
exercise. Indeed, there is a possibility of cultiv ating the
ju<lg111cnt and the tas\e to an excess as compared with the ,
crcat irn power, so as to imp ede rather than to aid the exertion of it. A highly r eli ned taste will Le offended and disg usted with the imperfect products of a feeble inventi ve nnd
constrnctive power; . a.nd__the work of composing may Le
111:ult: thus a constantly clisagrceablc and rep ulsive work.
Thi.i is experienced by nea rly all who have neglected th e art
of 1nitin 0 or speaking till th e taste has become cousi<lerably
1.lc n ·lopcd and cultivated. Tli ey find them selves unable, in
wriling or speak ing, to reach th e standard th at th eir relined
G.ste requires them to attain, and they are re-pulsed and dishea rt ene d. It is only when th e creatiY e power is developed
in some proportion to the tnste, thnt th er e can be that insp ira tio n whi ch fires th e tr11e artist, and nmk cs the execution
of lii s power l1is l1ig hest pleasure and clelig·ht. This d evelopmca t of th e creative faculty depends on exercise. As wit h
th e muscles of the body, so with the faculties of the mind,
nut Iii n;; b11t exer!'.ise can impart vigor rrnd strength. Exerci sQ i~ the parent of skill and power every >Yhere ; and no
w li rrc more th::in in writing and speaking. Tl1e >Yorcls cf
Circro should be p rinted in cap ita ls on tlie mind of e\·ery
stud r ut of eloquence; STIL US Ol'TllllL'S ET PRAES'fAN·
TI S~

l !l1\i.$4 D\CENJ>! ~l'1"ECTOR AC

111 .IG ISTEll.

§ 15. ·Exercise i11 rlietoric., in 01 dcr to he nust bcne·
2"'

18

INTRODUCTION.

ficial, must be intelligent, systematic, critical, and

abundant.

· § 16. INTELLIGENT exercise implies that wntmg
and speaking be pursued in accordance with the
known rules and principles of rhetoric.
Little will be accomplished by blind practice in any art.
A man may shout and cry, may strain his voice ever so
much and make little progress towards becoming a good
musician or a good speaker. The practice must be pursued
i.vith a clear, conscious knowledge of what the art requires.
And here is seen tT1e necessity of systems of rhetoric; to set
forth in a convenient form to the learner the necessary principles of the art;-to teach him what he is to \lo in it.

§ 17. SYSTEMATIC exercise implies a regard to the
specific functions or duties of the writer or speaker
taken one by one successively in regular order.
Every art combines within itself a complication of man:iparticular acts; of which in the exercise of the art there arc,
at different times, various combinations. The art of music
thus embraces the several functions of pitch, time, force;
and each of these particular functions may be analyzed into
various subordinate particulars.
A thorough course 0f
training in this art must proceed by a regular, successive
study of each of tLe,e particulars accompanied by a corresponding exercise of the voice in them. There are thus n
great diversity of acts requisite in the production of a good
discourse. These particular acts may be severally contemplated by themselves; they may be explained as to their nature, and be prepared for exercise singly and successively.
This systematic exercise on particulars is as requisite nuil
as useful in rh etoric as in music.

\

\.

RHETORIC AN AESTHETIC ART.

· § 18. E'xercise, further, in order to be most useful,
must be critical; in other words, must be subjected to
the inspection of a teacher or of the performer himself, for the purpose of removing faults and retaining
qualities that are good.
The proper time of criticism is alter the perfOTmance is
finished. To write or to speak with a constant reference to
criticism at the time, is to impose on the mind a double
labor or occupation, so that neither part of the work can be
done well. Such subsequent criticism is shown to be necessary at once by the consideration, that, otherwise, it cannot
be known whether the ~ork ha.s proceeded aright or in accordance with the principles that should regulate it. It, also,
greatly helps to give the principle exempli fied in the exercise
a practical, controlling existence in the mind.

§ 19. Once more, skill in rhetoric cannot be attained
except by much continued practice.
No illustration is requisite to show the correctness of this
principle. It may be remarked here, however, that the labor
of writing should not be pursued so constantly as to make
it a drudgery, awakening no interest and inspiring no entlrnsiasm.

CHAPTER III.
OF RHETORIC AS AN AESTHETIC ART.

§ 20. Inasmuch as Discourse proceed~ necessarily
in conformity with the laws of Taste, (§ 5.), Rhetoric is properly regarded as an Aesthetic Art."
- - - -• The term "Aesthetic "le preferred to " Critical" because the

1.o.ttcr is too excl~vely negative in its import.

20

'

INTRODUCTIO:"I.

· The various arts have been distributed into two. classes,
one of which has bee n denominated Free, Liberal, Fine,
Elegant, &c; the other, Mechanical, Useful, &c. Free arts
are those in which the expression of beauty or the gratification of the taste is the controlling end of ~he production or
proceeding; Mechanical arts are those in which some other
end, as of utility, controls the production.
There are two arts, however, Rh etoric and Architecture,
which it has been found difficult to embrace under · this
classification. Authors have differed from one another in
assigning them their respective placee und er it. They both
have an end foreign to aesthetics. Hence some have classed
them among the unaesthetic or mechanical arts. But Oratory ancl Architecture certainly of themselves awaken
aestheti c emotions, and have accordingly an aesthetic character ; other writers have, therefore, ranked them among the
aesthetic or elegant arts. A third class of authors, to mediate the controversy, have given them a middle position
between the two.
But the true issne is, .have these a1ts essentially an
aesthetic aim, even although jointly with another, that is, a
useful or mechanical aim? Architecture, certainly, does not
exclusively respect a us eful end. A Temple, a Dwelling, is
not merely a shelter. It is designed to affect the mind as
well as the body. It is, in this resp ect, essentially different
from a tool, a machine, a mere mechanical instrument.
Much more is this aesthetic character essential to eloquence.
As designed to affect another mind, it must affect it in accordance with its nature, , that is, in accordance with its
aesthetic constitution; · As expression, moreover, of one mind
to another, it must bear the aesthetic character of th e communicating mind. It is therefore esse ntially aesthetic in its
nature, being so distinguished both from its aim and fr0u~

- - - -- - - - -- -- ------- --------

RHETORIC AN AESTHETIC ART.

21

its origin. That it has a foreign aim does not, in the least
impede the aesthetic procedure.
For conformity to end,
suitableness, fitness, is itself an aesthetic element.
Rhetoric, consequently, like architecture, is something
more than a mel"ely decorative art, which adds ornament
to something that is not of itself aesthetic or_ is perfectly
adapted to its end without being in taste. It is, of its own
nature and essentially, an aesthetic art; as discourse must
be in accordance with principles of Taste, or it cannot be
perfect even in reference to its end. Oratory must, therefore, of necessity, express beauty in order to its perfection.
This cannot be said of a tool, a machine, a product of any
mechanical art.

§ 21. Discourse, as . ae~the~ic in its nature, freely
admits all the varioug elements of Beauty.
These elements are reducible to three, viz : Absolute Beauty, Grace, and Propriety.
The various elements of .Beauty are either inherent in the
obj ect itself or depend on its relations. All inherent beauty
is either absolute, that is, permanent and inseparable from
the object, or accidental and contingent. The permanent is
denominated Absoli~te Beaiity; the accidental or conting ent, Grace.
R elative Beaiity, or Beauty depending on relations
merely, is denominated Propriety. We have thus the following definitions.
AB SOLUTE BEAUTY is that element which lies in some
fixed property of a beautiful object. Thus the brightness of
the rainbow, the clearness and stillness of a meadow stream,
the fresh verdure of spring, are instances of absolute beauty.
GRACE is that element of beauty which lies in motion, or
in repose: the etfect. ~f previous motioU: The undulations of

.: .

!

22

INTRODUCTION.·

a lake when stirred by a gentle breeze, the easy gambolings
of a playful lamb~ the free motions of supple infancy, are
instances of the grace of motion. \Vhile the blending of
the violet conceived of as nature's penciling, the easy composure of an infant's limbs in _sleep, are instances of the
grace of repose.
PROPRIETY respects the relations of the object, and consists in conformity to truth in the determination of these
relations. It includes-the specific elements of fitness, con•
formity, harmony, symmetry, proportion and the like.

§ 22. ABSOLUTE BE,\UTY appears in discourse in
the subject, the farm of development of the subject or
any subordinate thought, and also in the mannqr of
expression.
1. The subject itself of the discourse may often reveal
aesthetic beauty.
Thus in Biography, a noble or lovely
character of itself stirs our admiration, and imparts aesthetic
pleasure. The biographer whose very subject is a character
vile, corrupt or depraved, labors under a constant difficultyso far as the gratification of taste is an object of his work.
In History, such subjects as · the Retreat of the Ten Thousand, the Roman Republic, the German Reformation, are
in themselves admirable. The orations of Demosthenes
against Philip, aiming at the independence and freedom of
the Grecian States, possess intrinsic beauty in their subject.
That of Cicero pro Cluentio, admirable as it is, yet has to
contend with .the difficulties of a subject in itself repulsive.
In fictitious composition, the subject is at tlie choice of
the writer; and in. his selection he has the opportunity of
displaying the elevation and correctness of his taste. This
principle will determine, very justly, the relative character
pd merits of the fictitious writings of Sir Walter Scott aud

IH!ETORIC AN AESTHE'rIC AR'l'.

23

o( those of the late French school.
How etherial and pure
are some of the writings of the Germans in this department
of composition!
2. Tlie development of the theme in discourse may also
contain this element of beauty. There is a singular beauty
in the following plan of a discourse by Dr. Sprague;" as
thus announced in the· partition. "The Christian does not
desire to live alway, because he prefers
Perfect light to comparative darkness;
lmmaculate purity to partial sanctification;
Immortal strength to earthly weakness;
Cloudless serenity to agitating storms;
The fellowship of the glorified to the society of the im•
perfect;
The honors of victory to the perils of warfare.''
3. In the manner of expression, this element of beauty
may also very generally be exhibited. In the selection of
his images, by the purity of his sentiments, and the refinement of his associations as evinced in his style, there is
wide room furnished to the writer for the exhibition of a
cultivated and elegant taste. The orations of Demosthenes,
of Chatham, and of Henry, abound thus in expressions of
lofty sentiments of patriotism and indignation at oppression
which impart a peculiar beauty to their eloquence.

§ 23. Grace may. appear in the subject itself, or
in the working of the speaker's mind in conceiving
and representing the particular thoughts of the dis~
course.

'

The subject may possess in itself the element of aesthetic
grace, so far as it admits of motion or change. . Living
objects and such as are subject to the influence of causes of
"National Preacher; 'vol. ·13,p. l2J .

•

'!i~ ~~'
.1~;

.r.:

1.•• ;

·.~~~
• '".i:

~~}

.

~

24

INTnonuc·r10N.

KINDS OF DISCOURSE •

any kind, physical or spiritual, furnish themes which admit
of grace. ·
In the particular thoughts and sentiments of the discourse,
also, as well as in the style generally, grace appears so far
as the mind of the speaker is exhibited moving freely in its
conceptions and its representations. In the ready apprehension of the subject, the discovery and use of arguments and
illustrations, the easy and natural expression of sentiments
in kind anrl degree appropriate to the occasion-whenever in
these there is ex ercised freedom, skill, dexterity, grace may
appear. For grace is but the expression of power working
freely.
The parables of our Savior rev eal this_ element to a high
degree in the richness and freeness of the illustrative imagery.
The sermons of J eremy Taylor furnish, also, a happy
illustration of this species of grace. Maca ulay exhibits this
element in his sty le generally. The expression flows with
an ease and a finish that exhibits great power and freeness
in representation. ·

§ 24: RHETORICAL PROPR IETY appears in the
speaker's selection of his subject, as well as also in
the development of it and in the style of expression,
so far as they are conformed to what is required by
the occasion, the laws of thought and the principles of
discourse.
The writings of Leighton, of Addison, and of Irving,
. possess this element of beauty in n high degree.
_'t -,_

•

•

25

CHAPTER IV.
OF DISCOUR SE AND ITS KINDS.

§ 25. Discourse, as the communication of thought,
implies at once and necessarily, in its primary and
complete signification, a speaker and a hearer ;-a
speaker, who in speaking seeks to produce a certain
effect in the mind of the hearer.
This effect is priinarily in the intelligence or und erstanding of the hearer; and secondarily and consequentially in the feelings and the will.

*

§ 26. Oratory, therefore, or address, is the proper
form of discourse in
sti:ictest a nd fullest import. It
constitutes, accordingly, the immediate object of rhetoric.

. I

The very nature of discourse, thus, marks out the field of
rhetoric as the ar t of discourse; and determines in what
light the art should regard other so called forms of discourse,
as history, essay, and the like. These are, strictly speaking, abnormal forms of discourse; and want some element
which is to be found in proper oratory. Rhetoric, in the
unfolding of its principles, should confine its view to oratory, therefore, not only because oratory is the only pure
form of discourse, but, also, because in unfolding the principles of oratory, it at the same tim e un folds the main principles of the other derived forms of discourse. It is only
from considerations of expediency and not of philosophical
accuracy that general rh etoric embraces any of theoe a bnormal species. At least, it has fulfilled its office when it has
indicated the distinction between pure discourse or ora tory,
and the several irregular forms, and thereby made known

3

26
1.i • •

27

INTRODUCTION.

KINDS OF DlSCOUfi S E.

the principles which come in to modify the laws of proper
rhetoric in its application to them.

prayer; it is otherwise, also; with the essayist. The essay·
ist merely expresses or utters forth without the distinct idea
of a listener, thoughts or sentiments which he regards as
common to himself and the reader. The distinct personality being dropped, the use of the plural becomes easy and
natural. Hence, probably, the "we" of editors and critics,
They expr~ss not personal but common convictions and sen-

§ 27. The primary and essential characteristic of
oratory as distinguished from other forms of discourse
lies in its implying the direct oppo!:iition of speaker and
hearer and .the aim on the part of the former to produce a certam effect on the mind of the latter.
Whenever, .acc~rdingly, this opposition is lost sight of by
the s~cakcr, Ins discourse ceases to be oratory. It falls at
once rnto the essay or some other impure form of discourse.
Hence the fi:st principle to be observed in all oratory or address~that it ever respect the mind of the hearer; and regard it as present to b~ influenced by the discourse.' · Trns
IS THE HIGHEST LAW OF 0nATORY.

.

Although. it may be difficult, for the most part, to single
out the particular forms of expression in which prope( oratory may be distinguished from mere essay, still thr. true
orutor~cal spirit will reveal itself throughout the discourse
and give to the whole a peculiar colormg.
There are,J10wever, some particular expressions that can
be named by which oratory is at once distinguished from
the essay.
Oratory, thus, always conceives of itself in the
forms of time and not of space; and lience avoids the use
~f th~ adverbs of place to designate what has preceded or
is to follow, and uses those of time. The orator never says
thus, "what I have said above," but" what I have said
beJ_"ore;" the ess~yist does the r~verse. The orator says,. " I
will sp~ak of this hereafter," not "further on," &c.
Agarn, the orator does not conceive of himself as the
~ere. mou:h-piece ~f the assembly, and does not, therefore,
identify lnmsclf with the audience in the use of the plural
pronouns, "we," " our"
· ot hennsc
. in pu bli-c
' & c. It IS

timents.

· § 28. Of the derived species of Discourse, two kinds
:u:e di stinguishable; one which drops from oratory only
the idea of n present hearer, as Epistolary Composition; the other, which drops also the idea of a direct
effect on another mind, a's Representative Discourse
generally.
§ 29. EPISTOLARY CoMPOSITION, as it differs from
proper Oratory only in the circumstance that it addresses an absent mind, conforms more closely than
other derived species to the principles of Rhetoric. Its
chief peculiarity lies in its not contemplating Yocal
delivery.
It will be remarked that while epistolary composition
more fr equently respects a single mind, proper oratory respects more commonly a multitude. At least, oratory rises
to its highest perfection when addressed to a large assembly;
for then the moral elevation, which is the proper soul of
oratory, is highest. But epistolary composition, when addr essed to multitudes, rises to high degrees of eloquence; as
is seen in the epistles of the Apostle Paul.
vVhen the epistolary form is adopted for the form's sake,
it then falls into the rank of mere Representative Discourse.

§ 30.

REPRESENTATIVE DiscouRsE, so far

as it

28

KINDS OF DISCOURSE.

It is pure when its theme is represente~ irresp e~t­
ively of personal modifications, and, accorclingly, m Its

diverges from proper oratory in dropping the opposition of speaker and hearer, has for its highest law, the
representation of its theme for its own sake.
All Representative Discourse, as such, accordingly,
has for its controlling principle, the following, viz: -

own proper character.
.
. 1nixe
. d , ",.'l1en it is represented as modified by
.
I t is
the peculiarities of personal apprehensions and convictions.

That the thought be represented in its utmost clearness, accuracy and completeness.

§ 31. We have, thus, the characteristics of the ioeveral divisions of Discourse, including Poetry.
Poetry represents for the sake of the form;
Representative Discourse represents for the sake of
the theme itself i
Oratory represents for the sake of the effect on another mind.
In Poetry, accordingly, the form rules; in Representative Discourse,, the matter; in Oratory, the exterior aim.
The intimacy and relationship between these bCVeral
forms of representation in language arc in this view clearly
indicated. The intrinsic dependence of the form on the
matter, the common attributes of the mind that addresses
and of the mind that is addressed, and their common relationship to truth as the matter of discourse, sl10w at once how
large a field is common to all these arts. Particularly, is it
seen how slight are the modifications which an art of representative discourse requires in the principles of proper oratory. Indeed, thi;se modifications are, in the main, such as
cannot well be set forth in distinct forms of language.
See§ 27.

§ 32. Representative Discourse
l\IJXED.

29

INTRODUCTION.

IS

either PuR.E or

The Epicurean by Moore is an exem.plifica.tion of the
. . d form of representatire discourse, in 1rh1ch but one
m~
. . U
. d is
. in
. t ro duced bv
nun
. whose personal characten sbc3 ie
. n is modified Ancient life is in it represented
rcpresent a t 10
•
.
through the experience of another, not from the <l1rcct perceptions of the author.
.
Where two or more pers6ns are introduced, the discourse
.
11 d a Dialorrue
The Dialogues of Plato, of Fon~
is ca e
" ·
.
.
tenelle, of Berkeley, are exemplifications of tlus vanety.

'

§ 33. The highest law of Mixed Re~r~sentative
Discourse is, that the personal charn.ctenst1cs of the
speakers introduced, so far as modifying the th.eme, be
carefully exhibited throughout the representat10n.
The Dialogues of Plato are the most perfect!! constructed
specimens of the Dialogue, perhaps, that exist, so far as
this fi rs t htw of the discourse is regarded.
.
If the representation be for the sake of the form, the discourse becomes Poetry. We have, then, the J11onologue,
when but one person is introduced; and th e poetic Dialog~te,
when more than one are exhibited. If the repr.esentation
exhibits an action, it becomes Dramatic.

~ 34. Of the Pure Reprcscntati:e Discourse, several
varieties are distinguished accordmg to the character

of the subject, as
Hr s TORY, the subject of which is some fact or event,
'3-1<

3o

INTRODUCTION.

single or continuous, in nature, as Natural History,
or among men, as Ilistory Proper ;
BroGRAPIIY, the subject of which is facts in indivichial experience ;
TRA VELs, which is but a more specific department of biography, having facts of a specific character
""m individual experience for its subj ect ;
SCIENTIFIC TREATISES, including the EssAY or
DrssER TAT ION, the subject of which is some truth, not
mere fact as is the case in History.

r ·;

It is to be remarked respecting the Pure Representative
Discourse, that it easily admits the proper distinguishing
characteristic of pure oratory-the opposition of speaker and
hearer. Just so far as it does this, the full form of oratory
appears; so far, at least, as address to a locally absent mind
will allow. It is not unnatural, thus, that the historian
begins his history as an addressing mind, and uses the forms
of address. As, however, the idea of representing the facts
of history for their own sake and not for the sake of the
moral effect on other minds begins to rule in his mind, the
oratorical forms, as those of the first person, of time instead of space, fall away, and the dis.course approaches to
the character of the pure representative.

§ 35. PROPER ORATORICAL DrscouRsE may be
I ''
I e
I:

It•
H

distributed into different kinds on either of two different principles, giving rise thus to two distinct sets or
classes.
One principle of distribution is found in the specific
character of the ultimate e1id of discourse.
The other is found in the specific character of the
immediate end of discourse.

KINDS OF OISCOURSE.

31

§ 36. The ultimate end of all proper oratory being
moral in its character § 3, there may be three different kinds of discourse according as one or another
of the three different forms or phases of the moral
clement, viz: the right, the good, and the beautiful or
noble in character, governs in the discourse.
The three forms of oratory thus given are THE
JUDICIAL, THE DELIBERATIVE and THE SACRED.
These denominations are derived from the fields in which
the several kinds of oratory respectively predominate. It
must not be inferred from the names that the species are confined to the respective fields from which the name is taken;
that the species of oratory, for _instance, in which the idea
of right is the governing idea of the discourse, is confin_ed
to the Bar. The name in each class is taken from the prrncipal species in each.

§ 37. JunrcIAL ORATORY has the idea of the right
for its governing idea. Its chief province is found in
the proceedings of Civil Judicature.

§ 38. DELIBERATIVE ORATORY has the idea of
the good for its governing idea.
Legislative Assemblies.

It is chiefly found in

Whenever measures, moreover, are urged on the grounds
of their expediency or tendency to promote the well being
of men, there is found proper deliberative oratory. Parliamentary eloquence is but one, though the most common and
familiar variety.

§ 39. SACRED ORATORY has, for its governing
idea, the lovely in character. It seeks to effect the .
perfect in character and is chiefly found in the pulpit.
Under this

cla;~

is comprehended

th~

panegyric, eulogis-

32

INTRODUCTION,

tic, or epidictic discourse. Only the lower varieties of this
. is
.
class
were
.
. . known .to the ancients · Th e h"1g her species
given in its pcrfect10n only with christianity.

. . § 40. Discourse, distributed in reference to the specific character of its immediate end, comprehends the
four classes ~f Explanatory, Argumentative, Patlrntic
and Persuasive.
'
.
d' The abo;e classification is found ed on the severa l 1mme1atc ends of discourse as enumerated, § 54.
'

CHAPTER V.
OF THE Dl VISIONS OF RHETORIC.

§ 41. Rhetoric, us the Art of constructinrr Discourse

e?1'~races two processes

which are in m:ny respect~
from each other. The one consists in the
prov1s1011 _of the thought embracing feelinrr and the
moral s.tate in its proper form, and is found:d mainly
The othe r· consists
· m
· t h e proviswn
· · of the
on Locr1c
o . •
ap~ropnate language, and rests mainly on Grammar
as its foundation .
T.he two great divisions of the art of Rhetonc, accordmgly, are INVENTION and STYLE.
d1st~~t

In_ many of the most popular treatises on Rhetoric in the
English language, the first of these processes invention has
been almost entirely
excluded from view · 's evern1 causes
'
.
mayh be aSS1gned for this deviation from th c nm'form
.
~et od of the ancient rhetoricians. The most important
one would seem to be the neglect into which logic has fallen,

DIVISIONS OF RHETORIC.

33

at least, the discordant and unsettled views of English
writers .
Another cause is the change that has taken place in logical science since the times of the Grecian and Roman rheto-·
ricians, which renders their systems of rhetorical invention,
founded as they were, to a great extent, on their peculiar
logical views, inapplicable to present modes of thought.
Their system of topic~ is, thus, for this and other reasons, wholly unsuited to our times.
The art of invention, moreover, is more essentially modifi ed than sty le by the particular department of oratory or
the kind of discourse to which it is applied. Hence the
ancient systems of inv ention which were constructed in
strict reforence to the modes of speaking then prevalent, are
, ill-adapted to present use. The systems of Cicero and
Quintilian, for example, are for the most part illustrated
from the peculiar practice of the Roman bar. Modern
writers on rhetoric , in following the great ancient masters in
the art, hav e hence been reduced to this alternative,- either
of leaving out entirely this part of the science, or of constructing an entirely new system. They have, for the most
part, in the English language at least, decided on the for·
mer branch of the alternative, and have generally excluded
almost entirely fr om their works, the consideration of Invention.
The perversion and abuse of ancient systems in the
schools of the middle ages have undoubtedly further contributed to bring this branch of rhetorical science into disrepute and neglect.
It cannot, however, be doubted on a candid consideration
of the matter that invention must constitute the very life of
an art · of rhetoric. It respects the soul and substance of
discourse-the thought which is communicated. Quintilian

34
justly

INTUODUCTION.

"invem"re primum fuit ESTQltE PRAEIt is in invention that the mind of the learner

says,

CIPUUM."

is most easily interested; most capable of sensible improvement. It is next to impossible to awaken a hearty interest
in mere sty le independent of the thought; us the futile
attempts to teach the art of composition as a mere thing of
verbal expression have proved. Composing when thus
taught must necessarily be regarded as a drudgery and be
shunned instinctively with strong aversion. It is otherwise
when the thought is the main thing r egarded. There is to
every mind a pure and elevated pleasure in inventing.
There is a pleasure in expressing thoughts that have sprung
into being from one's own creative intellect; of embodying
them in appropriate forms of language. How different are
the feelings with which a school boy contemplates the tusk
of w riting a composition w hi ch must contain so many
words, whatever be true of the ideas, and the work of
writing a letter to express some conviction of his own mind,
some wish, some intelligence? It cannot be ques tioned that
it is to the exclusion of invention from our systems of
rhetoric that the · neglect into which the art has fallen is
chiefly to be ascribed. The prejudices against it are also
ma inly to be attributed to this defective and incorrect view
of the art.~
•It is worthy of note that the most popular system of rhetoric
now in nse in the English langu age, th at of Dr. Whately, owes
nea rly ail its excellence and its reputation as an origina l work to
thi> circumstance that it embraces, in the First Part, a brief and
imperfect view of this branch of the Science.

FIRST GENERAL DIVISION.

INVENTION
GENERAL VI KW.
CHAPTER I.
OF THE NATURE AND PARTS OF INVEKTI OX .

§ 42. Rhetorical Invention is the art of .supplyin;
the r equisite thought in kind and form for discourse.
§ 43. It embraces Invention Proper or the. mer:
supply of the thought, and Arrangement or Disposition.
The propriety of regardin g arrangement as a part. of the
process of invention may be seen from several pornts of
view.

In the first place, the principle of division that has been
adopted, by .which rhetoric is regarded as embracing the two
principles of inv1mtio1_1. or the supply of thou ght, and of the
e....:prei;sion of thought in lo.nguage or style, ut o~ce compels

36

INVENTION.

to this treatment of arrangement. The two elements of
thought and verbal expression are both essential clements,
nnd are the only elements of discourse. It would be unphilosophical to introduce another principle of division, which
would be necessary in order to admit disposition or nrrangt>ment as a distinct constituent part of the art of rhetoric.
Again, the proce~s of invention cannot proceed but by
order or method; and the very supply of the thought must
therefore. include a more or less definite regard to the al'rangement. It becomes necessary, thus, to treat of arrangement or disposition, so far as it can be distinctly treated of
as a subordinate and constituent part ?f in ventiuu.
The same observations, obviously, are applicable to method in style.

§ 44. The process of invention is applied either to
the general theme or topic of the discourse, or to the
particular thoughts by means of which that general
theme is presented to the mind addressed for the purpose of accomplishing the object uf tlw Ji:;cuur:;c.
§ 45. 'J'.he general theme or topic of discourse is
sometimes g iven or furnished in a more or less definite
form to the speaker or writer; sometimes is wholly
left to his free choice,

I

In the eloquence of the bar and of th e Senate, the topics

'
I

I:
i

t

of discussion are determined beforehand for the most part
to the speaker. Even here, however, there is much room
for the exercise of invention. The particular theme proposed
is to be taken up into the mind of the speaker; it is to be
shaped to his habit of thought; it is to be defined and determined so as best to meet his particular purpose in discussing
it; it is to be suited to th e particular circumstances in which
be speaks and to the mode in which he shall determine to

PAn·rs OF' INVG:\'Tll)'.'/.

37'

handlt it. The same question will thus be stated in very
differen t forms by different speakers; and no small degree
of oratorical skill is often displayed in the mode of conceiving and prese nting the particular subject of debate. The
same observations are applicable to every species of discourse or com position where the subject is proposed to the
speaker or writer.
Where th e subject is left to tb c fr ee choice of th e speaker,
there is room for a still higl1er display of inventive power.
It is with the orator or writer as with the sculptor or
painter. The subj ect itself shows th e ge nius of the artist.
The subj ect is ieft thus free to a considerable exte nt in the
eloquence of the pulpit, as 1~ell as in most occasional addresses, in essays and otlier compositions.

§ 4G. The particular subordina te thoughts by which
' the general theme is developed and presented to the
mind addressed, while they must all lie in the field of
the general theme and must likewise consist with the
obj(.,'-Cl of Lhc discourse, arc, w ilh these limitations,
open to the choice of the speaker.
As a rational discourse necessarily implies a unity, this
unitv must be in the singleness of . the theme and of the ob..
ject of the discourse, C§ 56 ) . Accordingly all t.ho~ghts
introduced must stand in a subordinate relat10n to this srngle
theme, and, also, to this single object. Hence the principle,
which admits of no exception in rational discourse, that no
thoughts be introduced that do not both consist with the
theme and the object and, also, tend to develop the one and
J

accomplish the other.
.
While, thus, the subordinate and developing thoughts must.
all be found in: the field .of thB one general theme, and of
these only sucl,i -can· be takl)n. as consist with the object of
' '4

39

INVENTION.

THEME OF DISCOURSE.

the discourse; within these limits there is free range for in•
vention. The fullness and richness of these subordinate
thoughts will display the richness of mental furniture possessed by the speaker, the control he has over this stock of
thought, and the fertility generally of his faculties of invention. The selection out of this stock will exhibit the soundness and promptness of his judgmeat and the power he has
of steadily pursuing his object.

cussion, and still farther by the process by which the dis-

38

CHAPTER IL
OF THE GENERAL THEME OF A DISCOURSE.

§ 47. The process of invention . as applied to the
general theme of discourse consists in the selection of
the theme and in the determination of the particular
form in which it is to be discussed.
In the very use of the expression "the them e,''-a
singular and ,not a plural term-is indicated the necessity
of singleness in the theme. It seems to border on absurdity
to speak ' of the th emes of a discourse. Discourse can
hardly with propriety be called one which has more than
one general theme. The unity of a discourse, in which,
indeed, lies its very life, requires that there be but one
thought to which every other shall be subordinate and subservient, utterly forbids the introduction of two or more
co-ordinate thoughts.
In the singleness of the theme, lies the first and broadest
principle of unity. As will be exhibited in the proper ·
place, the broader unity determined by the singleness of the
theme will be narrowed by the particular object in the dis-

cussion is conducted.

§ 48. The principles which reg ulate tl~is process
regard either the mind of the speaker" hunself, the
occasion of speaking, the mind addressed, or the object of the discourse.
§ 49. In selecting his theme_ and det~nnining the
particular aspect to be taken .of 1t, :he writer has need
to consult his own mind cluefly m reference to the
capabilities of supplying the parti~ular ~houghts and
illustrations by m eans of which his subject is to be
presented and developed.
No one in proper discourse writes merely with a view to
an effect on himself. Sometimes, indeed, the pen may be
employed in investigation. Such compositions, however,
are not proper discourse, which alway s more or. less definitely or directly respects an.other mind. Th~ wnter: therefore, will need ever to select a theme on which.he is co_m·
petent to write; respecting ~h~ch ~e has ample mformahon
and means of illustration withm his power.
It is nevertheless a great mistake, although a common
one, t o suppose tll at a snbJ. ect very familiar and at the same
time very comprehensive, is most favorabl: to ease of ~xe~ution. Invention is an originating, creative process m its
essential nature. As such it is the most propc~ ~nd delightful work of a rational being; and whenever it is pursued,
imparts a pleasure which itself fires. ane.w t.he energy ~f. the
.
t'ive fa culty • This is the mspiration of ongmal
lnven

* In order to avoid all unnecessary multiplkati~~ o_r wor~s, ~ut
' fi
"writer" and "speaker, w1ll ordmanly
one of the spec• c terms,
.
t>e used hereafter, even when the generic notion. of tbe person dur·
.
whether through
the pen or the voice, 1s meant.
coursing,
_..

JNVE:\'TION.

genius-the rapture that necessarily attends the production
of new thoughts and f~rms of thought. Whenever a
familiar and, at the same time, a broad and comprehensive
theme is selected, if especially the limits of the composition
be narrow, only general, familiar views can be taken, and
there is no life of invention. It is a cold, inanimate work
of the memory recalling dead thought. There is no inspiration, no satisfaction. There must be some new view
taken, something original, or the work of invention must
necessarily be laborious and heavy. Now it is specific views
that furnish the occasion of original invention. In them
the writer shuns the general, common-place notions that are
familiar to all. The more specific and definite, therefore,
the theme, the easier will be the work of invention. Caution only is necessary that the field of view be -.not too
limited for the writer's power of invention; since only the
most vigorous and practiced writer can take the most minute
and particular views.
Young writers should be on their guard against what are
called "fertile subjects." They are generally unfavorable
to the exercise of invention, and therefore, most difficult to
handle; because they are so comprehensive that only general
and common-place views can be taken.
It may be proper here to put young writers on their
guard, also, in selecting themes, against specious mottoes
or titles. The dress of language in which the theme is invested is not the theme itself. The one may be rich and
-gorgeous, while the other is miserably lean and dry. It
need hardly be said that the facility with which the work of
invention will proceed will depend on the richness of the
thought itself which constitutes the the1~e, not on the garb
_it may chance to wear.
-

§ 50. A proper regard to the occasion of speaking

THEME OF DlSCOURSE.

41

will determine the process of invention not only in
reference to the character of the theme to be selected,
but, also, in reference to the latitude as well as particular field of view that is taken, and the illustrations
that are to be presented.

§ 51. There is obviously, likewise, a necessity of
consulting the character of the audience ; the extent
of their infol'mation, their peculiar habits of thought,
their feelings also, and their relations to the speaker.
There is perhaps no point to which Cicero's fundamental
rule in regard to all discourse, that it consist with propriety" itt deceat "-has greater force of application than here.
It cannot be too earnestly inculcated on every speaker to
consult carefully the minds and feelings of those whom he
' is to address in the selection of his theme and, also, in the
development of it. Any offense against propriety or decorum here is more fatal to all the ends of speaking than any
where else.

§ 52. The c!rnracter of the theme and the particular view that is taken of it as well as the general
mode of developing it will also be affected by the particular object which the writer may wish to accomplish in his discourse.
It is assumed that all proper discourse has an object. A
speaker does not speak without an end in view. This end
or object lies in the mind addressed, and consists in some
chancre
to be effected there by the discourse.
0
.
Dr. \Vhately, indeed, enumerates some species of what
he calls "spurious oratory," as where one speaks merely to
seem to !lay something, when there is in fact nothing to bssaid; or to occupy _t_ime; or for mere display of eloquence.
4"'

42

INVENTION.

The very name, however," spurious oratory," indicates that
all true discourse must have an · object or end to be accomplished by the communication of thought to another mind.
VI e must seek, the: efore, in the mind addressed the determination of the particular possible obj ects of discourse.

§ 53. The ultimate end of all discourse partakes of
a moral or ethical . character ; but the immediate objects through which this ultimate end is reached may
lie in the underst:rnding, the feelings, or the will of
the persons addressed.
.•.

§ 54. The possible immediate objects of all proper
discourse are but four in number, viz: EXPLANATION,
CoNVlCTION, Exc1T.ATION, and PERSUASION.
A change produced by' discourse in the understanding
may be either a new or modi fied conception, or a new or
modified judg ment. Hence the two forms of address to the
understanding.

§ 55. The process by which a new conception is
produced, is.. by E :q1lanation ; that by which a n ew
judgment is produced, is by Conviction; A change in
the sensibilities is effected by the process of Excitation; and in the will, by that of P ersuasion.
These processes, it will be observed, are named fr om the
positive species; and the designations given embrace as well
them as their opposites. In explanation, thus, we either produce a new conception, or correct or modify one already existing. Conviction includes both the production of a new opinion or judgment, and the removal ·or modification of one already existing. So, likewise, exc;tation embraces the awakening of a ne w feeling, and the strengthening or allaying of a
previous emotion or passion; and in persuasion, we either

THEME OF DI:SCO Ufl SE .

43

move to a 'new choice or dissuade from an existing intention
or purpose.

§ 5G. The unity of a discourse is more narrowly
determined by lite singleness of the object w hich is.
pursued in the development of a subject.
In order to u nity, there must indeed be a single theme or
subj ect of discourse,(§ 47). Singleness of subject will no t,
however, of itself secure unity. It is fur ther necessary that
there be one leading object proposed to be eITected, and that
this object be steadily pursued throughout the discourse.

§ 57. The several processes of explanat ion, conv iction, excitation, and persuasion, are so related to each
other that, while they may a ll. concur in the same discourse, they yet can follow only in one single order.
E x planation precedes conviction, as the truth must
be understood before it can be believed ; explanation
and conviction naturally precede excitation, as the
object of feeling must be perceived a nd generaliy be
believed to exist before feeling can be awakened ; and
pers uasion properly follo ws the other three processes,
as in order to a change of \vill, the feelings a re generally to be aroused, the judgment convinced, and the
understanding informed.
Unity requires th11t this order never be re versed; except
for the purp ose of awakening attention, or disposing for
emotion, as will be more particularly remarked hereufler.

§ 58. 'l'he work of invention can never proceed
with ease or success unless unity is strictly obscrvedunless the single subject and the single object of the
discourse be clearly apprehended, and that object be
steadily and undeviatingly pursued.

44
,: '

INVENTIO!ll.

No principle of invention is more fundamental or practically important than this. Unity in aim is the very life of
invention. Unless the object of speaking be distinctly perceived and that object be strictly one, the inventive facnlty
has no foothold at all, or, nt least, no sure standing; and all
its operations must be unsteady and feeble. The first work
in producing discourse is to obtain a clear view of the single
subject which is to be discussed, and then of the one object
which is to be attained by the discussion.
It is here, more than any where else, that young writers
fail. They give themsehes to writing with no definite
apprehension of the single object for which they write, except perhaps, it be to fill a sheet with words-briUiant if it
may be, at all events with words. Having no object in
view, the mi nd has no spring or impulse in the labor, and
the task is the most repulsive drudgery. \Vhat can be more
so than to accumulate dead words-dead because entertaining no Ii ving thought that w_ith its one life animates them,
and to cement them together by the lifeless rules of grammar? It is its object or aim whic~/gives discourse its life;
and as no one thing can have two "Jives in itself, there can
be but one aim or object in one discourse. It is not in the
nature of man to labor without an aim. _Certainly the work
of invention, the high est and most proper work of man as a
rational being, cannot proceed happily without an aim dist_inctl y apprehended.
This then is the first thing to be done in tlie construction
of discourse, after the selection of the theme at least, to determine definitely what is the particular object of the discourse:-is the object to explain a subject; to convince of
its truth; to excitt! the feelings in relation to it; or to move
to action upon it? This principle cannot be too earnestly
inculcated, or too faithfully obsened.

PAllTS OF DfSCOUllSE.
As these several acts of explanation, conviction, excitation, and persuasion may proceed each by several di~tinct
specific processes, it will of course facilitate invention to
determine, previously to the construction of a discourse, the
particular process which the case may require.

§ 59. Inasmuch as the development of the general
theme is determined by the particular object of the
discourse, the four processes, by one or other of which
this object must be accompli shed, viz : those of explanation, confirmation, excitation, ancl persuasion, constitute the distinct departments of Rhetoriwl Irn·ention.

CHAPTER III.
OF THE PARTS OF

A

DISCOURSE.

§ 60. The development of a theme of discourse fmthe purpose of explanation, conviction, excitaiion, and
persuasion, n ecessarily proceeds by stages, which, in
reference to the particular object at the time, may be
A discourse may
distinguished from each other.
thus be conveniently regarded as consisting of parts;
some of which are essential to all discourse and others
subsidiary or essential only in particular cases.
§ Gl. The essential parts of discourse are the PROPOSITION and the DIS CUSS ION.

§ 62. TnE PROPOSITION is the particular subject .
as modified ap~ ;<le~~,1;mi~1eq by the object of the discourse.

46

•·..-_f.

~ ~.:

I.
I' ~
i

•.

INVENTION.

The term "proposition," it should be observed, is here
used in a sense different from that of the term "theme."
The proposition is the theme as determined by the object or
end of the discourse. For example, the theme, "the im·
mutability of truth"' may be variously discussed in _reference
to various specific objects. The design of the discussion
may be to explain what is meant by the phrase; or, it may
•be to prove the statement that "truth is immutabl e;" or to
awaken confidence in u.11 truth ns being in its nature immutable; or to move to zealous effort to acquire tn:th because
immutable.
A rh etorical proposition includes thus the
theme and the particular design for which it is discussed.
One formal mode of stating the proposition in actual discourse would be as follows : "The object of this discourse is
to prove the immutability of truth."
A rhetorical proposition is carefully to be distinguished
from a logical proposition. The latter may be defined to be
"the verbal statement of ct judgment." A logical proposition, accordingly, may constitute the theme or a rhetorical
proposition. If this theme be stated together with the use
to be made of _it in discourse, it will then become a rhetorical proposition.

§ 63. THE nrscussrnN is that part of a discourse
in which the subject is unfolded and directly presented
to the mind addressed for one of the purposes that
have been named.
The . diEcussion is accordingly the .main thing in all dis•
course, and constitutes its body. The proposition sets forth
the design of the speaker; and the other parts are merely
preparatory and subsidiary to this main design which is
.directly pursued in the discussion.

§ 64.

The general forms of the discussion are do-

l'AR'l'S OF DISCOU!lSB.

47

tcrmined by the object of the discourse, and are four
in number corresponding to the four main objects that
may be aimed at in discourse, 9 54..

§ 65. The more specific forms of the discussion are
determined by the particular processes in which explanation, conviction, excitation, and persuasion arc
respectively carried on .
§ 66. The subsidiary parts of discourse a re either
preparatory, or applicatory; and may in general
terms be denominated THE INTRODUCTlON ::i-nd THE
PERORATION.

§ 67. The design and use of THE INTRODUCTION
is to prepare the way in the mind addressed for the
more re;idy ;ind free reception of the propo:;ition ::uid
the discussion.
§ 68. As it is obvious that the mind addressed may
be favorably or unfavorably <li:;puseu fur tlie reception
of the proposition and the discussion, either in respect
to the degree or kind of inform ation it possesses, or its
state of opinion, of feeling or of purpose, the introduction must, in different cases, be prepared in reference to these diverse states of mind.
The two more generic kinds of introduction will be,
accordingly, the Explanatory and the Conciliatory
introduction.
In the former, the object of the introduction will be
effected by informing more fully the minds of the
hearers; in the latter, by removing prejudice or by enlisting dire~tly a favorable interest.
It is obvious, m_o~9over, that these states of miml may

48

INVENTION .

.

respectively regard different objects, as the speaker or the
subject it.self. Hence will be determined the still more specific forms of the introduction.
The consideration of the particular kinds of introduction
and the laws of its use has, for obvious reaso ns, its appropriate place under the several general heads of Invention.

§ 69. As the Introduction is only a subsidiary and
a preparatory part of a discourse, the topics which it
must embrace and the form in which it should appear
cannot be fully kn own until the nature and form of
the proposition and of the discussion are well ascertained by the speaker. H ence, th e proper time for the
invention and the composition of the Introduction is
after the subject has been thoroughly studied out, and
the general form of the discussion well settled in the
mind.
It would obviously be as absurd in a writer to construct
an Introduction before the plan of the discourse is determined upon, as it would be in an architect to put np a portico before he had determined what kind of a house to
attach to it. That this absurdity is fr equently committed in
writing an<l in architecture, only shows the necessity of calling particular attention to it. There is no one feature of theIntroduction which may not receive its determinate character from the proposition and the discussion. The length,
the matter, including both the thought and the feeling, and
the style cannot be known till ,the plan,.of _.the discussion is
·fully determined upon. :
,
By this it is not meant that the discussion should be written out or red uced to forms of language; but merely that '
the whole plan of the discussion be distinctly conceived in ·
the .mind, before the Introduction is'composed.
-·

PARTS OF DISCOURSE.

49

The necessity of thus first studying out ancl. accurately
determining in the mind the plan of the discussion before
the Introduction is commenced, appears not only from the
fact that unless this be the case it is all a matter of mere
accident whether there be any correspondence between it
and I.he body of the discourse, but also from the consideration that it is only thus that unity, in which lies all the life
of inven.tion as well as of discourse, can be secured. The
very idea of a discourse, as a product of a rational mind
that ever has an aim in its proper workings, involv es the
necessity of unity; and this unity appears in discourse
mainly in the proposition and the discussion as the essential
parts. The clear perceptjon of w!.at is needed to be effected
in the mind addressed by way of preparation, in order that
this aim of the discourse can be attained in it, is absolutely indispensable both to guide invention in constructing
the Introduction and to stimulate it so that its work shall
be easy and successful.

§ 70. Trrn PERORATION, as that part of a discourse
in which the theme i.s applied, will vary with the
different specific objects aimed at in the application.
Sometimes the application will be in the form of
explanation, .either for the purpose of correcting erroneous views or for further instruction. This form of
the peroration may be denominated the e,vplanatory.
Sometimes the object of the peroration may be to
correct a wrong opinion, or to confirm a pa rticular truth
involved in the general theme; in which case the per·
oration wiH be confirmatory.
Sometimes the obj ect may be to address the subject
more directly to the feelings, which will give rise to
the excitatory or pathetfr peroration.
.

5

50

',

IN'VG~TION:

,

Or, once more, some· action may be proposed, in the
peror~tion, to the mind addressed, and then the persuasive peroration will have place.

§ 71. THE RECAPITULATION is a form of peroration common to the various objects mentioned. The
respective processes of explanation, conviction, excitation, or of persuasion pursued in t he discourse are, in
this form, concisely repeated for .the purpose of a more
full and complete effect.
.

,_t,""f.

PART !.--EXPLANATION.

CHAPTER I .
••·

~.

.. - .

'.

(

"1'

GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

)

•

: I

•.

1,

• .' ~ i.

§ 72. In explanation, the object. of discourse is to
inform or instruct; in other and more technical words,
to lead to a n ew conception or notion, or to modify
one already existing in the mind.
§ 73. The work of explanation is accomplished
simply by bringing the object of the conception distinctly and favorably before the mind addressed.
§ 74. Although explanation, properly, is a purely
intellectual process, since it aims merely to produce or
modify a conception or notion which is a pure intellectual state, still as the understanding itself is influenced by the feelings and the state of the will, reference to these departments of mind is not wholly excluded from explanatory discourse. The passions are,
however, to be employed only in strict subordination
to the design of the discourse ; tha t is, only for the
purpose of facilitating the process of explanation.
. This is . ~one chiefly or , wholly .by secµring an undisturbed attention ~q the ohjec.t presented.

52

EXPLANATION.

Hence the necessity that the faste be consulted in all
explanatory discourse; in order that a fixed attention may
be secured. The mind does not perceive well when it is not
pleased. Xenophon has well observed that instruction in
any case is impossible from one who does not please.-11
The attention of the hearer may be disturbed, also, by
the existence of some fovorite opinion which may be unfavorably affected by the object prese nted in the discourse;
and argumentation may be necessary as a preparatory work
ev en for the purpose of explaining a truth.
So, like wise, the attention may be disturbed by some
fe eling or purpose in the mind addressed, which must be
appropriately managed by the speaker who would secure
attention to his explanation.
These processes, however, are not essential, but merely
incidental in explanatory discoUTse. It is sufficient, therefore, here merely to indicate generally the relation of this
to the other processes in discourse.

§ 75. 'The subject or theme of explanatory dis_course is some obj ect or truth to be perceived.
The state of mind to be produced by explanation, ·as has
been before observecl, is a conception. The term is used in
a strictly technical se nse, as disting uished from u judgment.
As it is important that the meaning of these logical terms
should be clearly apprehended, the following definitions will
not be out of place here. A Conception is that state of the
understanding in which an object ·or truth is simply perceived, without any affirmation 'or denial respecting it. A
judgment, on the other hand, is that intellectual state in
which an object or truth is not only perceived, hut some
-11 Mem. Lib. I. C. II.,
<ai51)f;iv t;(Cl..~CI..

§ 39.

iroU fl·11 J.g~ S-/.OV!iOf'.

INTl{ODUCTOHY

vrnw.

53

affirmation or denial is inade respecting it. When I perceive" a tree," I ha1·e a conception of it. When I affirm
"it is an apple-tree," I ha1•e a judgment respecting it.
A logical proposition, in the proper sense, that is, a sentence which expresses a judgment may, nevertheless, be
viewed simply as an object of conception. As when it is
said "Law is a rule of action," although the sentence
contains a judgment or affirmation, still the mind may regard it merely as a thing to be perceived or understood and
not as that on which a judgment is to be formed. Logical
propositions, thus, as well as mere names of things, may
form proper subjects of explanaticn; since they may be
regarded merely as conceptions.
~It may be furth er remarked that the object which constitutes the theme of explanation is not necessarily any real
object or truth; but only one as so regarded by the writer.
It may be a purely imaginary object not supposed by him
to have any foundation in reality; or it may be an erroneous
conception in his mind of a real obj ect or truth; or, farther,
it may be a conception found ed on reality but modified
through the influences of his peculiar habits of observation.
E xplanation is, in this r espect of its subj ect or theme,
distinguished from conviction. In explanation, the subject
is ever an object of a conception. In conviction, it is ever
a judgm ent.

§ 76. The unity of explanatory discourse, so far as
it is determmed by the theme, requires that the conception which forms the theme, be one. This one
conception, however, may be simple or complex; may
embrace but one individual or a cl ass.
In order to insure thi's broader unity the writer should
ever 'carefully see whether the particular topics which he is
5""

54

"

j.ol·•

INTHODUCTORY VIEW.

EX PLAN.\ TION.

to treat of cnn be embraced in one complex conception. If
not, he has reason to suspect that unity will he sacrificed.
If he is unable to reduce the specific topics of his discourse
under a single class, he will be in danger of violating unity.
It must not he supposed, however, that because the proposition as stated includes two or more topics, for that reason
alone, unity must necessarily be sacrificed. Thus, the subject of an essay may be · "the causes and effects of the
Crusades."
This theme, although, as stated, it embraces
more than one topic, may be discussed with a perfect observance of unity. The crusades, as a single class of events,
may be presented concretely in their historical relations, that
is, in the single relation of time, or abstractly under the
single causal relation to antecedent nnd subsequent ~vents.

. § 77. The particular processes by which the expla-

nation of an object or truth may be effected, are five in
number, viz: NARRATION, DESCR IPTION, ANALYSIS,
ExEMPLIFI CATIOl\', and Co111PARISON or CONTRAST.
All objects, even such as are purely abstract or spiritual,
as representecl_in discourse, must be contemplated under th e
relations either of time or of space. Hence, the original
and proper processes of explanation are but two in number;
one, in which the object is vie1Ved under the relations
of time, the other, in which it is regarded under the relations
of ~pnce.
But an object viewed in its relations to time may also be
·contemplated in its relations to its own parts or to other ohjects 'of the same class. And an object existing in space
may bt> represented by a designation of the adjoining parts.
Thus, the mammoth, an extinct species of animals, may be
represented either under the idea of time, giving rise to
cla~sificalion by the indication of its varieties, or under the

55

idea of space, by the indication of its component parts, as
head, body, limbs, &c.
Or, again, it may be represented by the exhibition of one
of the species taken as an example. The account of _the
mammoth found entire in a frozen state by a Tungusrnn,
named Schumachoff, in 1799, furni shes thus the best representation of this extinct species of the Elephant.
Or, farther, the object may be designated through its relations to other individuals of the same class. 'Ve represent,
thus, by comparing objects through the points of resemblance
or by contrasting them through the points of diversity or opposition.
vVe have thus the five different processes of explanation
'

enumerated, viz:
l. Narration, when the object viewed as a whole, is
represented in continuous time or as in succession;
2. Description, when the object, viewed as a whole, is
represented in space generally;
_ _
3. Analysis, when the object is regarded as consisting of
parts related either to time or to space '.
4. Exemplification, when the ob3ect is re~arded ~s
o-eneric includincr species or individuals under it, and is
t:>
'
t:>
represented through one of the class; and . .
5. Comparison and Contrast, when the ob3ect is.regarded
as belonging to a class, and is represented through its resemblance or opposition to others of the same class.

§ 78. '\¥'hile these processes may all ,be combined
in certain cases in the same discourse, they are yet
easily distinguishable. They may in some cases,
each constitute the single and only process of ex:planati~n. - They are, also, subject to entirely different
principles regulating the use of them in cllscourso.

5G

EXPLANATION'.

NARRATION.

Hence the propriety and utility of considering them
distinctly.
_

CHAPTER II.

As has been befor e observed, every art embraces diverse
particular processes, all of which, in the more complicated
forms of the art, are carried on simultaneously together. In
the acquisitio:i of the art, however, these processes are
analys_ed, and studied and exemplified in practice separately
and ~rngly. An extended arithmetical p1 ocess generally
combrnes the varic.us particular processes of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, if not various other
higher processes. In acquiring the art, however, the attent~on of the learner is advantageously directed to these particular processes singly and successively. Each is studied
and exercised upon, before the next is taken up. vVben
ea ch several process is thus made familiar by separate and
c_outinued study and exercise, the more complicated operations are perform ed 1\,ith ease and success. It i:s so with
. every art. So self-evident, indeed, is this principle that
nothing but the fact of the strange neglect and oversight of
it in the art of constructing discourse could justify a repeated
reference to it in vindication of the course that is 11ere
proposed. The learne r cannot be too earnestly or too fr equently reminded of the necessity of studying and exercising
upon each particular process in discourse separately; and of
continuing his study and practice upon each in order, until
a perfect practical familiarity with it is acquired.

57

OF NARRATION.

§ 79. NARRATION is that process of explanation
which presents an object in its relations to continuous
time.
Strictly speaking, narration proper presents an object only
in th e several successive forms which it assumes at successive periods of time. History, in which only the chain ~f
events is exhibited, affords one of the most perfect exemplifi cations of pure narration.
The human mind, however, in its maturer development,
can hardly avoid, when it contemplates events transpiring
in succession, conceiving. or" ·a
which binds those
events to""ether. The operation of a cause, moreover, we
ever rcpr:sent to ourselves as taking place .in _succession of
time. Cause is thus the law · or internal pnnc1ple of succession; and succession of events is the outward manifestation

cause

. .
of the operation of that law.
This relation of cause to the succession of events m !Jlne,
shows at once the philosophical propriety of regard i~g _the
relation of cause and effect as the true governing pnnc1ple
·
t"
It determines , at the same time, the proper
1 n narra ion.
subjects of narrative discourse and the laws which regulate
~

(
It will be convenient to exhibit the specific processes o
narration, according as they include distinctly or not the
idea of a cause-in other words, regard mere outward succession or not-separately and successivefy.

§ 80. The simplest process in ~arration consists. in
the exhibition of an .object in the diiforent forms which
,._/

58

EXPLANATION.

it presents in successive periods of time without distinct reference to the connecting causes.

§ 81. The principle of arrangement in this process
is simple succession of time.
In all simple narration, the explanation is effected by the
exhibition of the object represented in the successil'e
changes. We cannot exhibit the object as literally changing; we can only assume different points of time and mark
th e particular phascJ the object presents o.t those points respectively, and leav e it to the mind of th e hearer to fill up
the intervening period and imagine the actual progress of
the change from one aspect or phase to another.
- As it is possible in discourse, thus, only to present the
object at successive stages, pas~ing over the intermediate
intervals, judgmen t i8 necessary in the selection of those
phases of the object which are most important. Jn the history of a nation, the most important changes in the direction of its exertions, whether abroad-as in wars, or towards
its internal affairs as in the modifications of its government
and the cultivation of the various arts, may, thus, be selected
as the points to be exhibited to view.
. Still the order of tim e furni shes the law- of arrangement.
vVhen the continuity of succession is broken, the mind of
the reader is liable to be offended; and his interest is at
once weakened. This truth is -illustrated in the wearisom e
effect of those treatises on general history, whioh take us,
in successive chapters, to different countries, and thus are
,ever interrupting the continl!ous succession of events.

§ 82. The simple process of narration is at once
rcntlcrcd complex by the distinct exhibition of the
relation of cause and effect in the events described.
In this process rnor.- ripeness of judgment, greater skill
I'
I

NARllA'I'JON.

59

and power of discernment, in short, a higher maturity and
wider r each of intellect are requisite. The child, 111 his
narrations, can give only the events as th ey occurred to liis
view with hardly any reference to a cause that connects
them. The more important he makes no more prominent
than the less. Although the circumstance that he is offended
and loses his interest in the narration, when the order of
time is disregarded, shows that the idea of cause secretly
influences him, still the idea is so little developed that it
exerts little control over him when he himself narrates to
others. The maturer mind takes no interest in a chain of
mere events, but as the connecting cause is seen. The detedion of this cause and the_clear exhibition of it to view,
at once, determines th e rank_ of his intellect and th e correctness of his idea. of a pro.per history, in th e historian.
'
In confirmation of this view, it may be observed here,
that the more philosophical idea of a history is the product
only of a highly advanced state of society. Th e ea rly historians, beautiful and rich as they are in sty le, are yet
greatly defective in this respect. They confine theinseh- es
mainly to the simple exhibition of the sequences of events.
So far as invention is concerned, they display but little
power except in the mere selection of the events. Such are
the histories of Herodotus, Livy, and indeed, most of the
histories that have been written. Truly philosophical l1istories are the production of the most recent times.

§ 83. The principle of arrangement in this process of narration is furnished in the relation of cause
and effect.
Here the causal relation is every thing. Even succession
in time is fr eely sacrificed to it when necessary. As various
causes frequently conspire to produce a single effect, it be-

60

E.XPLAN A Tl ON.
NAllllATJON.

comes necessary often to trace in the order of succession
the operation of one cause after another; going back in
time repeatedly to exhibit the different chains of causes
from their origin. In the determination of the place for the
introduction of each particular topic or event, the writer
should carefully deliberate with himself, how the causal
connection in the events will be most clearly presented to
view, since in this is found the sole determining principle of
arrrangement and law of development.

§ 8.1. 'I'he process of narration is applied not only
to outward events represented in simple succession of
time, § 80, or in the light of the causal relatio11 § 82
' as'
but also to all such abstract and spiritual subjects
may be conceived of under the idea of succession or
the relation of .cause and effect.
·
\Ve have, in this class of narrative subjects, a subdivision
corresponding to that which has been pointed out in respect
to such as are merely outward or sensible. All abstract
things. or object~ which may be regarded as becoming,
.c ltangzng, growing, and the. like, while th ey, and they only,
constitute proper subjects of narrafrre discourse, may, also,
be represented either in their successive stages or chano-es
•
•
0
,
or m connect10n with th e cause that connects them.
In the former case, the principle of arrangement an<l,
indeed, the genernl law of development of the theme is
furnished in the order of succession in time. In the latter
case, it is furnished in the relation of cause and effect.
Instan~es of this class of subjects are "the spread of
Idolatry rn the world," "the progress of vice in the heart"
"the development of taste," and the like.
'

. It is .obvim'.s that all such subjects may be represented
either sunply m respect to the successive forms th.it may btJ

61

assumed by the object or thing to be represente<l, or in unison with the cause of those rno<lifi cations or in dependence
upon it.
In this class of subjects, a still higher tact and skill is
requisite in the selection of thos e particular stages in th e
progress of the obj ect represented which shall most happily
exhibit to th e reader th e actual progress, than is necessary in
the narration of merely outw ar d e1·ents. I t is not with
much difficulty that the naturalist seizes up on those stages of
vegetable growth which shall give a clear i<lea of !he entire
continuous process. Although the tree is ever growing and
the eye can no t trace momently th e actual change that is
_going on, still the representation of th e seed, th e germinating state, the woody stage, the conditiou of <l ecay; or of
the periodical changes, the ;s~ent of tli e sap, th e periods of
foliage, of flow ering, of fruit and the lik e, is e;:u;y bernui;e
the successive stages or con<litions of growth are definitely
marked to the ~ye. In abstract subj ects, however, these
successive stages are with difficulty <liscovered; and the
mere repres entation of the successive dev elopment of a vice,
a virtue, a mental habit of any kin<l, in respect to tim e
alone, demands nice discernment and soun<l judgm ent.
'Vhen the causal influence is conjoined with this, the difficulty becomes still greater. For the causes that influence
he re are not only multiform, but are, also, not easy of detection. Their infl uence is silent and l1i<lden. H ence, histories
of the progress of civilization, of th e progress of science,
of opinion in e1·ery fi eld of know ledge, .-ippcar only in the
more mature developm ents of mind. Hence, too, moral
pai~ting, one variety of this species of narration, indicates
at once, when only free from obvious faults, the hand of a
master.

§ 85. The principles of narration apply in their full
6

62

•:

'

'

t\'Al:flATION'.

forc.e only where the object of the discourse is explanation under the form of succession 01· the relation of
cause and effect; they lrnve an application, however,
where narrative is introduced in other forms of discourse, but in subordination to the particular principles
that govern in them.
In argumentation, thus, narrative is often necessary. So
far as it is narrative, the principles that hav e been set forth
in this ~h~pter apply. But the narrative is introduced only
as subsidiary to another object, viz : conviction.
The
modification r eq uisite in such particular us es of narrative
will, however, be obvious; and needs no distinct illustration
here.

It may be farther remarked, here, that narration i;· often
mingled with description and other processes of explanation.
So far as it is narrative, howe~er, it observes its own laws.

§ 86. THE LAW

UNITY in narration becomes
i:iore pr~cisely determined and restricted by the particular view that is taken of the theme, whether it is
regarded as merely subject to a succession of changes
or whether the causal r:elation is exhibited.
In the former case, unity is preserved if the one
object of the discourse be the only thing presented,
and be presented only as subject to a continuous succession of cha nges.
OF

In the latter case, the principle of unity may lie in
the single cause whose operation ·is traced out in its
successive effects; or in the development of the single
effect from the combined operation of the several
causes.
It will be observed that the simplicity or complexity of

63

the theme will not affect the unity. The theme may be the
life or the transaction of an individual; tlie history of a
community or nation through the whole or particular stages
of its existence; it may be a cause producing its effects on
a single individual, a community or . state or the race generally, through greater or less periods of time; it may be an
effect experienced over the world as that of th e christianization of th e earth, or of a single continent, as th e civilization
of Europe, or of an individual, as the moral greatness of
Howard.
Farther, as the highest and ultimate aim in all human
action is a moral· one, and as all discourse has an ultimate
end which is moral in its character, although in narration
the commanding encl is the information of the understanding and thus purely intellectual, still it cannot be regarded
' as a violation of unity if incidentally the truths thus brought
before th e understanding be applied to a moral end. The
historian, thus, by uo means infringes on the law of unity,
when he breaks from the strict course of his narration to
apply th e moral lessons which his narration teaches. This,
however, in all proper narration, must never appear as the
immediate a nd commanding, or e1·en as a co-ordinate aim.
If the inculcation of a moral lesson be made the controlling
end, the discourse loses its proper character a~ narration.
It then obeys other laws, and narration acts only a subordinute part.

§ 87. CoMPLETENEss, in simple narration, requires
that the theme be presented in all those phases or
changes of the event which are nece:;:sary to give to
the mind addressed a full conception of its progress to
its termination.
In c~mplex narration,
c?mplcteness requires that
-:..... .

EXPLAN;\ TIO:V.

the cause in its entire efficiency be exhibited and in
reference to the entire series of events which it occa-sions.

CHAPTER III.
OF DE SCR IPTION .

. § 8~.

D ESCRIP Tros

is that process of explanation

1~ which the object is represented, m ediately or immediately, under the rela tions of space.

§ 89. The sulJjec ts appropriate to this species of discourse
arc either external or sensible obl.J·ects existinrr
.
0
zn space, or sucl1 abstract and spiritual objects a~ are
conceived of under relations analogous to those of
space.
In truth, description embraces all subjects proper to be
presented as themes for explanation which are not embraced
under narration; in other words, all such as are not re o-arded
under the relations of time, as subject to succession "or the
infi uence of a cause.
In description, th e subject is, thus, represented not a 9

•'
I

becoming, as beginning to be, g ro wi11g, advancing; but
only as being, entirely irrespectively of time. Ev en events
may be proper subjects of description where their relations
to time or to a cause are dr~pped from view. Thus the
c_onflagration of a city may be the prop~r th eme of descript10n when the aim of the writer is to set it forth as an object of contemplation in its several features of horror·
when not the progress of tlir flam es a!ld the successi re ar-'

. DESCRIPTION.

65

pearances which the burning city ass um es, but the ~everal
constituent elements of the scene, as th e dismay of the inhabitauts, th e terrific rava ges of the flam es, the crashing of
walls, and the like, are th e particular obj ects of the representation.
This illustration "ill serve to show how closely connected
are the processes of narration a nd descripti on. Th ey perhaps more co mm only tire found combiuecl in the sam e discourse, just as multiplication and di 1·ision are ofte n combined in th e same arithmetical process. Still they a re essentially distinct processes ; and must be go verned by \·ery
diF.erent principles. Eren when combined, it is indispensable to the perfectness of the represen ta tion that one be
made tJ. e predominant _ a nd_ co!1trolling p rocess, and the
oth er be kept in strict subordination and subse rriency; that
the laws of the one or the other be made the directing principles in th e development and arr1ngement.
The essential nature of tl]is process of explana ti on is exemplifi ed in the case of the description of any particular
object that appears to th e ~enses . If a fi eld, thus, were
to be d esc~ib ed, a point of view would first be selected the
most favorable for prese nting the whole distinctly and fully;
and th en fr om this point of view the various outlin es and
boundaries, as they might be traced from some one point
easily d istinguished a nd rem embered around the whole circumference to the place of commencement, would be delineated. In this way the exact spacial dimensions and rela tions
of the fi eld would be clea rly a nd exactly pointed out.

§ 90. The principle of arrangement in this process
is simple JUXTA-POSITlON.
§ 91. Hence in description, the attention is first directed to :;om~ _one prominent point in the theme and
6"

.

-'.:.

66

EXI'LANA'rION.

then the view is directed successively from point to .
point along the entire line.
·'

In some cases, it will be sufficient merely to trace the outline. Generally, however, the filling up of this outline will
be necessary to a clear and vivid representation. In all
cases, however, the theme is conceived of as mapped out
before the mind; and the description must set forth the exact outlines and so much of the con ten ts as shall be necessary to the object of the explanation. The principle of
method-juxta-position-forbids any such leaps in the continuous representation of the object as would prevent the
hearer from perceiving the entire boundary of the survey.
This is the great essential thing in description, that the view
given be continuous. Here, however, as in narration, § 81,
only points here and there can be taken which the hearer
must connect by running the line~ as it were, in his own
mind. The speaker mu~ take such points as are sufficiently
vicinous-near each other to enable him to do this.
Description, in its strictes.t use, is confined to the delineation of the theme conceived as a whole. But the simple
tracing of the outlines of an object will seldom answer the
aim of the discourse. The process by which the filling up
of the outline is accomplished, is, however, essentially distinct from that of pure description. It is, ind eed, different
in different cases; and will be particularly considered under
the following chapters.
The delineation of a sensible object existing in space is
sufficiently intelligible without further explanation. The
delineation of ati abstract or spiritual the~e is more obscure, perhaps, hut perfectly analogous. The more proper
form of it is definition, of which Blackstone's definition of
Municipal law will afford a happy illustration. "Law," he
says, "is a rule of cidl conduct prescribed by the supreme

DESCIUI'TJON •

67

power of a state commanding what is right and prohibiting
what is wrong." These more general boundaries, traced
out more fully and completely, make up his explanation of
Municipal Law.

§ 92. Unity in pure description requires not only
that one object be exhibited as the sole thing in the
representation, but also that the point of view from
which the theme is regarded, be maintained throughout the representation; or at least, that the reader be
sufficiently advised of the change in the point of view.
Such change can be justified only when necessary to
the completeness of the view.
It is obvious that sometimes it may be necessary to survey an object from different points in order to obtain a com' plete view of the whole. In that case, however, care should
be taken that the entire survey be one; the outlines all harmonizing with one another. Unity thus would have been
at once violated, if into the definition of law ~iv e n above
there had been introduced any view of its relations to other
things, of its particular departments, of its actual forms
in different nations, or the like ; as for illustration, if the
definition had been constructed thus; "Law is a rule of
civil conduct, prescribed by the supreme power of a State
commanding what is right and prohibiting what is wrong
and is made in the nature of things obligatory on all the
subjects of the State." Another view is now presented
which it is impossible for the mind to conceive of as forming
a constituent part in the same picture with the parts before
indicated.
Iu the case of the description of sensible objects, the
learner will expe;ience-. l ~ttle difficulty in acquiring the habit
Qf representing tJ_.his own mind the entire oc:tline of the

DF.SCRIPTJ0:-1.

EXPLANATJOX.

object to be described. He should carefully accustom himself to this mode of picturing before his own mind such
objects; and before entering upon th e work of composition
he should follow round the outline of the picture till he becomes familiar with ils entire contour and satisfy himself
that every feature to be given is em braced in the view from
n single point.
- In the case of abstract objects and truths, a higher power
of abstraction and a higher exertion of the imagination is
requisite. Still it lies within the capabil;ties of the mind to
acquire the power of picturing before itself even abstract
objects; of placing their outlines in proper order of juxtaposition in a single mental picture. This is the actual attainment of an accomplished writer. It is the aim which
every student of rhetoric should propose to himself and
steadily pursue in continued and laborious practice till he is
conscious of having fully achieved his object.
It may as~ist the full apprehension of what is meant by
this mental picturing, to present the following illustration
from Dr. Barrow's description of "contentedness." He
describes this quality chiefly by its ' acts.' In other words,
the "acts" in which the practice of the virtue consists
furnish the point of observation from which he views it.
And the point of departure in tracing his mental survey is
one of, the exercises of the understanding. This class of exercises constitute one outline of the feature. A second side is
then run consisting of the exercises of the will or appetite.
And the third side complet!ng the view is the outward demeanor. The particulars which fill up this general survey
are on the first side, or acts of the understanding, 1. a belief
that all events are ordered by God; 2. that they are consequently good und fit; 3. that they are conducive to our particular welfare; 4. that our present condition, all things

69

considered, is the best for us. On the second side, or the
exercises •Jf the will or inclination, are the particulars of 1.
submission to the will of God; 2. calmness and composedness; 3. cheerfulness in bearing the worst events; 4. hope
of the timely removal or alleviation of affiiction; 5. yielding
to no faintness or languishing; 6. endeavors against becoming weary of our condition; 7. meekness and pliancy
of temper; 8. kindness; 9. fr eedom from solicitude and
anxiety.
On the third side, or particLilars of outward
practice and endeavor, are 1. suppression of unseemly expression:>; 2. forb earing compl<iint or murmuring; 3. declarations of satisfaction with the allotments of provi<lence; 4.
abstaining from improper· attempts to remo1·e or remedy our
crosses; 5. discliarge of our duti es with alacrity ; 6. fair
and kind behavior towards the- instruments or abettors of
our adversity. This description, it will be remarked, is susceptible of being pictured us a single although complex
object before the mind. It has unity; it has method; it has
completeness.

§ 93. It is essential to the completeness of the description that the survey of the object be also complete;
that no side, as it \Vere, of the field, be left out of
view, or be imperfectly represented.
In the definition given of Municipal Law from Blackstone, if any part, as for instance, the phrase, "prescribed
by the supreme power of a state," or, "forbidding what is
wrong," had been omitted, the description would have been
incomplete. One side of the survey would have been
omitted.

70

EXPLANATION.

CHAPTER IV.

ANALYSIS •
. • :i:

OF ANALYSIS.

§ 94. THE ANALYTIC PROCESS of explanation
consists in the resolving or separating of the theme
into its component parts and the successive enumeration of these parts.
§ 95. THE SUBJECTS appropriate to this process are
all themes which can be regarded as composed of
parts. Both events and operations of causes, as well
as objects conceived of under the relations of space or
irrespectively of time, provided they may be regarded
as consisting of parts, are accordingly embraced in the
themes appropriate to this process.
This process differs essentially from narration and description in this respect, that in the two latter processes, the
object whether regarded in time or space, is viewed as one
undivided whole; while in analysis it is viewed in its parts.
In regard to outward sensible objects the distinction is generally wide and' obvious. In the discussion of abstract
or spiritual themes, the processes will often be the same
whether regulated by the laws of narration or division; of
description or partition.

§ 96. Analysis is frequently combined with the processes of narration and description in the same discourse. It is, however, distinct from them for the most
part, and precedes those processes, observing its own
laws. The theme is thus first analysed; and then the
processes of narration and description are applied to
the parts as they are successively presented ; or if it
occur in the course of the narration or description 1 it

71

is applied to some subordinate part of the explanation
which is then, under this analysis, narrated or described. The particular parts are n arrated or described, moreover, in an:-ilysis, in reference to the entire
effect of the representation of the one theme analysed;
and not exactly as they would be narrated or described
if represented separately and for their own sake.
The explanation of the theme may be, to a certain degree,
_complete even when the process stops with the analysis and
enumeration of the parts. The anatomist may thus properly regard his work as completed, if he analyse the body
into its constituent parts, and then exhibit tlie parts one by
one in order. He may, however,.· carry the explanation still
farther.
He may de scribe singly each part as it is
pre~nted to view in a process of pure description.
Or
again, as a physiologist, he may nar~·at e the development
and growth of each particular part presented.
He must, however, first analyse; and his description or
narration of each particular part must, obviously, be made
in reference to the combined effect of the whole explanation.
Otherwise he would nut only fall into useless an<l tedious
repetitions, but his ex planation would be multiform, irregular and out of proportion. It would rather be a collection
of independent and unrelated explanations than one continued and entire, although complex, process of explanation.

§ 97. Analysis embraces two distinct specific processes which rest ultimately on the distinctive natures
of narration and description. They are division and
partition.
§ 98. In DIVISION the theme is regarded as composed of si1i1.i lar parts__; and the analysis is into genera, species: varieties.

72

EXPLANATION.

ANALYS!S.

Thus the analytic explanation of the theme "animal" by
division would be effected by the successive enumeration of.
the different genera which it embraces, as fish, fowl, beast,
&c., or, if the process were carried farther, of the species
and varieties under these respective genera or classes.
The relation of di vision to narration is seen in this, that
both invol~e an ultim ate reference to a cause. Since that
simila;ity in different individuafs or species which enables
us to classify them into species or genera, we necessarily
regard as the effect of the same or a similar cause.

singleness of the class which is to be divided into its
species and varieties and in the singleness of the principle of division.

§ 99. In PARTITION, the theme is regarded as made
up of parts lying in juxta-position merely, without
reference to any similarity in their nature.
In partition, thus, "animal" would be analysed into
head, body, limbs, and the like. In this kind of analysis,
no reference is had to the similarity of structure in the
analysis; but merely to the juxta-position of the parts.
The affinity of this process to description is obvious from
the very terms which we find it necessary to employ in order
to explain it' Both processes regard objects in space. The
one, description, regards them as individual wholes, the
boundaries or outlines of which are to be marked out in
order to explain them. The other, partition, contemplates
them as filling a certain extent of space; and enumerates
successively the portions that occupy it. \ Ve describe "a
tree" by delineating its form and shape. In partition, it is
represented as composed of trunk and limbs and foliage; its
various shades and hues are exhibited. In description, the
object is represented by the lines that bound it-by its
periphery; in partition, by the parts that compose it-by
its segments.

§ 100. Tim

t::\'lTY IN

nrvrsroN consists in the .

73

{

J

That the theme must be but one whole to be divided is
too palpable a truth to need any proof or illustration. There
is little danger that this more genernl unity will be violated
by any one who has any conception whatever of unity in
discourse.
But mere unity in the theme, or in the general process of
explaining it is not enough. It is necessary in this process
of explication that there be but one principle of division;
that is, that the species into which the whole is divided all
stand in the same generic relation to the whole. Every generic or "common" term may be" distributed into diverse
series of species. "Man," thus, may be distributed into
one set of species in reference to color; into another, in
rnference to place of habitation or to lineage; into a third
in reference to sex or condition, &c. Unity forbids the
distribution into different sets of such species.
This, at least, is the strictest unity in division. If for
any purpose, it is necessary to represent the theme in respect
to several sets of species, that is, adopt more than one principle of division, the two divisions should be kept carefully
distinct; and the discourse must find its principle of unity
in some higher point than the division.
In abstract subjects, especially in the explication of truths
or propositions, there is a peculiar liability to a neglect of
unity in division. It becomes necessary in order to avoid
this fault to seize firmly the particular principle of division
that is adopted in the case and carefully inquir1;, in the
analysis into the several species, whether each one is determined by that . principle or belongs to that set of species
which the adopted p.rinciple of division will furnish.
7

74

· EXPLANATION.

ANALYSIS.

. It will be
. observed
. that
. .unity does not forbid ' ti 1e app 1·1cation of different principles to different grades of
·
"D f ,,
species.
u ies, may thus be classed, first, in reference to the
object to which they are rendered·, as to God , t o feJI ow-creature~, to ~ne's self; or religious, social, and personal. These
spe.:ies, further, may be divided in respect to the occasions
of .th.eir . performance or the powers concerned in them.
Reh~wus duties . may thus be subdivided into private and
public: .The object to which the duty is to be paid is here
t~e pnnc'.ple of division into the higher species; the occas10n. of its performance, that of division into the lower
s~ec1es. There is in such a division, evidently, no confus10n, and no Yiolation of unity.

§ 101.. CoMPLETENEss in division requires that all

th: ~pec1es o~ .v~rieties :vhich are furnished by the
pnnc1ple of d1v1swn be distinctly enumerated.
If thus in the enumeration of the varieties of mixed governments onl.y those of the monarchical and aristocratic,
the monarclucal and democratic, and the · aristocratic and
democratic were enumerated, the Spartan constitution and
those like it which em brace the features of all the three pure
forms of government would be om 1'tted • Th e c1·I VIS!On
·
would not be complete.

.
f

75

tions to it; the other parts should be arranged. In the enumeration of duties in reference to the object to which they
are rendered, those to God, are, thus, evidently of the highest rank. This class, therefore, will determine the mode of
arrangement in reference to . the order in which they should
be presented.
The object of the discourse, however, will determine
whether the most prominent or important part should be
made the first or the last of the series. If the writer wishes
to leave the mind of the reader peculiarly interested in one
particular part, even although it be the least important considered merely in relation to the parts themselves, it will
naturally be exhibited last in the series. In the example
given above, for instance, if .the obj ect of the speaker were
to leave the duties to God impressed most strongly on tl~
' mind, he would name this species last. If, on the other
hand, the personal duties were those to be more distinctly
impressed at the time, this species would occupy the last
place.
The relation of the parts to each other, thus, determines
the order of the series; the object of the discourse, whether
the order in which they shall be presented be direct or in-

verse.

§ 102. THJ;i PRINCIPLE OF ARRANGE1\1ENT in division lies in the relation of the species or varieti
.h
.
es
fiurms
ec1. m the division to each other and to th e par.
~cular object of the discourse.
·

§ 103. THE UNITY IN PARTITION consists in the
singleness of the object to be analysed, and, more narrowly, in the singleness of the point of view from
which the object is regarded.

. As the parts .sustain the same rel~tion to the whole, it

The same observations apply here as to description.
"\Vhile in order to unity there must be a single object, there
must, at the same time, be one point selected from which
the parts shall be exhibited to view.
The theme, even although abstract or spiritual, is here

clear, that we can find here no guide to :trrancrement.
Generali~ in d'. vision there will be found some ~ne species
or part which will rank first in importance, in interest, in
obviousness. A rournl ti m,
· in
· respect to their approximals

76

· AN.\LYSJS.

EXPLANATIO~.

In partition, the relations of th e par t s to each other will
be those of space or, in abstract and spiritual themes, s~ch
crous Thus in th"' enumeration of the constitu·
•
.
as are an alo "
.
cnt properties of " pr udence"
' the parts will be
. conce1 ved
of as pictured out before the eye and arranged m regard to
position according to the order of dependence, as wakefulness, -

regarded ~nder the analogy of the relations of space. It is
laid out 'as a field before the view. Thi> lines of partition
need to be run from one ·point, or there will be confusion
and perplexity.
If for any purpose different views of the object be needful, the first view should be completed, and th en advice be
given of the change of position. Still furtber, the different
~iews should be complements of ontJ another, so that all
taken together shall constitute one whole.
If "prudence" thus be taken as the them e of explanation by analysis, unity requires first, tliat the general view
to be given of it be determined, whether in reference to its
essential nature, its rank among the virtues, its importance
or some other particular aspect of it: in the next place, that
for this particular view, one point be chosen from ivhich the
survey shall be made, If the nature of prudence be the
more closely defined theme of the discussion, then it should
be viewed either from its constituent properties, .as wakefulness, observation, deliberation and the like; or from its
origin and development, as constitutional temperam ent, experience, discipline; or from its effects on personal happiness
or efficiency.

§ 104. COMPLETENESS in part1t10n requires a survey of the entire field which the theme occupies and
a distinct representation of every part.
A partition which should merely enumerate a part of the
constituent properties of "prudence" would thus be faulty
in respect of completeness . .

§ 105.

in partition, as in division, is to be found in the relations of
the parts to each other and to the particular object of
the discourse.
THE PRINCIPLE OF ARRANGEMENT

77.

observation, deliberation, &c.
.
.
Whether the series should be presented directly or mversely must be determined by the object of the discourse.

§ 106. From the very nature ~f. the. two. processe_s
nalysis by division and part1t10n, it will be ev1·
of a
'
,,
·e
dent that while only generic or "com~no~ . terms ar
.
. te subiects
for division, only md1v1dunl
te1ms
appropna
J
•
•
·t"t"
If
a
.
·
·
"term"
which
may
m
one
d
belong to par l wn.
aspect be correctly regarded as "common" be ana~yse
b partition it will nevertheless in the analysis be
vrewed only,as individual. This pri~ciple will, to a
. ex t en t , deter-mine the boundanes between the
certam
two classes of subjects.

f

All events, as they are individual although co~pl~x~ can
be analysed only by partition. So, likewise, all rnd1v1dual
'· . t ·n •pace , as a tree, a landscape, a city'· belong
z 7 to
ov;ec s i ·'
.t.
. HJ'.ord~ plirases generally all exegetica t iemes'
t
par i ion. rr
·,
'
· d
as of Scripture texts and propositions to be explame as ~o
their terms and the nature of the judgment expressed in
them likewise belong to this class.
o:her themes may be analysed by division or by partition, according as they are viewed generically or not.

78

EXEMPLIFICATION.

· EXPLANATION.
:;

or "common" which are to be explained by more
specific or individual truths or facts.

' .... CHAPTER V.
OF

In exemplification, thus, a general principle of conduct is
explained by the exhibition of a particular act in which it
was manifested. The principle of patriotism is exemplified
in the self-devotion of a Spartan hero; of justice in the
stern decision of a Brutus; of christian heroism in the mar-

EXEMPLIFICATION.

§_ 101_. EXEMPLIFICATION is that process of ·explanat10n m which the theme regarded as a whole is
represented through one of its parts taken as an example of the whole.

tyr at the stake.
General truths, also, are exemplified by some particular
truth which they comprehend. That virtue is its own reward is exemplified, thus, in the elevated peace and happiness which follow a particular deed of self-denying benevolence. General facts, likewise, are exemplified in some
particular instance. The. cin;;ulatjon of the sap in vege tation
is explained by an exhibition of it in a single plant.

As this_ process rests ultimately on our belief that nature
works
· ·1ar causes are connected with
. . uniformly, or th a t s1mi
similar e~ects, it bears a close affinity to narration and also
to ·analysis
by division. Indeed it mi""ht
,
prot b
" , w1"tll some
pne
. .
It
d.
IB y, e regarded as an imperfect species of d"iv1s10n.
l ers from it in this respect that, while in division all the
parts are enumerated, in exemplification only one .
sented
Th·
Is pre.
IS process, is, however, widely distin""uish d
proper division in regard to the principles
·o:ern it and the form which it takes.
g

fro~

79

whi~h

. Exemplification is one of th~ most effective and interestrng processes
· h" of explanation. Almost all our k now 1edge
~ome~ m t is way . . It corresponds to the process of induction m ~onvfotion. From observing the manner in wliich
"t
one particular seed germinates and grows and m t
f ·t
1
a ures 1 s
rm' . we earn how vegetation proceeds generally. Under;taudrng how one process in mathematical science is perormed, _w e_ understand how all processes governed by the
same. prrnc1ple may be performed. We learn from th
exercise of a virtue in one set of circumstances what
nature and power and beauty must be in other circumstances. As thus the most familiar process and the best ada t d
to the huma n mrn
· d, I·t is
· most readily apprehended.
Pe

it:

h § 108. From the nature of this process it is evident
t at THE SUBJECTS appropriate to it must be general

§ 109. Exemplification readily combines ·with other
processes in explanation without involving much liability to a loss of unity.

i

Perhaps the only liabilities to a violation of unity lie in
the possibility of selecting an example which do es not properly fall within the general truth to be explained; or in the
multiplication of examples to such a degree as to hid e from
view toe real truth to be explained.

§ 110. In the selection of examples, such as are
most striking, most intelligible, most interesting to the
hearer are ever to be preferred; since by such the
object of speaking is best accomplished, which is to
secure the clear and full understanding of the theme
by the hearer.
§ 111. When the example has been selected and
the general form in whic_h it . mar b~ best introduced
_....

.

'<

80

EXPLAXATIO::'i.

CO:IIPARI SO~ A:"\D CO:"\TRAST.

to ac.complish the object of the s;:ieaker has been dethe actual exhibition of the example will be .
e. e. y som.e ?ther process of explanation, as of
nanat10n, descnpt10n or analysis. It will accordingly
conform to the principles that control those processes . .

:~::n~~

I

81

.,·

id involved the relation of one individual or species to another through the class to which they both belong. The
relation in the one case is single; in the other it is double.
Skill in the use of this process will, accordingly, depend
chiefly on a clear and firm apprehension cif the common
class to which the things compared or contrasted alike belong.

CHAPTER VI.
OF COMPARISON AND CONTRAST.

. § 112. Wh.ile in .exemplification, a more generic
t1.u~h

or fact is explamed by a more specific or an ind1v1dual truth or fact embraced under it, in COMPARISON AND CONTRAST a truth or fact is explained b
another of the same class.
y
1 If :his .process be investigated in its fundamental princif
p es, It will be found that it necessarily rests on tl1e "d
· ·1 · ·
.
1 ea o
f
a s1m1 .anty In thmgs which may furnish a foundaf
arrangm g th em Ill
. to classes. It presupposes indeed ion1 or
to } · h h'
,
, a c ass,
w nc t. e themes compared or contrasted alike belon .
In, companson these points of resemblance are directly
~e~ted: In contrast, there must be a resemblance or simianty Ill some respect or there can be no ground on which
the contrast
V
.
. can rest · W e cannot contrast an eruption of
esun~s with the proposition that the angles of a trian le
are equivalent to two right angles, because they cannot
arranged to~ether under any class or any similarity between
them .of which use can be made in discourse.
This process diff~rs, thus, from exemplification in the circumstance that w lnle in the latter the rel a ti m of ti
to th
·
. .
'
·
1e genus
e species or rnd1vi<lual is involved, in the former, there

pr~

~c

•

§ 113. In comparison the theme is represented in
the exhibition of those particulars in another of the
same class which are common to the two; and the
attention is directed to the points of resemblance.
In contrast the two objects of the same class arc
represented in the light or the opposition which in
some respect they bear to each ot\1er.
' The chief magistracy of a republic may be explained in
comparison by an exhibition of the fun ctions, relations and
influences of the kingly office in unlimited monarchy, so far
a~ they are common to both. It represents the nation; is
the center of unity to them; is first among them; leads
them; administers law for them, and the like. It may be
explained in contrast by the points of opposition. The
king in a pure monarchy is the end, and the state the means;
the president in a republic is the means, the state the end.
The one absorbs the state in himself; the other is absorbed
in it. The 'one uses all the energies of the state for his own
pleasure; the other uses his for the state.
Thus, also, truth and error may be compared as states of
mind, occasioned and determined by similar causes, &c.
They may be contrasted in their opposite natures and influences.

§ 114. In comparison and contrast, the resemblance
in the one case and the opposition in the other, may

82

EXPLANATION.

lie in the constituent natures or properties of the
objects compared or contrasted, or in the relation$
which they sustain. In the former case the process is
de.nominated DIRECT or SIMPLE COMPARISON or
CONTRAST; in the latter case, it is denominated
ANALOGICAL COMPARISON .or CONTRAST, or generally,
ANALOGY.
· . Virtue and vice are compared or ·contra:ited directly when
represented as. moral states resembling or differing from ,
each other in respect of their essential character or properties. As virtue, thus, implies intelligence and free choice,
so also does vice. But .as virtue consists in a regard paid
to the principles of rectitude; vice consists in a disregard
of them.
They are analogically compared or .contrasted when exhibited in their relations to some third thing. Virtue is
related to happiness as its appropriate and natural consequence; vice to misery.

§ 115. In the selection of the objects of comparison

>

I:
I

'

or of co{ltrast, the same principles apply as in the case
of exemplification, § 110. They should be striking,
familiar, interesting.
Farther, in comparison, those objects of the same
class should be selected which are most unlike the
theme to be explained; while in contrast, it is conducive to clearness and effect to select those most resembling it.
,
The principle in the latter directions of this section is the
same in the two cases. The i:nind, when there are but few
points of resemblance, in comp<trison, or of opposition in
contrast, is not clisturbed and perplexed by many features
crowding on the view.

..

INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION.

83

· § 116. This process readily mingles in the same
discourse with the other processes. It is commended
by ihe same advantages generally that atte~d exemplification. It is sometimes the only convement process of explanation.
§ 117. The subjects appropriate to th!s -~rocess are
either generic or individual. The exl11b1t10n of the
object with which the theme is compare_d or contrasted
is effected by the processes before described.

CHAPTER VII.
OF

THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN EXPLANATORY DISCOURSE.

§ 118. THE EXPLAN~TORY. INTRO~UCT~ON §_ 68,
will often be useful in this species of discourse f01 the
purpose of bringing the theme more directly bef?re
the mind; or for facilitating the ready apprehension
of the discussion itself.
In a history of Greece, it may be necessary in order to
exhibit more distinctly to the reader of _what people t~e
history is to treat, to describe the country itself ge~graph1cally, which the people inhabit. Such a geographical de. t"
also help the reader to understand the nar'
f
scnp ion, may,
"t
.
If
It
may , moreover, explain the mode· o conra ti ve i se .
structin<T the history.
·
In a ~escription of th.e virtue of "discretion," ~n expla~atory introduction may usefully indicate the relation _of this
to other virtues, or eithibit an occasion of its exercise for

ND PERORATION.
lNTRODUCTI ON A

84

;
l{
I

EXPLANATION.

the purpose of a more explicit statement of the theme, It
may appropriately, also, so far exhibit the light in which
the theme is to be contemplated, or explain the particular .
mode of discharging it, as that the whole description shall
be more fully and correctly understood.

§ 119. THE INTRODUCTION CONCILIATORY will
respect the occasion of the discourse, the theme itself,
the mode of discussing it, or the speaker personally; as
it is evid ent that from these various sources either a
favorable or an unfavorable disposi tion may arise in
the minds of the hearers.

85

Tlie eroration persuasive will addres~ the theme
f "t to the will as an mducement
p .
k

or some view ta en o J
to some act.
i § 121 If various forms of the pe1oration. be chm.
. d
· t.. 57 reqmres t at
1 ed the principle laid own m -:i
'
h in
p oy '
.
l
d succeed each ot er
the respective forms emp oye
. h preceding
the order in which they are stated Ill t e
section.

It is less often the case in explanatory than in any other
species of discourse that this kind of introduction is necessary. Still it will be well ever to inquire whether from
any of the sources enumerated there can arise any feeling
or opinion unfavorable to the full understanding of the dis·
cussion, or any interest to be awakened from any one of
them that shall secure a more earnest attention .

. § 12 ~. THE PERORATION in explanatory discourse
may be in any of the particular forms enumerated in
§ 70.
The peroration explanatory will apply the representation either to some particular theme contained in
the more general one that has been discussed, or to
some kindred subject.
-. The peroration confirmatory will be in the form
of an inference readily · deduced from the view that
has been given. .
·'
The peroration excitatory will apply the general
theme or some view taken of it to the excitement of
the appropriate feelings.

··
.~'

.....

I

. -

_..... , ....~ .. - .
·.•

.~

·.....

...
_1

.'

J.

. ;·.~'

....
.

.... ....• •

,}.

INTRODUCTOfiY VIEW.

discourse, the object of w hlch is to prove that "the soul is
immortal,'~ may be stated in the form of "the immortality
of the soul."

• J

,' § 124. Confirmation in rhetorical invention arrrees
0
with the process of investigation in the circumstances
that both processes properly respect a judgment, and
that both are controlled by the same logical principles. It difTers from investigation in the respect that
the judgmen t is alre;i.dy known in confirmation both
in its matter and in its truth, while in investigation
either the truth or both the matter and the truth of
the judgment are unknown.

.i

p ART

11.-CONFIRMATION.

CHAPTER I.
GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.
•

§ 122. IN
corwm111ATION
the ob1iect
•
•
'
J
of cl'1scourse

~o convince; m other words, to lead to a n ew belief
or.Judgment, or to modify one already existin; in tl
mmd.
b
ie
IS

H ere lies th e essential distinction between explanat'
d
f'
·
' Ion an
con irmat10n. \ Vhi le both processes address the
I '
um er.
stan drng, the former seeks to produce a new
d"lf
or 1 erent
.
perccpt10n, the latter, a new or different belief o . d
'
.
r Jll gmen t.

. § 1~3.' As a judgrne1:t is ever expressed in a logical
p10pos1t10n, the theme m confirm ation must ever be in
~he form of '-~logic~! proposition; the truth of which
Is to be established m the mind of the hearer.
In this respect confirmatory discourse differs f
11
oth k' d
. I
rom a
er rn s; as rn t wse the theme is al ways a
t"
I
concep ion .
~ may be observed here that while the theme in con firmation must always admit of beinrr ex pressed i'n ti f
of . 1 rr·
..
o
ie orm
a o,,.1~ul propos1t1011, having subjec t, predicate and copula,
and so Jar as stated must imply this it is not .
al
ti t · b
'
uect>ssary
wa~s la it e actually expressed in discourse in tl1e strict
technical form of such a proposition. Tims the theme of a

87

'.

In undertaking the work of confirmation or convincing,
the speaker rnnst of course know the 1rn1tie r of the judgment which he is to .est-;tbl isli. He must be regarded, also,
as believing it himself anti of course of knowing th e evidence on wh ich it r ests. He pro fesses this in und ertaking
to convince. H e mnst know, thus, both the matter of the
proposition and its truth.
In i nves liga tion, on the otl1er hand, it rnay be wholly unknown whether there is sncb a truth as 1he process of investigation may lead to as its proper result. Known truths
may be taken, and by the application to them of various
principles of reasoning, entirely new truths may he ascertai ned and proved in 'the very process of investigatio n.
The mathematical analys t, thus, applies to an <issumed formula_ ce rtain processes by which its members are change<l
in their form and comes thus to new truths-to truths, perhaps, of which he lmd never dreamed until they stood out
proved before his eye.
- More commonly, however, in investigation the trnth is at
least guessed <it; or coucei ved as possible. The matter of

.·:·, CONFIRJIIATION'.
THEME IN CONFlRMATION.

·the judgment is before the mind,· and the process of investigation consists in· the discovery 'o f the proof on which . t~e
truth of it rests.
·
•· ·r.;
,;. Confirmation employs the results of this discovery for the
conviction of another mind. This latter species of investigation, therefore, which respects the proof on which an
assumed or conjectural truth rests," coincides to a certain
degree with in ventiou in confirmation. For it is the proper
office of inv~ntion . here to furnish the proof for a given
asserted judgment. It differs from this process of investigation only in the circumstance that it directs all its operations with a view to an effect on another mind. Investigation might rest satisfied with any adequate proof; invention
seeks the best. Invention explores ·the whole field of proof
·and then selects; investigation is content to take what is at
hand provided it be sufficient to establish the truth proposed.
Investigation implies a candid mind ready to be convinced
by the proof discovered; invention in rhetoric regards a
mind possibly prejudiced against the truth, and struggling
against every fresh charge of proof.

§ 125. The mind addressed in confirmation may be
'regarded as in any one of three different states; either
without any belief in regard to the proposition to be
confirmed, or in weak faith, or in positive disbelief.
The processes in confirmation, although in the main
.alike, will yet vary in .some slight respects in the
different cases.
The speaker will need ever to have a distinct regard to
this diversity of mental state in his hearers, and always to
know whether he is to produce an entirely new conviction, or to stengthen or remove one already existing. Differ:.
ent kinds of arguments often, or a different urrangemcn~ .

89

I same in kind , will be requisite in
of them even when tie
the different cases.
.

" 126. Belief admits of degrees; a~d may vai y
.f10
. :Im a faint probability to absolute cer tam_ty.' The
. de.,
·
propos1t1on
will
be
rec of belief in regard to a given
.
on
!ffecte<l both by the character of the ev1dencfe th
.
which it is perceived
to res t., a11 d by the . state o "te
mind in which it is entertained, both as it re~pects I s
feelings, arnl its opinions on other related subjects. .
.
o- rd to their respective
The distribution of proofs ~n re.,a .. d . Cha . IV.
.
andinop
., belief will be exh1b1te in
Power in comm

.
§ 127. As in explanation,
so s t"ll
1 more in. confirmation it is requisite that the speaker regard the taste, .tl~e
o~inions and the feelings of his ~1Carers; itt i:e1~h~

'in the exordium and the peroration, but a so
general conduct of the discourse.

.

CHAPTER IL
OF THE THEME

"'

lN CONFIRMATION.

.
.
·es of discourse is
§ 128. As the theme m t111s spec1 .
b .
exCF

a J·ud<Fment it will always admit of em"
ever <
o
'
. ·
§ 123
. a logical propos1t10n,
.
•
• h d b t een
Presse d in <

. .
arefull distmgms e e w
The ancient rhetoncians c f ti Yd. course. the particular
.
t
or
theme
o
ie is
'
·
• •
f ti theme. and the point
the general su b JCC
.
cl"
d
ansmg
out
o
ie
'
.
question iscuss~
Q . flian
thus , in h"IS
'
'
.
.
·
tion turned.
mn 1
on winch the ques
. B 00k Third distingmshes ·
·
t
·
Oratorza,
'
work dt I11stztu zone
t. nd both from the
,
from the quaes w a
the thesis or causa .

8"

'90·

.'.- " - CONFJRllfATIOJ:I\.
PROOF.

statiis cp.usae . . Common language recognizes a like · distinction. We speak of the subject of discussion, the ques:
tion raised, and the point at issue. The subject of a give~
discussion, we might thus say, was 'the rig!tt of suffrage.'
The question raised was, 'ought suffrage to be universal?'
The point at issue, on which the question was made to turn,
was, 'oitght property to be made a test in the extension of
this privilege?' These terms are not, lrnwever, used with
great precision. Notwithstanding this looseness, it may be
· corr~ct to say that the subject indicatl.'s nothing in regard to
t_he object of the discourse, whether it be to explain, confi~m, excite or pers~ade; the question, while it · indicate~
this, does not determme on what mode of proof the decision shall rest; the point at issue determines all these. .
· Confirmation, so far as it is concerned in the exhibitio~
of proof, looks directly at the point at issue. And this may
always be expressed in a logical proposition with its subject,
copula and predicate. As 'property ought, or ought not to

91

"' - If there be a repugnance to any disc ussion of the
subject on the part of the hearers, the statement of
the general subject may, in some cases, be postponed,
till an interest is awakened by such considerations as
may bear on the proposition but are general in their
nature.
If there be a prejudice against the truth to be es tablished, likewise, it is sometimes better to postpone the
direct formal statement of the proposition, a nd merely
indicate a t first the subject, or propose the question for
investigation.
·

CHAPTER III.

he made a test in the extension of the right of suffrage.'

OF PROOF.

§ 129., While the proposition to be proved should
always be formally stated at the outset, in the mind
of the speaker himself, it will depend on several different principles, whether and how it should be stated to
the hearer.

§ 130. Confirmation effects its object-convictionby the exhibition of those conceptions of judgments
on which the proposition to be confirmed depends;in of.her words, BY THE EXHIBITION OF PROOF.

If no reason appear to the contrary, both facility
of apprehension and the increase of interest felt in
knowing exactly what is upder discussion require that
the proposition be stateg ·to tl1e hearers ~t the outset.
~hen, however, the proposition is complex, em
bracmg several parts, both clearqess n,nd interest may
· be promoted by the successive stateineni of ihe severnl
parts.

Proof consists, sometimes, of mere conceptions. All that
is necessary in such a case is to exhibit those conceptions
distinctly to view, and the work of conviction is completed,
so far as the mere proof is concerned. When I am to prove
that 'the setting fire to an outhouse in a given case is arson,'
I have only to resolve the term "arson" into its constituent
conceptions,.and exhibit them in order. If arson be defined
to be the 'malicious setting fire to any thing combustible
whereby human life is endangered,' then, if in the case supposed, the setting fire· be admitted to be malicious, and a

'·

92

· THE TOPICS.

CONFIRMATION.

dwelling was consumed in consequence, the proof is made
out on exhibiting the essential constituents of arson. So in
proving faith to be a virtue, I have only to analyse faith and ~
exhibit its component parts as a moral exercise put forth in
accordance with an intellectual assent. to truth . . The terms
of the proposition 'faith' ·a nd 'virtue' being understood,
the mind instantly passes into a belief of the proposition.
This process, acco rding to the universally admitted use of
language, is rightly denominated "proof;" although this term
may have been by some writers and in some cases restricted
its application to that species of reasoning in which the
conclusion depends on judgments. The importance of this
distinction in regard to the means of proof will be seen in
the classification of arguments.
·

in

It follows from the view of confirmation presented in this
section that invention in this part of discourse will eonsist
mainly iu finding proof.
It should be remarked that while the distinctive work of confirmation consists in exhibiting proof, the mere exhibition
of proof is not to be regarded as all that enters into this ·
will be seen mor~ specifically in a followinoprocess,
section.
' ·
"'

as

In confirmatory discourse, accordingly, proof constitutes
the body of discussion, § 63.

§ 131. Proof is either DIRECT or INDIRECT.

It is
,<li.rcct, when it is 'applied immediately to the establishment of the proposition.
~
' It is indirect, when it is applied to the overthrow of
objections.'· In the latte~ case it is called . REFUTA~
.
- ,
TION.
~

· . § 132.
A complex propos1t10n, embracin(J'
several
.
b
constituent propositions, may be proved by the sepa_-

rate and successive proof of each constituent part.
Although sometimes a complex proposition may best be
proved without such analysis and separate proof of the
parts, as, for instance, when the proofs are applicable alike
to every part, still generally it will preverrt confusion and
conduce to clearness and force in the reasoning to analyse
the proposition and establish each part s1)parately. In order
to secure this advantage the proposition -should be carefully
studied at the outset, to see whether it be complex or not,
and if c~mplex, whether the proof can be best .applied to
the whole or to each part separately.

§ 133. The work of proving a particular sitnple
proposition or a comple·x proposition regarded as simple so far as invention is concerned, consists in the selection and arrangement of the proofs on which assent
to the proposition depends. This part of rhetorical
invention was denominated by the ancients "THE
ToPICAL ART,'' or "THE ToPICs."
This department of the art of rhetoric was regarded by
the ancient rhetoricians and orators as one of the most
important in the whole province of rhetoric. Aristotle and
Cicero wrote separate treatises upon it. It entered largely
into every regular treatise on the art, and into every system of instruction. That it has fallen so much into disuse
is to be explained from the causes which have led to the
neo·t'ect of the department of invention generally. It forms
a :ecessary, constituent part of this branch of rhetoric. A
distinct view of the Topics will .accordingly be presented iu
the following chapter.

94:.

CONF_IJt.MATION.
-

• ~ . !· . • ' ;;,;~:t.~..\'.4'-;jt; ;•:

.

.: .

THE TOPICS •

'

., .. -~ ~· ~· . ~-: CHAPTER IV • ·
•>J ·::.·;-.i ~ ., .... :,'
·~r-" ... · ~
.

·..• :· i-"

/-:.. §

. • · .. ..,

13~.

It. is

OF THE TOPICS.

:-~
~

· ·c

~:w9,t_h,1.1.~.
• .i-~.';

· ·--·-,.,,:~~:A~t
;

,

th~ obj~ct of the Topical art ~o facili~:;:,

a~d-~m~e rhetoncal _mvention in confirmation

by a'
d1stubut10n . of the different" kinds of . f .
, i. ' . , . • . proo mto gen-'
·\ eral classes.' ' . . .

.'

.

~

: Th~ ~a~e ~rigin~lly signifies "places ;, . . - . th . L .
f
h'
, <ro-.. 01, e atm
o w ich was "loci." The whole field of .
f
d' 'd d
.
proo s was
~v1 e off mto several parts, to which the invenf10
dJ.rected as the "
t ,,
n was
•
sea s or P1aces of arguments. They 1vere
h ence called sometim - " . d
.
es se es argumentorum" · Tl
.
le
topics proper constituted ~pecies of the "l .
· h· h ·
ocz communes,,
:a:i~n mclude~ not only"arguments but truths used for ill;s, em belhshment, or other purposes in discourse and
nre gen_erally by the ancient writers thus distinguished ,f
the topics proper.
ro~

a

The specific practical utility of a .system oft .
. .
chi fl · ti f 1
op1cs consists
. e y m ie o lowing particulars, viz:
.
. 11
.
·..), It facilitates the search for pro 0 f
h'b· ·
genei a Y; masmuch
as 't
-1 ex I Its Ill systematic arrancrement the f
cl
· ·t
I·
·
"
ew general
asses _rn o w u ch all possible proofs may be reduced. The
search Is thus rendered direct d fi ·1
d .
.
2 B h . .
' e n1 e, an mtell1gent.
· Y t e drstnbution of
f ·
I
th · t . . ·
proo s rnto c asses accordincr to
e ID rms1c nature of tl
f I
"
th .
.
ie proo s, tie topi cs show at once
e comparative weight and value of the ditfe:ent
.that bear upon the sam
.
,
argunjjents
made eas .
.
. e _ques.t10n. ~he selectiou is thus
y' certarn krnds , of • sophistry, and those of the
mos t dan crer
k· d
" ous rn ' are at once detected; and the num"ber
0 f arguments necessary i
·
.
.
n a given case 1s ennced. As will
·r
appear more clearly hereafter some pr
proved on] b
'
oposi 10ns can be
y y a certain class of arguments Th
-.
•
e argu-

95

ments of one class, moreover, are intrinsically more weighty
than those of another.
Some compel bolief irresistibly,
others only establish a degree of probability grenter or less.
It is one of the most common and at the same time most
successful arts of sophistry to put off the less for the more
weighty; the merely probable for the absolutely demonstrative proof.
3. The topics furnish at once the main principles of arrangement.
4. By directing the attention of the learner to definite
parts of th e whole field of arguments successively, they furnish the means of a more thorough and familiar acquaintance with their respective nature and use.

§ 135. The first general division of proofs is in to
those which are given in the very terms of the propo·
sition to be proved; and those which are to be sought
out of it.
The former class may be denominated AN AL YTIC ;
the latter SYNTHETIC proofs.
All propositions, susceptible of proof, contain the proof
within themselves, .or depend on some truth or conception
out of themselves. The former cla ss are denominated by
logicians, analytic; th e latter, synthetic propositions. Th e
proposition " all trees arc organic" is analytic; since fr om
the very analysis of the terms ~ 'tr ees" and "organic,'' the
conceptions are given on which the truth of the proposition
rests. So likewise, the proposition "dueling is murder" is
analytic; as an analysis of the terms furni shes the proof.
On the other hand, the proposition "dueling is a relic of
barbarism" is synthetic; since here no analysis of terms
would furnish the proof of the truth affirmed. Something
is added to the subject in the predicate and the ground for

'\ '

·THE TOPICS.

. CONFIRMATION.

need of proof of other kinds to show that the terms of the
proposition actually contain the concep tions or truths on
which the truth of the proposition depe nds. But these conceptions being admitted to be there, the e~~ibition ~f thero
compels assent. In proving that the malicious setting fire
to an outhouse whereby a dwelling is accidentally consumed
is arsou, it may be necessary to prove, by testimony_ or
otherwise that arson necessarily includes the idea of malice,
the over/act ~f setting fire, the endangering of human life.
But if these are admitted to be constituent ideas of the comlex notion--arson-the proof is conclusive.

this · affirm~d. addition must be sought out of the propos~7
tion.
<.•
r • ~i
.:-.: Analytic proofs correspond very nearly, but not exactly,
to those denominated by -Aristotle and Cicero " intrinsic.';
They include, thus, the species of arguments enumerated by
.them 'from definition;' ' from the relation of species aud
genus;' 'from partition or enumeration of parts/ They do
.not embrace, however, all those which are derived from
'things bearing some affinity to the matter of . the proposi- •
tion.' Indeed, they take in but a part of one variety of this
.species, viz: that from conjugates or words derived from
. ~be same root.-i<

§ 136. Analytic proofs; being derived from the very
terms of the proposition, need not, for any practical
pu_rpose of invention be farther subdivided ; the ·search
bemg at once definitely directed and the weight and
relation of all arguments of this class being indicated
in the very nature of analytic proofs as such.
The terms of the proposition may be analysed by parti·.tion or by division, § 97, and the character of the proof
·will vary in ~ certain respect with the nature of the proposition.
But it is obviously of no importance how the
analysis is made or what is the form of the proof thus obtained so far as it respects any purpose of invention.

§ 137. Analytic proofs carry with them the highest
~alidity

and force in all confirmation.

-

There can clearly be no higher or stronger proof than
that which is contained in the very statement of the proposition. In this case. the proposition is only to be placed
before the mind and assent is necessary. There may be

. * See Cic. Top. 2-4.

~....

i

97

p § 138. · The principle of this m~st_ ge~eric divisi~n
of proofs into analytic an~ sy1~thet1c md1cates the fiI_st
step to be taken in the inventton of argu_rr~ent~. It is,
study carefully the terms of the propositwn itself

'

This is a fundamental and all-important rule in all confirmation. Many questions, not lo say most that are controverted, are resolved at once by the explication of the
meaning of the terms employed to express them.. They are
controverted only because the parties see them m different
aspects. But even where the question is viewed in t~1e s~me
light, the explication of the meaning of the terms is often
the effectual method of deciding the controversy. And
where not, where synthetic proofs are requisite, the mind_ is,
by the thorough examination of the questi~n in a~l poss~ble
lights, furnished with the best helps and gmdes to invention.

§ 139. Synthetic proofs, being derived f'.·om without
the proposition, are either such as are given by t~e
mind itself acting under the necessary laws c;if its.
being, or such as are derived from with~ut the mind.
The former species may be denommated INTUI·
TIVE j ' the

latter,_EMPIR~CAL proofs.

98
~

THE TOPICS.

CONFJl?l\IATWN'.

·In dmonstrating the proof of a mathematical proposition1

we can trace out the steps from the premise to the conclusion
withol,lt aid from external proof. . The diagrams and n~~!
i:;nerical figures or alphabetical symbols which we often or_
generally make use of in mathematical reasoning, merely
facilitate our mental operations. A Newton or a Pascal
could reason out the theorem. independently o( such aids'.
In ·other words, the mind in this case intuitively perceives
the connection between the subject and the predicate. And
it matters not whether the reasouing be more or less simple
or brief. No mere analysis of the terms of the proposition,
however, can give the proof. The mind_intuitively, necessarily, adds the predicate to the subject. The quotient of
ab divided by a is seen unavoidably by every one so soon
as ' he understands what is meant by the statement. Yet no
mere analysis could give the proof. \Vhile they are therefore in their very nature disti nguishable from analytic proofs,
being perceived at once by the mind, they may be denominated intuitive.
Empirical proofs being derived from without the mind
come to it only through experience, and hence obtain their
name.
Intuitive, Hke analytic proofs, need no subdivision. They ·
are chiefly employed in mathematical reasoning.

· .§ 140. . Analytic and intuitive proofs possess apodictic
or demonstrative certainty.
·
· Unless there be in accuracy _in the application of them,
they ~ust always compel assent.' Hence, it would. be ~n­
tlrely unnecessary for conviction to ~dvance any other arguments, were it not that, in the first place, there may be
suspicion of inaccuracy in the application of the proof; and;
secondly, that the human mind has passions as well as in-

99

ti is subj' ected to the
tellectual powers and in · respect to b o J
laws of habit, and hence
"convinced agaiust its will
Is of the same opinion still."
Hence thti necessity of superadding other pro~fs; mai_nly that
the native love of truth may have opport_umty of nsrng ~y
the contemplation of proof and triumphrng over prc;udicc
and aversion.

§ Hl. Empirical proofs are divided into the following varieties :
First, EXPERIENCE j
Second, ANTECEDENT PROBABILITY i
Third, SIGNS;
Fourth, ExAl\lPLES.
§ 142. Of Empirical proofs, those from experience
. h ty arrd decisive:, but the u se of
are the most we1g
them in reasoning is very limited.
The principal uses of this variety of proofs are 1.
as materials for other varieties of proofs;
.
2. In rare cases to prove the particular facts to which

they relate.

It will sometimes be ~he case that a speaker will ne~d to
·t ' vhi'ch has come within the personal experience
prove a fac •
.
.
I
d to intellectual and moral exercises
of his hearers.
n regar
.
. ti' no-uished from mere sensations this appeal to such
as d is 0
f
to
.
•
'perience will ordinarily conslSt m a re erence
persona1 ex
.
d
th
.
n whi' ch the exercise was experience ; us e
t h e occasion o
. · lf ·
.
be remembered while the exercise itse may
occasion muy
h ·
notice of consciousness. Demost enes
the
d
h ave escape
· h h d ·
thus proves to the Athenians that the policy ~vhic .. a in
.
d the1·r disasters in the contest with Philip was
f act occasione

100

CO.'fflllMATJO:Y.

THE TOPICS.

still a noble, just, worthy policy, by referrin"' to the occathe feelings of the citizens act~ally burst oul
in g~~erons indignation at the .supposed treac hery and artful
ambition of Philip.
·
. This variety of proofs is more commonly used as materials for other varieties of proof. They are thus used in
two different ways; first, as distinct and independent proofs.
secondly, as component parts of a comple~ body of proof'.
Th~s the neces&ity o'f religion to the ci vil welfare and secimty of a nation might be forcibly proved to th ose in
France who had li ved through the terrific sce nes of the
Revolution
by appeal s t o th e1r
· own persona l expenence.
·
.
One rnstance of such experience, perhaps, might not suffice
for the proof. The repetition of those instances clay after
day for years would afford proof almost irresistible. Another illustration may be taken from Dr. South's argument
to prove that other forms of goYernment insensibly partake
of mo~archy and slide into it. He says, "For look upon
any aristocracy or democracy, and still you shall find sorr.t!
one ruling active person among the rest who does every
thing and carries all before him. vVas not De Witt
amongst our neighbors a kind of ki ng in a cornmo;1 wcalth?
And was not that usurp er here amongst oursti ves a monarch
in rcali !_\' of fact, before he wore the title or assumed the

~ions on which

Qfiic ~

I" '

§ 143. P.woFS

.
FROM AN T ECEDENT

PROilABlLITY

are founded on the relations of a cause to its cfTect or
of a general law to its particular results.
From the rise of the sap in the tree, thus, we infer, that
there will be foliage, bloom, fruit and other particulars of
vegetable growth.
The circulation of the sap is, in this

*

Discourse on l's. 111, 10.

101

case, the cause which, unless something interfere to hinder
its operation, will produce those effects. So observed diligence and integrity excite the confident expectation of thrift
and success. These are known causes of such a result.
Again, we believe from our knowledge of the laws of
gravitation, that a heavy bouy unsupported will fall to the
earth. Here we have no distinct perception of the particu·
lar cause of gravitation; we refer the phenomenon only to
a law; and from our knowledge of th e existence of the
law, we affirm with unhesi.tating confidence th at when the
fit occasion is presented the proper operation of the law will
be witnessed.
vVhether th e cause in operation .or the law r eg ulating· it
in this kind of proof, is more prominent in view, the nature
of the proof is the same. There is, in both cases, ever im·
plied a cause operating and a law governing its operations.
R-el'er ence is generally made to the cause when it is known;
to the law when the cause is unknown.
The validity of this proof rests on our conviction of the
uniformity of the course of nature.
This variety of proof is frequ ently employed with great
effect in questions of fa ct. It is th e main reliance of Mr.
Curran in his argument in defense of Finney. He employs
with much fo1ce the perjured and corrupt character of the
informer in the case as ant€cedent probability proof that the
charge . was gro undl ess.

§ 144. The proof is of the nature of an antecedent
probability proof when the absence of a sufficient
operative cause is urged against the belief of a supposed event.
While from the laws of the mind we necessarily antici•
pate the appropriate effect from the observed operation of

9"'

102

CONFIRMA'l'IOJ'C

a cause, so likewise, on the other hand, we reject the
supposition ·of an event having occurred, if there be no ·
proper cause to produce it. The absence of all motive to
commit an imputed crime is thus esteemed a strong proof
against the fact of its having been committed. .
There is, properly speaking, .no cause existing of a supposed event, when there is no opportunity afforded for its
operation. In such a case, the cause is virtually wanting.
If thus, there be a known ground for the probability of the
commission oJ the crime in the character of the accused, yet
if there be no possible opport~nity for committing it, there
is no operating cause;_ and the proof is as valid in this form
as in the other where the non-existence of the cause itself is
presented.
· Criminal trials abound with instances of this species o{
proof in both of its forms. A single exemplification will
suffice to illustrate its nature and application. In the
"Goodridge case " so called, Mr. vVebster urges the want
of all possibility of previous arrangement and concert,
which the circumstances of the alleged crime presupposed,
in proof of the innocence of the accused; while, on the other
hand, he feels himself called to rebut the proof arising from
the want of motive on the part of the prosecuting witness
to feign a robbery.""
·
\

§ 145. The force of any given antecedent probability proof will depend on the degree of certaint.y in
the connection between tke cause and the effect.
If the cause be adequate to the effect and actually
" 'Vebster's Speeches, Vol. II. In this case two men were tried
on a charge of rohbery committed on the person of Goodridge who
The main reliance of the defense
was tl1e prosecuting witncs•.
waa that the robbery was n pretense.

TllE TOPICS .

103

operate, or no hindrance intervene, the proof i~ ~on.
If, on the other hand, there be unce1 t.amty
c1us1ve.
.
whether the cause actually operate, or whether it
operate free from hindranc-~ or ~nterruplion, the force
of the proof will be so far impaired.
Where the proof lies in the absence of all cause to
the supposetl effect, the conclusion will be more or less
. acco1
. ·d·1110a- to the degree in which all causes or
certam
occasions possible in the case are excluded.
An important distinction is to be made between t:1ose antecedent probability proofs which are purely physical and
sue h as are moraI . A physical cause must operate when
.
. is
. presen
. t ed · \Ve infer with absolute certarnty
the occasion
. ·
that water exposed will fr eeze when. the t.empe.rature is be. porn
. t · We cannot 80 certainly infer
low. the f reezmg
· that
. .a
.11
steal
or
defraud
when
an
opportunity
Wl
.
IIis
cove tous ma n
afforded; or that a threat of vindictive pass10~ w~s actua y
followed by murder when occasion of executmg it was presented.

§ 146. SrnNs are proofs which derive their force
from the necessary dependence of one thing upon an. This dependence may be that of an event on
oth er.
·
h' h ·
't
use or on the occasion or condit10n w ic is nec1 s ca
,
h
t proessary in order to the operation of t e cause o
duce the supposed effect.
The sign is thus the dependent event. or effect; ~he
thing to be proved is the cause or occasion on which
it depends.
The validity of this species of proof rests ultimately on
the principle, received unhesitatingly by every ~ind, ti~::
rr t presupposes a cause and an occasion of
every eaec

104

CONFIRMATION.

aperating. In the former species-antecedent probability
proofs, the argument is from the cause to the effect·, in this,
it is from the effect to the ca use.
· We infer from the freezing of water that the temperature
has fallen below the freezing point. This is a certain sign.
The discovery of a Lloody dagger in the possession of a man
after a murder known to have been committed by such an instrument, is a str-ong sign or proof against him. Here we infer
a cause from an effPct. We find it diffi cult or impossible
t.o admit the effect and at the same time to r eject the cause.
In the ~ame way we infer that if a dwelling, which had
been carefully secured, has been entered without violence
and robbed, there must ha ve been concert with some one
from within. The cause could not have operated without
such an occasion.
Signs include a number of varieties which it is unnecessary to consider in order separately. There are several of
th ese varieties, however, for reasons in part common, in
part peculiar to each variety, which seem to wa.rrant a
distinct notice.

§ 147. TESTIMONY is a variety of signs; the validity of which as proof consists in this-that the
testimony presupposes th e fact testified to as the condition without which it would not have been given.
The credibility of a witness does not always depend on
his character for veracity. The testimony of a notorious
liar and perjurer is sometimes conclusive; and on this principle, that we cannot believe he should ~o testify, unless the
events testified to were facts.
The degree of weight to be attributed to testimony is
always to be estimated by this view of the nature of testimony-that it is a sign, implying the facts to which it tes-

THE TOPICS.

105

tilies as more or less necessary conditions of its having been
given. \Vhenever, therefore, other occasions or motives
exist in the case for giving the testimony than the truth, the
credibility of the witness will be so far impaired. \Ve are
thus to judge th e credibility of historians. The historian of a
sect or of a party must be received as a credible witness
only so far as it may appear that truth was the condition of
his speaking as he do es. All admissions aga inst his own
sect or party, unl ess made as baits and lures, will be received as honest testimony.
It is from this view of the nature of testimony as proof,
that we see why opportunity and capabilit!J of observing
come in to affect the credibility of a ·witness. If these
qualifications are wanting, the connection between !he testimony as a sign, and th e facts testiti ed to as conditions,
wbich constitutes the very natnre of thi s proof, is c;estroyed
and there is nothing on which the testimony can rest.

§ 148. AtrTHOH.JTY is a variety of signs; and is
distinguished from testimony by the circumstance that
authority respects matters of opinion, while testimony
respects matters of fact.
The opinions of competent men .weigh as proof inasmuch
as we cannot conceive how such m en should entertain
those opinions unless they were founded on truth. If,
however, we can dis cover the influence of other causes to
determine th eir opinions, their authority weighs less with
us. The opinions of legal tribunals, pronounced after the
fullest discussions on both sides by interested and able men,
under the solemnities of a judicial !rial,are weighty authority; because it is not conceivable that such opinions can rest
on any other foundation than truth.
The validity of legal precedents may properly be subjected

'c oNFIRMATION.

to this test. An independent and intelligent judge will set
aside a precedent on proof that the decision was determined
by other motives than love of truth or rectitude.
a,

. § 149.

TESTIMONY and CONCUR·belong also to this species of
proofs. The mere concurrence of witnesses or J· udrres
0
'
apart from all consideration of their personal claims
.to credibility, is a sign, often conclusive, that the fact
or opinion is truly as represented.
RENT

CONCURRENT

AUTHORITY

Previous concert, or common interest at once impairs the
force ·of this proof. For then another cause or occasion is
furnished to account for the fact of the testimony than the
actual truth.

§ 150 .. EXAMPLES are proofs which rest on the resemblance or common property or relation that exists
between individuals of the same class. One is taken,
and from something found to be true of that, an m-·
ference is drawn to one or all of the others.
The naturalist, thus, having discovered by analysis the
inorganic constituents of a particular plant, infers from this
example that any other of the same species will contain the
same constituents. l\Jr. Burke, in his Speech on the East
India Bill, sustains his charge of hypocrisy against the East ·
India Company by adducing as examples their treatment of
Mr. Hastings, on the one hand, whom they reprehended
with unparalleled asperity, and yet continued to trust with
the entire control of their affairs in · India; ~nd of Col.
Munson, Gen. Clavering, and Mr. Francis, on the other,
whom they "ruined by their praises."
The force of the example, as a proof, rests ultimately
upon the principle that like causes produce like effects; for,

THE TOPICS.

107',

u has before been -observed, § 98, the notion of a cause lies
at the foundation of all classification. The force ~f this
proof is, consequerrtly, impaired precisely in the degree that
mpre than one cause may possibly have operated in the case.
In nature, the proof is generally c,onclusive; for we can
conceive of but one general cause. In conduct, how ever,
we cannot safely take the actions of one man as exemplifications of the actions of another; for we cannot determine
that the same motiv es have influen ced in the two cases.
It is important carefully to distinguish the different purposes ' for which an example may be introduced into discourse. It is used not only as proof in argumentation, but,
also, as mere illustra tion, and likewise for ornament. It
may subserve, moreover, any two of all th ese purposes at
the same time. An argument c'orisequently may be disguised under what appears to be a mere illustration or embellishment, and may thus have force as proof which it
could not have received if exhibited in its own dress and .
form, as then its weaknesss or unsound ness would have been
detected. So, likew ise, a solid argument may be taken for
a mere ornament or illustration.

§ 151. We argue from example either to the whole
class or to other individuals of the class. The former
species are, for the sake of distinction, denominated
ARGUMENTS FROM INDUCTION.

From observing that heavy bodies fall to the earth, we
infer, by induction, the general principle of gravitation.
Whether one or more examples, or, generally, how many
examples are necessary in order to warrant the inference, .
depends on the question, how many are necessary in order
to show that but one cause has produced the result. The
philologist might safely i~fer from .observing in a gil'en

108

langu11ge · n single instance of · a sec.ond future tense, : th~t
this tense-form was a general feature of the language, since"
the single cause that conld have originated the use of it lies (
in the primitive nature of the language. He could not; '
however, infer from observing that in a particular case thi~
species of time was expressed by auxiliaries, that the Jan.
guage contained no proper tense-form for this time; for accidental causes may have produced exceptions to a general
law.
So one observed insta~ce of a particular metal sinking in
water, might authorize the conclusion that the specific gravity
of the metal generally, was greater than that of water; that
all pieces of the same metal would sink in the same fluid.
For but one cause can here be supposed to act in determin· .
ing the metal to sink. But one could not properly infer
that all ores of the metal would be of a greyish color, from
observing a single specimen of that color. Since, in this
case, a diversity of causes may exist in different localities .
to determine th e color of an ore.

§ 152. Examples are founded either on resemblance
of properties Cir on resemblance of relations. Those
of the latter kind are denominated ARGUMENTS FROM
....

1

ANALOGY.

'Vhile an argument from analogy differs thus from other
examples in the circumstance that the former is founded on
a resemblance of relations, while the others rest on a
' resemblance of properties, yet the · same princ.iple gives ,
alike, ·to both varieties, all their .. forc~ as proofs, viz: our .
conviction of the uniformity of nature.
·~

. § 153. Analogical reasoning is

109

. THE TOPrc·s.

CO:-Jl'lRMATION.

when the,1
two things compared bear a similar relation to a third. , •
SIMPLE

As when from the relation of the earth to its uses, it is

inferred that ·other planets, from the same relation, mi~y be
. I b"t d Or when it is inferred, from th e fact that nrtnc
rnia1e.
'
.
d
affects our well-being, that vice must likewise; Yirtne an
· b ·n(T both moral habits or ditiposi tions, and the relavwe e1 b
.
. .
tion being the same-both alike affeclrng cond1t10n.

§ 151. Analogical reasoning is

COMPLEX

when two

different relations are introduced.
Thus it may be argued from the fact that virtt'.e tends to
happiness, that vice must tend to mise1?· . r_n tin~ case, ~he
·1 analogical proof rests on the s11111lanty ol relation
w 1we
.
Tl. . ti
11s is
ie
between both virtue and vice, and wellare.
. elation Another specific relation is in trod need as
genenc r
·
.
.
I
.
belono-ino- to enr-h of the terms-th at of virtue to iapprness,
and of vlce to misery. These are dissimilar r elat10ns. It
i~ by another principle of proof tha~ the .tendency to. affect
welfare common to virtue and vice is believed t_o ~e in t_he
one case salutan'' in the other pernicious. Tins is an 10..
·
~ ~ E va~<r1Wv.
stance of Aristotle's
argument fr om con t ranes-,
. .
t
In a complex analogical argument, however, it is. no
necessary that th e second relations shou ld be to oppos1teil.
As from the relation of a seed to the plant \-1; e may argue
. ot· an egg t0 ti 1e fowl • The relain respect to th!" relat10n
tions of a germ to the parent and to the living product a:e
to the eCTo-, These are the generic
common t o tiie Seed and
bb
d
relations. The specific relations of the egg to th e fowl an
of the seed to the plant are dissimilar, but are not proper
opposites. The force of the analo~y reaches only to the
similarity or resemblance of the relat10ns.

§ 155. Examples may be REAL OR INVENTED.
. t a I{en from .actual
Real examples, or such as aie
observation or experience, carry with them their own
evidence.

IO

lIO

CONFIJlMATION.

Invented examples must
. . .
or be credible in themselves ~o:~~ss m_tnnsic probability
can have no weight a
. '
erwise they evidently
.
s a1guments.
Aristotle instances as an invent d
. -:
by Socrates, of th e ma .
h e .example that employed
th ·
1at. The case pr b bl nners c oosrn
g eir steersman by
0 a y, never I.
'
f
clearly might occur and "t
. n act occurred; but it
the lot faJJino- upon :n
lk~llcflll 1llustrates the possibility of
"'
uns I u person. d h
d b ,
' an , t erefore, was
a valid argument a 3
use Y Socrat<>s
·
.
. .
. - agam&t the practice
then common of a
Dr \VJ '1
ppointrng magistrates by lut
'
iate y has well observed t11at h ·1 .
.
case which has not thi" . t . .
w I e a fictitious
s rn nns1c pr b bT
no weight whateve
o a I ity has absolutely
r, any matter of :f: t
h owever unaccount bl .
ac ' on tl1e other hand
'
.
a e 1t may seem h
weight in reference to a
ll 1 ' as some degree of
"
para e case " N
.
reason, he proceeds t
k
•
o satisfactory
b
o remar "has
yet een assigned for
a connection betwe th b ,
en e a sence of u
.
.
pper cuttrng teeth or
of the presence of 1
JOrns, and rummation. b
.
,
are so numerous a d
, ut the rnstances
.
n constant of this
N aturalist would he "t t "f
connectrnn, that no
·
si a e, 1 on exami r
c1es he found th
t h
na ion of a new speose cet absent and th h
pronounce the anim'al
.
e ead horned, to
a rumrnant."
§ 156. As the points of resembla

ent objects are d" . .
nee between differ.
n eISe, and thin s
.
yet have some resembl
g most unlike may
ance
to
each
th
.
fcore be embraced und . h
o eI, and theree1 t e same I
.
,portant in the use of th " k"
c ass, It becomes imIs
md
of
ar
one h and careful! t
gument, on the
'
Y o set forth th
.
resemblance on wh· h . h
e particular point of
Ic t e argu
the other, in estimating th
. ment rests; and, on
to reject from the t "
e weight of the argument
.
es imate those
.
.
lS no resemblance.
points m which there

THE TOPICS.

111

·While those arguments which rest on rescmbbnces in
obj cts most unlike are generally in themsel ves more striking and forcible, they arc yet often sophistically invalidated
- and rejected, because in most respects they are so dissimilar.
On the other hand, no sophistry, perhaps, is more common
than that of assuming a resemblance in all points where
there is imch resemblance in many. In the use of this
species of argument, it becomes, then, of the utmost importance to bear in mind both that the most similar things
differ in some respects, and perhaps in that very point ou
which the argument in a given case depends; and, also, that
the most dissimilar things may h'1ve some prop Prties or
relations in common, and may therefore furnish foundations
for valid reasoning.
The decisive test of the soundness - of all arguments
founded on resemblance, is furnished in the inquiry: do the
particulars of resemblance owe their existence to the same
cause; or, wnere thecause is .not known, to the same law?
As the whol e force of examples as argum ents rests on the
sameness of the cause, or of the law which has given origin
to the res emblances on which the classification depends, the
detection of this cause or law, where possible, will ever discover the validity or invalidity of the example as an argument. Just so far as there remains a doubt of the sameness of the cause or law, so far must there. be weakness in
the argument.
0

§ 157. ·while all simple argument:s may be referred
to some one of the foregoing classes, many complex
arguments partake of the nature of two or more;
their force in reasoning is consequently modified in
reference to the rnspective character of the classes of
arguments of the nature of which they partake.

•
112

THE TOPICS.

CO:>iFllDIATIO;'ll .

. What _is ~ften ciilled a priori rea&oning not unfrcquently
rncludes lil itself not only an antecedent probability argu-,
ment, but also a sign, or an example. From the falling oL
the barometer, we infer a priori that there will be a cl1ange
of the weather; not because we suppose the fall of the mercury to be the cause of the change, but because it is the si 0"11
of the existence of the cause. We in this case, in
first argue by a sign, to the existence of a cause, and then
by an antecedent probability argument, to its effect, viz: .a
change of t.he weather. In the argument in "the Goodridge
case," before referred to, § 144, several circumstances are
advanced as signs in proof of a cause or motive to feicrn a.
robbery; from which cause, thus proved, the inference "was
that the prosecution was groundless.
,
Lord Chatham in his speech "on removing the troops
from Boston," argues the continued and determined resistance of the Americans to an arbitrary system of taxation
from the spirit of liberty which animated them in cummon
with all Englishmen; and the existence of this spirit is ·
proved by an example-the proceedincrs of the General
congress
' at Philadelphia. This would ordinarily
"
be called
an a priori argument, inasmuch as the for ce of it rests
mainly on the existing cause to produce the continued resistanc.e..But an "example," which is of the nature of an a pos~
tenon argument, is introduced to prove the existence of the
cause,
and the intermediate step of the arcrument
.
"
, the cause
·
itself, is not expressed but only implied.
In the same speech we have another form of the combi•
nation of the antecedent prob.ability argument with the ex- ·
ample. The example is introduced, not as in the other case
to prove .the antecedent probability argument itself, but t~
confir~ it as .proof ~f the main proposition. The. speaker
exemplifies tlie workrng of that spirit of liberty in the effec-

113

tual opposition to "loans, benevolences, and ship-money in
England," in the procuring of "the bill of rights," &c ..
The reasoning, as a whole, is a priori; but is complex, consisting of an antecedent probability argument and examples.
By 11n a priori argtiment, the fact of a revelation from
heaven is inft>rred from the general corruption of the human
race. The argument consists of an antecedent probability
argument-the determination of God to do all that is necessary to effect the recovery of the race; and of a sign-the
corruption of the race, to prove the necessity of such an

tru~h,

interposition by revelation.
A posteriori reasoning, also, often includes arguments of
different classes. From the migration of birds to the north,
we infer that some of the various ~ffe cts of spring have nppeared in the place of their hibernation. From the migration of birds, as a sign, we infer the return of warm weather
as its cause; and from this we infer again, by an antecedent
probability argument, the usual effects of the return of

I

~

spring.
While both a priori and a poste.riori reasoning thus often
contain arguments of two or more classes, there is yet an
obvious distinction between them. In the former, the antecedent probability argument is the one on which the force
of the reasoning mainly depends; in the latter, the sign or
the example is the prominent argument.
The analysis of complex arguments will often discover
the precise amount of validity due to them. It will disclose
also the point where the sophistry of a suspected proof enters.
Testimony and authority, also, often combine arguments
of different species, and are themselves frequently·combined
together in the same process of reasoning •
. What is .often called reasoning from experience, is dis-

10"

•

. 114

THE TOPICS.

CONFIRMATION.

tinguished from other species of reasoning only by the
source from which the arg uments are derived. It comprehends mainly those arguments which are in § 139 denominated empirical.
Th e argument from progressive approach, so called, is
but a species of induction,_in which we argue from the increase or diminution in the effect according as a particular
cause is increased or diminished in several examples, to the
perfect completeness, or the entire i:;emoval of the effect
when the cause is perfectly operative or wholly removed.
E. g. If we put a ball in motion on a rough surface, its
moticm soon ceases; on a smoother surface, its motion is
proportionally prolonged: hence, we infer that if there were
no resistance at all, th e motion would be perpetual. A
sophisti cal use of this argument has been made by some
enthusiastic advocates of Temperance. They have aszumed
that disease and death are the consequence exclusively of a
corrupt constitution inherited from parents who have violated the laws of health, or of a transgression of those laws
by the individual himself. They then urge the facts that
temperance and correct regimen promote health and long
life, just in proportion ' as the constitution is free from original corruption and th e laws of health are observed. They
hence infer that a perfect and universal observance of the
laws of health will in time purify the stock itself; the human constitution will be restored to its perfect state, and
disease and death will disappear.

§ 158. E111Prn ICAL proofs never carry '~ith themselves necessary certainty; although they possess all
degrees of probability, from mere probability to full
but not necessary certainty.
Proofs derived from our own experience we can never

115

q~estion. · They are decisive so far as they go; but the certainty which they produce is very different from that which
is produced by analytic and intuitive reasoning.
Antecedent probability arguments sometimes produce full
certainty. If the cause certainly exists and no hindrance
can arise, the effect is certain; and the proof is decisive of
belief. Just so far as doubts may arise in regard to the
sufficiency of th e cause or the opportunity of its operating,
just so far will the reasoning from this r.lass of proofs be

invalidated.
Signs possess full certainty, or higher or lower degrees of
probability, according as the cause or occasion to be proved
by them is more or less necessary to th eir existence.
The conclusiveness of examples as proofs depends on the
question whether th ey are determined, in the particular
character in which they are presented as proofs, by the same
cause which is supposed to produce the thing to be proved,
§ 156. Frorri observing the organic structure in one plant,
the naturalist will safely conclude in r egard to any other
plant of the same species. He cannot, ho wever, so conclude
in regard to the color. But one cause can be supposed to
operate in the former case ; in the latter, yarious causes may
have influence.

§ 159. From the diverse nature of the different
kinds of arguments enumerated it will appear at once
that while some are applicable to all subjects, others
are adapted only to particular kinds of subjects. ·
Analytical proofs are applicable to every kind of
subject, as is obvious from their nature.
Of Synthet-ical proofs, the intuitive class belong to
mathematical reasoning 01.. pure science.
Empirical proofs ..are ~mployed in all reasoning

116

-

ARRANGEMENT OF ARGUMENTS.

CONFIRMATION.

his righteousness; 3. his power; 4. his goodness. These
arguments from God's attributes, together with those from
his relations, form the heads of his a priori reasoning.
His u; posteriori argument is analysed by partition. The
parts given are 1. God has proposed the same terms to all
of obtaining his favor; 2. He has furnished the same means
and aids to all; 3. He has provided the same encouragem ents;
4. He watches ov er all alike in his pro vidence; .5 .. H e has
conferred on Christians the same privileges; 6. He holds all
alike subject to the same final retribution.

that respects matters of experience, whether the
reasoning terminates on facts or on g eneral truths. ·

CHAPTER V.
OF THE ARRA N GE ME NT OF AR G UMENTS .

§ 160. The importance of attention to arrangement
in confirmation depends mainly on two principles.
The first respects the sta te of the mind addressed.
The method suited to a mind favorably disposed, will
generally be unsuita ble to a .m ind opposed to conviction, and vice versa,.
·
The second principle respects the dependence of. the
proofs on one another. Some proofs are explained by
others, which must be previously exhibited in order to
the full effect of the reasoning. Some proofs presuppose others. Some, once more, have g reat weight if
preceded by certain oth ers, and are of little moment
unless preceded by them. '
The forc e and' effect of reasoning depends, indeed, hardly
less on the ord er than on the matter of the proofs. P erfectly
conclusive arguments when presented in the proper order
~ay lose all their forc e if ad vanced in a different order.

§ 161. If the proof advanced be sin gle but susceptible of analysis, the principle which regulates the arrangement of the pa1:ts will obviously be the same as
that in analytic explanation, §§ 94-106.
For illustration, Dr. Barrow, in his discourse on the
Divine Impartiality, presents in the a priori part of his
reasoning the followin g arguments from the divine attributes
as analysed by diJ.:ision, viz: 1. From God's wisdom; 2.

117

I

'

§ 162. If the reasoning embrace arguments of distinct classes, the principle of arrangement is to be
sought, first, in the state of .t he mind addressed.
If there be already a state of beli ef, and the object
of the discounse is to confirm and strengthen it,
then the weaker a rguments will gen erally n eed to be
placed fi rs t and the stronger on es ln st lo thi s 'Ila~
the deepest and strongest impression will be the last.
If there be an opposing belief to be set aside, it will
be better to advance the stronger first, in order to overthrow opposition at once. Th e weaker may follow
which will serve to confirm when they would be
of no ava il in the first assault. In order to lea ve,
however, a strong impression, some of the stronger
should be reserved to the close; or, what is equivalent,
the arguments may be recapitulated in the reverse
order.
Although this principle of arrangement, derived from a
. consideration of the state of the mind addressed, is not the
higher and more controlling one, but must generally give
way to the next to be named, still the state of the mind

118

CONFIRMATION.

THE BURDEN OF PROOF.

addressed must be first consulted, for that will often
determine what kind of arguments are to be employed as
well as the order of arrangement.
This principle, it will be observed, respects only the com- ·
parative strength of the arguments.

because, from the view of the cause, the effects are naturally
anticipated.
In Dr. Barrow's discourse on the Divine Impartiality,
the a priori arguments are with obvious propriety presented
first; and then the a posteriori arguments. If the order had
been reversed the force of the reasoning would have been
greatly weakened.
A charge of fraud against a man ge nerally r eputed to be
of upright oharacter would need a strong array of proof
from signs, as testimony and the like, to substantiate it.
But let a spirit of covetousness be first proved in him, and
especially if a single example be adduced iu which that
spirit has led aside from what was upright and manly, and
a very small amount of proof will suffice to establish the .
charge.
In like manner the proof of the divine authenticity of the
· Bible is conclusive when sufficient cause is first shown for
such an interposition from God, and then the arguments from
testimony, and th e internal evidence, are presented. But
without such cause being first shown, scarcely any amount
of testimony will be sufficient to overcome the repug nance
of the mind to believe that a miracle has been wrought.

§ 163. The second principle to be regarded in the
arrangement of proofs respects the dependence of the
arguments on one another.
This principle requires, in the first place, that the
analytic proofs precede all others.
The reason of this rule is obvious. As in exhibiting a
proof of this class, the proposition itself must necessarily be
explained, the relevance and force of every other proof will
be more clearly seen after such an explanation. In a judicial
question, for example, whether certain specified acts constitute legal murder, after the definition of mmder has been
giveu, the argurneul" frum uuthority or " legal pre.r.edents" - •
will obviously be more intelligible and also of more force
as confirmatory.

§ 164. T _his principle requires, in the second place,
that antecedent probability arguments precede e:camples and signs.
The example, introduced after the antecedent probability
argument, will serve both to illustrate and also to confirm
it. Indeed, in th is order, they r~ilect light on each other.
Mr. Burke, in his speech on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, in
endeavoring to prove that India had been reduced to a condition of extreme want and wretchedness, first presents the
causes in operation to produce it; then, examples of the
operation of those causes ; and finally particular signs of the
fact. The mind very readily receives the whole s'atemP.nt,

119

CHAPTER VI.
OF PRESUMPTION, OR THE BURDEN OF PROOF.

.

§ 165. It is of g reat importance in argumentation
to determine at the outset both in reference to the
main proposition, and also in reference to the particular facts or truths assumed as proofs, whether they

120

. CONFIRlllATIO.S.

may be fairly presumed or taken for granted until
disproved. This is called determining on which side
the PRESUMPTlON is, or on which THE BURDEN OF
PROOF-onus probandi-lies.
- ,
The importance of determining this point consists not
merely in the fact that thereby the labor of proof may often
be saved, but still more in the fact, that the mere undertaking to prove what ought to be presumed, will often throw
doubt upon what was clear and unque stionable. The veracity of a witness is ever to be taken for granted until it is
impeached. If one were to volunteer a defence of the character of a witness before it had bee n questioned, the very
attempt would excite a suspicion that the character neerled
some bolstering, and that the ad rncate was influenced by
his own distrust to make the attempt. So, like wise, if a
mun, who had been sland ered, were to undertake a defence
against the slander, instead of throwing the whole burden
of proof on the slanderer, and putting him to th t: task of
making out a case, even perfect innoceuce, and that which
otherwise would uppear so to all, might be blackened by
suspicion.
The great ad vantage that the side on which the presumption lies has over the opposite, consists in this, thott it must
triumph unless a decisive case is made out against it:-it
has all the henefit of a doubtful res ult. If the course of
procedure wer e now reversed, and the criminal were required
to prove his innocence instead of the government being required to establish his guilt, few that are accused would
probably escape condem nation. As it is, a slight shade of
doubt as to the guilt,. even although the probability b altogether against him, r esults for the benefit of the accused.
The discussions that have arisen on the laws providing for

~

THE · DURDEN OF PROOF.

121

! the imprisonment of debtors, hav e exhibited most forcibly

of how great advantage it is to be r eliev ed from the onus
probandi. It has been strenuously insisted by some that the
creditor should take all the burden of proof on himself, and
make out a clear case of fraud, befor e compulsory process
against the person of the debtor shall be iss ued. The extreme difficulty of proving fraud in rr.any cases has led
others to take th e ground th at a failure to pay an honest
debt raises a 'presumption of fraud which the debtor may
reasonably be held to remove by oath or evidence. It is
obvious that th e adoption of the one or the other of these
principl es, would greatly affect th e fa cility of enforci ng th e
payment of debts. Here not only will th e creditor or th e
debtor have the advantage of a "doubtful case according as
the presumption is on one side or the other, but the dec ision
of this point will determine to a great extent on what kind
of ' evidence the question of fraud shall turn-upon that
which is in the possession of th e creditor, or upon that in
possession of the d ebtor. It will not unfr equ ently occur
thus that the decision of the question will go one way or the
other according as th e evidence or proof is deri ved fr om this
side or from that side; and this is determined by t.he question, wh ere lies the presumption in the case?
Although it will generally be easy to determine on whi ch
side the. burden of proof lies, it may be of serv ice to lay
' down some general principles which regulate the determination of this matter.
... ; ·" ·

..

§ 166. The first general iJri~1~iple in ~egard to the
bui·den of proof is, that the affirmativ,e of every issue
.. is to be proved ... -- ..
i; .. ti -:
J

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•

122

- CONFIRMATION.

. ~

THE B URD EN OF PROOF.

the maxim o·~. the .civil law: 'Ei -incumbit prohatio qui

d£Cit, non qui negat.' ·

l~

This is not, however, a principle of unirersal application,
and must. often give way to some others to be named in the
following sections.
·
In the interpretation of this principle it should be borne
in mind that the stress is to be laid on the fact of alleging or
affirming, not on the form of the proposition itself as affirmative or negative. The principle is, he who alleges must
prove. If the allegation be in the negative form, it does
not shift the burden of proof. The fundamental ground on
which the principle rests is, that whatever is new shall be
acco"iinted for. He who makes an all~gation puts into being
a statement that did not exist before. He is properly called upon to account for jt-prove it and thus make it a truth.

§ 167. The presumption, farther, is generally in
favor of what already exists and against a change,
whether the question be one of truth, of right, or expediency.
··There is ·a presumption, thus, in .favor of prevailing
opinions and sentiments. They are not to be rej ected until
evidence has been advanced against them. Even such as
seem at first sight absurd or ridiculous are sometimes found
afterwards to be founded in truth. The Indians living in the
vicinity of the North American Lakes, generally entertained
the opinion that these lakes were subject to a periodical rise
and fall. This was .ridiculed at one .time as an absurd
superstition ; . subsequent observ~tions, . however, seem . t!>
countenance the Indian tradition.
·
On the other hand, the proposer of new opinions may be
justly called upon to present evidence in their favor; and
may be properly regarded as unworthy of credit until such

123

t>vidence be produced. He cannot even claim that the public
mind should be in a state of impartial equilibrium. His
opinions must be rej ected until positi ve evidence be adduced.
So, likewise, there is a presumption in favor of existing
institutions;-that t.hey are founded in truth and reason, and
arc for the public bene fit. The fact that they exist, creates
a claim in their favor which cannot be overbalanced by evidence against th em, that would suflice in a case exactly
poised in the opinions of men. The reformer is required to
make out a clear positive case, before he can expect to be
credited.

§ 168. The presumption, moreover, is in favor of
rectitude; in other word s, should be charitable.
It is a reasonabl e pri nciple in law, thus, that. a man be
acco ur1_ted innocent of crime until he. be P.roved g uilty. A
witness is to be believed, unless evidence is furnished of
falsehood. A man's integrity, generally, may not be questio ned until proof appears agains t him. His motiv es, also,
are to be regarded as pure un til impeached by positive evidence.
This is a principle, not only supported by considerations
of expediency, since the charitable man generally succeeds
best in a voiding the ills and securing the enjoyments of life,
hut founded in abstract truth and reason.

§ 169. Once more, the presumption is on the side
of whatever promotes the well-being of men, and
against whatever is restrictive or injurious.
There is a presumption, thus, in fa var of christianity,
because it is favorable, as is admitted even by its enemies,
to the best interests of human society. The presumption,
on the other hand, lies against whatever retards the progres~

124

CONFIRl\1ATION.

of society, restricts or confines the energies of men, or injuriously affects their best interests.
The ultimate general principle on which all these particular ma xi ms of presumption rest, seems to be this: that
the world is gov erned by infinite intelligence controlled by
perfect rectitude and goodaess. Ia respect to this, the sentiment is true, that "whatever is, is right"; and the proper
and the genuine res ults of goodness and truth harmonize
with each other, and also with what, for the most part,
transpires in providence. In all cases of presumption, consequently, whatever accords with the natural laws of providence is to be . presumed to be true, right, or expedient, as
the case may be.
·

§ 170. One presumption may sJmctimes be opposed
by another: when the circumstances of the case must
determine which shall outweigh the other:
Mahommedanism, thus, exists ; and so far a presumption
lies in its favor. YVith those who know of nothing existing in incompatibility with it, and who are not informed
or convinced in regard to its evil effects, perhaps, this fact
of its existence would furnish a strong presumption in favor
of continuing it. But its allowance of violence, and its evil
effects generally, are to those who are convinced of this, a
sufficient rebiitter against the presumption drawn from the
foct of its existence.
\

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:..C ••'-.t•

REPUT AT IO N .

125

CHAPTER VII.
OF REFUTATION.

§ 171. Dy

in its more limited sense,
is meant the overthrow of opposing arguments.
REFUTATION,

. Refutation is sometimes taken in the sense of defe nse
generally, Thus the argument of the defendant in a judicial trial, has been denominated a refut ation. Ilut in the
more proper use of the word, refutation has been restricted
to obj ections or opposing arguments.

§ 172. Refutation proper consists in the overthrow
either of one of the premises on which an objection
rests, or of the conclusiveness of the reasoning.
\Vhile refutation is go1;erned by the sarrte general principlt-s that apply to all argumentation, and has to do with
the same arguments or kinds of proof, it possesses the peculiarity, that it is applied to the overthrow of opposing argu•
ments. Hence, a more direct call is made in it on the lo·
gical principles for the detection of sophistical reasoning.
The overthrow of a premise falsely or incorrectly assumed
in an objection, may, indeed, be accomplishecl in other
methods common to all reasoning; but the detection of error
in the course pf the _reasoning is to be effectecl in accordance
with the principles of logic, which exp ose the possible modes
of sophistical argumentation.

§ 173. As all evidence does not possess the character of absolute certainty, it is possible, in some cases,
that there may be real evidence, or valid arguments,
on both sides of the question. In such cases, it is not
indispensably necessary to refute 'the opposing arguments; but it may he sufficient, while allowing it its
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126

INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION.

CONF'rttr.fkrION:

proper weight, to overbalance it with arguments o(
greater weight.
This is a principle ever to be borne in mind that, in cases
of probable reasoning generally, really valid arguments may
he advanced on both sides. The existence of such unan.
swerable argument,s should not confound or disconcert. The
opposite side may still be that of truth. In such case, it
seems important to apply the principles of the Topics; to
determine carefully the degree of weight to be allowed the
objection, and to oppose to it an argument of a higher rank,
or an accumulation of arguments of the same class.

§ 174. It is always sound policy to state objections
fairly, and to allow them all the force to which they
are entitled.
Nothing is more opposed to persuasiveness in reasoning,
than the appearance of unfairness. Sound principle was
accordingly reckoned by the ancients among the three essen·
tial requisites in the character of the orntor. Where the
speaker is to appear before the same audience frequently,
or to address one ·· acquainted with his character as a
candid and honest reasoner, the necessity of observing
this principle is manifest. And even where the general
character of the speaker can have no influence in favorably
disposing the minds of the hearers, still, as unfairness is with
difficulty disguised, and even suspicion of it is exceedingly
prejudicial; as, moreover, the consciousness of candor and
fairness will give the speaker himself a tone of confidence
and authority, itself most favorable to effect, it is ever safest;
as a matter of policy, to conduct the argumentation in per·
feet fairness.

§ 175. The principles of arrangement in regard to

127

'refutation, are substantially the same as those which
apply to direct confirmation, Chap. Y. As subordinate
and incid ental to confirmation, however, the application of those principles to refutation becomes slightly
modified.
In the first place, if the arguments to be refuted are
sufficiently m et in the main direct arguments, the
proper place to refute them is in the course of presentation of those direct arguments.
In the next pl ace, if the objections are independent
of the direct chain of reasoning, they should be answered at the commencement, if already weighing in
t.he minds of the audience; and at the close, if they
are anticipated as about t.o arise in the mind, or are to
be presented by an adversary.
.

'

CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE INTRODUCTlON AND PERORATION IN CONFIRMATION.

§ 176. The Introduction Explanatory in con~rma­
tion may respect the proposition itself, the particular
mode of discussion to be pursued, or some circumstances connected with the occasion of speaking.
It is unnecessary to particularize the several topics proper
for an introduction explanatory in confirmation. It is suf·
ficient to turn the attention of the speaker to those general
fields of view which it may he important for him to sur·
vey, that he may ascertai~ wha~ pqints will require elucida·

123

) .- CONFIRMAT!0:'.11.

··INTRODUCTION AND PE:tOJtATION .

•?

'

..

tion in order to prepare the way for the ready apprehension
of his discourse .
. r

,t,
,.f( '

will respect the person of the speaker, the character of the proposition, the mode of discussion or the
circumstances of speaking.

Sj
J~

§ 177. The Introduction Conciliatory in confinna-

! ion

,.

.

§ 178. Th e several p)ints in reference to the person of the speaker, to which attention may need to
be d irected in conciliation, are tl1e relation of the
speaker to the audience; to his opponent; to the
question to l)e discus3ed, and .to the occasion of speak~
rng.

§ 179. The three qualities requisite in the speaker
in reference to the audience, as prescribed by the an- .
cients, are GOOD SENSE, GOOD PRINCIPLE, and GOOD
WILL.

Good sense is requisite, because an audience will deem
itself insulted if a speaker presumes to come before it but illiuformed in regard to . the matter to be discussed. The
speaker, from his very office, professes his ability to enlighten
and inform his audience. Negligence to obtain a proper
und erstanding of the subject, shows at once a want of capacity to speak, or a high contempt of the audience.
A character for integrity is necessary, inasm uch as just
so far as the speaker shows himself unworthy of confidence,
will every thing he says be received with misgivings and
suspicions; while the· bare assertions of a reputedly honest .
man will ofte n be received with the submission which is due
to actual demonstration.
If, further, the audience be convinced that the speaker is
actuated by good will to them, all the influence of the feel-

120

ings over the mo vements of the in tell ect will b ~ favorable
to his designs .
\Vhile general rep utati on or character in regard to th ese
qualities will be mos t seni ceable in effec ti ng co nciliati on so
for as it dep ends on th em, th e speak er may do much in
removing an unfo.v orable impression from tl1 e minds of his
hearers, or in produci ng one that is fav ornhl c, by his manner
ut !he tim e. The character of his dis caurse, as mark ed by
th e particular features of intelligence, familiarity ,,·ith th e
subj ec t; grarity, mod esty, pure m oral sentiment; by kindness, 'deference, and r espect for his hear ers, will co nduce
greatly to awaken a favorable disposition in th em towards
hi mself. At the same time, indirec t professions toge th er
with allusions to fa cts in l1is history wliich may prese nt hi oi
chara cter favorably in th ese respects, OlilY Ji e often bencfi
cially employed .
It is obv ious that th e sam e general means are to be made
use of as well when an unfavorable disposition is to be set
aside as wh_en a favorable se ntiment is to be awakened.

§ 180. The speaker's relation to b is oppon ent will
need to be regarded by him, whenever the character
of his opponent in respect to th2 three points, befo:·e
named, may influence the mind of the hearer; and
a lso, when ever the personal relation existing between
them may favorably or unfavorably affect the disposition of the hearer.
Ad vantage, thus, may be taken of the character of the
adversary as being ill-informed in the case, wanting in principle, or unkindly disposed to the hearers. Or the advantage which an opposite character may g iv e an opponent will
need to be set aside or lessened by counter considerations.
The personal relations subsisting between the speaker and

'

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130

CO.'fflllllfATIO:'<;

his opponent will fr equently affect the disposition of tho
hearers in reference to the dis course. To speak in opposition
to one closely allied in any of the social relations of life, will
create a favorable or unfavorable disposition in the minds of
the hea rer, according as it may appear to them to have been
prompted by principle, or by selfishness or malice.

§ 181. The speaker's relations to the subject of discussion or to the side of the question which he maintains may, also, obviously favorably present him to
th e audience or otherwise; in either case, they will
demand his attention.
Exemplifications of this kind of introduction are to be
round in Demosthenes' Oration on the Crown where he
aaintains his right to be heard as one equally interested
vi th Ctesiphon in the issue of the trial; in Cicero's Oration
9r Cluentius, against whom he had previously spoken with
great severity; and in Erskine's speech on the trial of Thomas
Paine.

§ 182. Once more, the occasion of ::;peaking will often
in some relation which the speaker may bear to it
.
'
a fl ect the minds of the h earers and render necessary
suitable means of conciliation.
Cicero thus in his oration a!Tainst Crecilius commences
"
with an exposition of the reasons which induced him who
had never before appeared except in defence, now to become
a prosecutor against V erres.

§ 183.. 'I'he character of the propos1t10n will demand a conciliatory introduction when either the subject generally or the particular view taken of it by the
speaker at the time is likely to be offensive to the
hearers.

INTRODUCTION AND

·

PEROIL\TIO~ .

131

.' The advantage which a speaker addressing those of his
own ' party or sect or generally those of the same principles
with himself on a topic of common interest to them, oycr his
opponents, must obviously be great; and while it becomes him
to turn this ad vantage to good account, it is still more neces•
sary to his opponent to lessen, so far as practicable by any
of the yarious means of conciliation, this prepossession against
himself. In the famous orations on the crown, Dem osthenes
had to encounter the natural repug nance which men feel
against hearing a man commend his own actions; w bile
Aeschines lapored under the conviction that the jud ges were
of the party of his adversary. E ach orator, accordingly, in
his introduction, endeavored to lessen the difficulty which he
had in this respect to encounter.

§ 184. The mode of discussion imposed on the
speaker may be such as to call for some effort at con' in the Introduction when it rer1uires him to
ciliation
treat of topics offensive to the audience or to make
use of terms or a course of reasoning not easily intelligible to them.
In Judicial Eloquence, thus, argum ents embodying pure
legal principles are generally unimiting and with difficulty
intelligible to a jury; and the advocate, who would secure a
favorable hearing, will nel'd to use much address and art.
So purely metaphysical discussions on reli gious subjects before a popular audience generally repel and offend. Men,
moreover, are loath to hear of th eir own faults or weakpesses; and th e speaker who is obliged to recur to th em has
reason to fear that, unless due precaution is taken, their un•
willingness to hear will entirely prevent the intended effect
of his discourse.

§ 185. In th.e same way, the circumstances in which

132

CONFIRl\IATION.

the ::;peaker appears before .his audience may render
them indisposed to a favorable hearing, when the arts
of conciliation suitable to the case will be needful. · .·
The military array which Pompey had thrown around the
tribunal on the trial of Milo so influenced the minds of the
judges that Cicero felt it necessary, at the commencement of
his oration, to allay their fears and turn to his own account
the influence of Pompey, which at first seemed to the judges
to be arrayed against him.
·
'

§ 186. Several of these varieties of conciliatory Introduction, it may oftei: .happen, must be combined in
the same action.
The speeches of Demosthenes..on the Crown, and of Cicero
in the case of Milo, alluded to above, are examples of the
rnrious combinations of these different kinds of Introdur.tion,
§ 187. Confirmation admits all the various kinds of
p~roration enumerated in § 70. Recapitulation, moif

over, will here be especially useful.

... ;

...

,i

"

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!

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.• r •'

.. ..
~

~

'·;

• ! : ~,

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':

PART 111.-EXCITATION.
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL INTROD UCTORY VIEW.

§ 188. In Excitation the object of disco urse is to
move the feelings, either by awakening some new
affection, ~r by strengthening or allaying one already
existing.
The propriety of ranki;g e~~itation among the several
objects of discourse, and of founding upon this object a distinct species governed by its own laws and characf erised by
peculiar features, will hardl y be questioned by any who recognize the feelings or affections as a distinct class of mental
phenomena. In fact, we find a class of discourses construc ted in particular reference to this object, and distingnished from all others by peculiar characteristics. To this
class belong most of what have been denominated demonstrative discourses, particularly those pronounced on funeral and
triumphal occasions, in which the object is to awaken admiration, joy, grief, or other emotion. Here belongs, likewise, a considerable part of pulpit oratory, viz: that part,
the obj ect of which is to awaken or cherish some christian
affection or grace, or to allay or remove some improper
passion in actual indulgence.
That this object has not been distinctly recognised in sys-

.

12

134

EXCITATION.

terns of general rhetoric as one of those which give specific
character to discourse and furnish the grounds of classifica·
tion, is to be attributed mainly to the fact that in deliberative
and judicial eloquence this can seldom if ever be proposed as
a leading object, and such systems have been constructed
chiefly in reference to those aepartments of oratory.
In forensic speaking, however, excitation often enters in
a subordinate office; and there continues subject to its own
regulating principles, although modified somewhat by the
controlling aim of such discourse. Indeed, as has been ob·
served elsewhere, the various forms of oratory, as explana·
tion, confirmation, excitation, and persuasion, often mingle
together, each retaining its characteristic features in the same
discourse; while, still, it remains true that one or the other
must in every case predomina_te and give character to the
. whole discourse, and the others be only subservient to this
main cl esign.

§ 189. The work of excitation is accomplished
either by the appropriate presentation of the object of
feeling merely, or by this_combined with the power of
sympath~'·

The two departments of excitation are, accordingly,
and the EMPLOYMENT OF

PATHETIC EXPLANATION
SYMPATHY.

The feelings, like the intellect, belong to the spontaneities
of the mind; and are only indirectly controlled by the will.
They move necessarily more or less on the presentation of
their appropriate objects. . They are, nevertheless, as pheno·
mena of the same mind, subject to an influence from the
will and the understanding, as well as from the general
tone and habits of the mind.
It will sometimes be necessary in excitation to prove a

INTRODU C TORY ~

VIEW.

135

fact or truth. But this process is only incidental; whereas
explanation is the direct means of awakening feeling.

§ 190. The more general units of the discourse in
excitation will consist in the singleness of the theme;
the narrower unity, in the singleness of the feeling or
affection to be addressed.
It will be observed that the th eme as well as the feeling
addressed, may be individu al or generic; may em brace a
single object or a class of objects. Generally, where the
feeling to be. excited is made the germ of dev elopment, the
theme will embrace the several particulars addressed to the
feeling.
It is of imporlance fo distinguish carefully between tlie
theme and the feeling addressed in excitation. They are
not unfrequently confoundetl in popular discourse. \Ve
say, thus, in lo.ose language, that the subject or theme of
a discourse, the design of which is to awaken " hope,'
Properly speaking, this is the
is the affection itself-hope.
obj ect of the discourse, while the th ~ me embraces th~ con·
siderations presented for the purpose of awakening the
affection.

§ 191. The form of the discourse in excitation will
vary according as the theme or the feeling addressed,
is made the germ of the development. If the feeling addressed furnish the germ, the discourse will be
more purely excitatory in its character; if the theme,
the discourse will have more of an explanatory form.
In a pulpit dircourse, thus, the passion of Jesus Christ
might be exhibited as a single fact fitted to excite various
emotions, as of .gratitude, love, confidence. In this case the
. develupment uf the discourse would more naturally spring

136

INTROD UCTORY VIEW.

EXCITATION.

from the parllcular feelings addressed. They would constitute a.ccordingly the leading heads of the discourse.
On the other hand, the same fact might be exhibited as
bearing, in several distinct aspects, on a single emotion or
grace of character. Then these several aspects of the fact
would more naturally furnish the ground of distribution and
anangement in the discourse.
So in Panegyrics, sometimes, th e character as one complex whole or a single featur e is presented with the
design of moving th e affections generally; and sometimes
a single affection is addressed by the exhibition of such traits
as are adapted to awaken it.

§ 192. In excitation it is more n ecessary than in
explanatory or argumentative discourse to have regard to the feelings of tho;;e addressed; since ignorance or mistake here may occasion an entire failure
jn t(!:: very obj ect of the discourse.
§ 193. The mind addressed may be ei ther favorable
or unfavorable or indifferent in respect to the object
of t1!e speaker.
If the,mind be favorable or indifferent, the object
may be directly presented with exhibitions of feeling
corresponding in degree to the state of feeling in the
hearer.
§ 194. If the mind addressed be influenced by a
feeling opposed to that which the speaker desires to
awaken, great caution is necessary in undertaking to
remove it, as a direct opposition will generally only
irritate or inflame it the more.
The allaying of such unfavorable feeling may be
accomplished indirectly by first exhibiting such views

137

of the object as will not so directly oppose the existing state of feeling and then, as interest shall be
awakened, by passing gradually to other views more
favorable to the object of the speaker.
Or other feeling~, in their nature incompatible with
those to be allayed, and yet not directly opposed to
them, may be awakened and thus the unfavorable
feelings be displaced.
The speeches of Anthony in the Julius Cmsar of Shakspeare
furnish fine exemplifications of the first of these methods of
allavirio- an unfavorable slate of feeling. Anthony finds
. "
th e populace triumphing ov er the death of Cmsar and cheer~
ing the conspirators. He does not at once present himself
in opposition. He appears, at first, as the friend of Brutus . .
He disclaims all intentions of-praising Cxsar. He thus gets
their attention; fixes it on Cresar and th en proceeding to
speak of hi> faults grad ually passes to <l ef~nd his character,
at the Eame time, mingling in high profess10ns of respect for
the conspirators, till finally, the rage of the hearers at Cmsar's
usurpa.tions and tyranny ha ving been allayed, he presents
the proper matter for turning their feelings in the opposite
direction, and leaves them r.lamoring furiously for the destruction of all Cresar's enemies.
In Brutus' speech just preceding, th e second of the methods
indicated is exemplified, and th e lov e of th e populace for
Cmsar is artfully displaced by th eir lov e to their country; a
sentiment, as here exhibited, incompatible with attachment
to Cresa r.

12"

138

EXCITATION.

THE THEME.

be contented ·with this; but will eHr aim to present distinctly the particular object in reference to which the feelings are to be moved.

CHAPTER II.
OF THE THEME IN EXCITATION.

§ 195. As the theme in excitation is a conception
1
§ 123, it must ever appear under that form.

§ 197. The general principle that governs in rega rd
to the statement of the proposition in excitation is
this: that clearness of apprehension and impressiveness require the statement, unless reasons are seen lo
exist which forbid.

If, consequently, a judgment or truth be presented
as the object in reference to which the feelings are to
be viewed, it will appear in the form of a dependent
and not of a principal clause.
Generally language will allow the expression of a fact or
truth, when used as a theme, in discourse, either in the form
of a v~rb or of a noun. We may equally represent the
theme, "the death of Christ," under this form or under
the form, "That Christ died." The latter form turns the
mind more directly and unequivocally on the fact as an actual occurrence; and, when this is desired, this form is preferable to the other.

It is of
ate fo_rm;
- drawn off
exhibition

ad vantage to represent the theme in its approprias, otherwise, the mind might unconsciously be
to a proof of the fact or truth instead of a simple
of it for the purpose of exciting feeling.

§ 196. The theme, in excitation, farther, must embrace the object of the feeling addressed.
· Although men may, possibly, be excited to a blind passion,so to speak, that is, be aroused by sympathy or otherwise
in reference to no distinctly apprehended object, it can yet
never be regarded as a proper aim of rational discourse to
produce such unintelligent excitement. It is true, indeed,
that the passions never move, except as addressed through
the intell ect, and even in the ravings of a mob there is
some intellectual perception, still rational discourse will not

139

,

,
I

I
I

The question has been much agitated, whether it be proper at all to avow before hand addresses to the feelings.
Some writers have disapproved of all such avO\rnls altogether.
"The first and most im portant point to be observed in every
address· to any passion, sentiment, feeling, &c., " says Dr.
vVhately, "is that it should not be intro<luce<l as such, and
plainly avowed; otherwise the effect will be, in great measure
if not entirely, lost. -i< -i< When engaged in reasoning, properly so called, our purpose not only need not be concealed,
but may, without prejudice to the effect, be distinctly declared; on the other hand, even when the feelings we wish
to excite are such as ought to operate, so that there is no
reason to be ashamed of the endeavor thus to influence the
hearers, still, our purpose ;nd drift should be. if not absolutely concealed, yet not openly declared, and made prominent." Even when the sentiments to be awakened ~re recognized as proper and right, he thinks "men are not likely
lo be pleased with the idea that they are not already sufficiently under the influence of such sentiments," and" cannot
but feel a degree of mortification in making the confession,
and a kind of jealousy of the apparent assumption of superiority, in a speaker, who seems to say, ' now I will exhort
yo\1 to feel as you ought on this occasion; "I will endeavor
to inspire you with such noble and generous and amiable
sentiments as ·you ought to entertain.' "

140

THE

EXCITATION.

It must be admitted that such avowals of intention are to
be rejected on every principle of correct taste. But it is
difficult to see in what respect they are more faulty than
precisely similar a vo1rnls of intention in pure argumentative
or explanatory disco urse; as " I will instruct you to think
in ,accordance with truth on this subject"; "I will endeavor
to con1·ince you of the truth on this question." The whole
force of the objection lies not against the thing itself the statement of the theme and object of the discoursebut against an improp er f orm of stating it.
It certainly cannot be laid down as a universal rule that,
in an address to the feelings, it must ever be wrong to state
the subject in respect to which the feelings are to be :moved.
That in pronouncing a eulogy it should be improper for the
speaker to inform the audience, at the outset, of the subject
of the eulogy in reference to which their feelings of admiration are to be excited; that in endeavoring to inspire sentiments of confidence and courage it should be improper for
a statesman to mention before hand those circumstances
and facts which warrant confidence and tend to awa ken
· courage; that in seeking to strengthen the sentiment of
christian gratitude for the blessings of the gospel, it should
be improper for the preacher distinctly to propose the subject,
as the richness or the fre eness of those blessings in reference
to which the sentiments of gratitude are to be called forth,
no one surely can maintain.
How can it appear more improper to add, also, that the
particular subject is to be presented with a view to awaken
suitable feelings of admiration, confidence, or gratitude, &c.
-in oti1er words, to state the design of the discourse? What
impropriety can there be in a christian preacher's distinctly
stating that he proposes the gift of Jes us Christ to men as a
· ground and rea son of gratitude to God? Who will venture

TfIE~IE.

141

to reprehend the following statement of D emosthenes in his
second Philippic: "First, the~, Athenian s, if there be a
man who feels no apprehension at the vie1v of Philip's
power, and the extent of his conquests, who imagines th<tt
these portend no design to the state, or tliat his designs are
not all aimed against you, I am amazed! and must entre<tt
the attention of you all while I explain those re<1sons briefly
which induce me to entertain differ ent expectations."
It is difficult to perceive on what different ground add resses to the feeiings stand in this respect from addresses
to the understanding or reason. While in both kinds of
address, in some cases, it may be unadvisabl e to state beforehand the subject or the object, and while propriety" is ever
to be observed in the manner of statement, it cannot, any more
in one kind than in the other, be laid down as a universal
principle that such statements should be avoided. In b oth
kinds 1 the speaker mii~ t consuit foe ,relation of the subj ect
or object · to the supposed state of feeling in his audie nce,·
and by that dete rmine as to the expediency of disti nc tly
pre;;enting or withholding the subj ect or obj ect of th e discon-rse.

• · § 198. If, however, the subj ect itself is likely to give
offense, then it m a y, in part or in whole, be k ept back
till interest is awa kened and a favorable disposition on
the part of the hearers secured.
§ 199. If the subject be not likely to g·ive offense
but the feelings already entertained by the h earers in
regard to it are opposed to the speaker's aim, the sub. ject may be stated but the particular obj ec t suppressed.
This rule is exemplified m the speech of Anthony before
alluded to, § 194.
§ 200 .. It may be well, moreover, for the sake of

142

EXCITATION.

·securing variety, especially in a speaker who is called
frequently to address the same audience, occasionally
to deviate from the gen~ral rule.

PATHETIC E.X:PL_ANATION.

143

pathetic explanation, to the design of the discourse, whether

it be to produce an immediate and temporary effect; or to
excite and confirm a permanent and controlling sentiment.

If the latter, then care must be taken to communicate such

CHAPTER III.
OF PATHETIC EXPLANATION.

§ 201. The exhibition of feeling in excitation is

governed by the general principles of explanatory discourse; but is modified by the particular design in this
species of discourse of moving the feelings. It is effected
by any of the various processes of explanation,.viz:
Narration, Description, Analysis, Exemplificatio1~, or
Comimrison G.!-;.:l C.:mtrast.
As the ultima te aim in exciiation is not to enlighten or inform the und erstanding, but to do this only for the sake of
exciting the feelings, the process of explanation will need
here to be cqrried on in a somewliat different manner from
that appropriate- to purely explanatory discourse. The principal rn odific'1;tions, wliich this difference in the ultimate aim
of the discourse will re(1uire, wi ll be specified in the follow·
ing sections.

§ 202. As an accurate acquaintance with the object
is not the particular aim in excitation, the first modification of the general principles of explanation demanded here is, that only those points or features in
the object be selected which are adapted to the feelings
or sentiments to be awakened.
Some rel?ard ml1st be had, in applying this principle of

n view of the object as will be retained. in the memory, and
thus be long present to influence the feelings. In at.her words,
the explanation must be more full and complete, and con·
fo rm more closely to the general principles of explanatory
disco nrse. Thus, that kind of preaching which gives clrar,
foll and rational exhibitions of religious truth, will be better
adapted to secure a permanent high degree of christiau feeling th a n that which, by selecting only the more striking
views, aims at the highest degree of excitement at the moment. ·
The speech of Anth ony may be again cited h ere as affording a happy exempli fication of this principle in producing a
hi&J:! immediate excitement. In exhibiting the character of
Cresar, he only selects those features which were adapted
to stir up a strong passionate regret for his death, and a
stormy indignation against the conspirators. He artfully
alludes to his public largesses, his sympathy with the poor,
his rejection of the proffered diadem, and especially to his
love of the people as shown in his will.

§ 203. A second rule in pathetic explanation is,
that particular rather than general views be taken of
the object.
As vivid rather than correct impressio ns are aimed at in
excitation, the process of explanation will need to be modified so far as ·to secure those strong and lively apprehensions ,
which are necessary to deep emotion.

§ 204. Thirdly, pathetic explanation requires thatthe
· r:iore prominent and striki~ig features and outlines be

144

EXCITATION.

SY:\IPATHY•

presented; while such as are less easily apprehended, ·
however important in an accurate representation to
the understanding merely, are dropped from view.

of the object of feeilng itself, somethi ng connected with it
-as causes, effects, results and the like-is presented, anu
from that the hearers are left to conjecture the r eal character
of the obj ect. It should be observed !m e, that there is rombined with this appeal to th e imagination to aicl the effect,
a figure of speech. The speaker seems to shrink, as feeling
himself inadequate to the tas k, from the direct exhibition of
the object.
The ter rors of the desolation caused by the
irrup tion of Hyd er Ali coulcl hard ly be more vividly represented than they were by Burke in simply pointing to a single
result. " \tVhen," he says, "the British armies traversed as
they did, the Carnatic for hundreds of miles in all directions,
through the whole line of their march th ey did not see one
man, not one woman, n ot one child, not one four-footed
beast of any description whatever:·,,

The following extract from Sheridan's Invective against
"\Varren Hastings will serve to exemplify this rule. The
orator, instead of going through an orderly detail of the sufferings of the oppressed nations of India, merely presents
one or two of the most prominent features in the scene of
desolation and horror. " \Vhen we hear the description of
the paroxysm, fever and delirium into which despair had
thrown the natives, when on the banks of the polluted
Ganges, panting for death, they tore more widely open the
lips ' of their gaping wonnds, to accelerate their dissolution,
and, while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly
eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer, that
the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their blood, but
that it might ris e up to the throne of God, and rouse the
eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of th eir country,
·will it be said that this was brought about by the incantations of these Begums in their secluded Zenana ?"

CHAPTER IV.

§ 205. Fourthly, instead of the clear and distinct
exhibitions which are proper in mere a ddresses to the
understanding, it is often conducive to passionate impressiveness to leave something to the imagination of
the hearers, by only obscure and imperfect delinea-·
tions.
Anthony, instead of a t once telling the citizens how
much C~sar in his will had ordered to be distributed among
the people, set their imaginations all on fire by only vague
and obscure intimations of the richness of the legacy.
The aid of the imagination in heightening the effect of
passionate r epresentati on is likewise employed when, instead

145

OF THE EMPLOYMENT OF

SYMPATHY IN EXCITA·

TION.

§ 206. It is indispensable i_
n excitation that the

speaker himself appear to be affected in the same way
in which he wishes his audience to be affected, and,
likewise, to a degree: at least, as high.

.

•

This is a principle every where recognized. The lines of
Horace are familiar to all:
U t ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent
Humani vultus, Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Pdmum ipsi tibi.
Emotion is necessa ry in the speaker not only because the

13

146

147

EXGl'lv'l.TtON.

SYMPATHY.

nbset1ce o. it wuuld re;.der all effo rts to excite feeling in the
audie:1ce fo :iJ , ; but because, from the law of sympathy,
emotiun i,s cJ nirr.u;,ic3t ed directly fruni one bosom to another.
Shakspeare had a just conception uf human nature when he
put the fullo11 ing words iutu the lip& of Anthony:

lows the passion to appJar in its own natural form and
way.
§ 208. In the indirect expression of passion, the
speaker, instead of giving vent to his emotions in the
natural ways of expression, and making a free exhibition of them, veils them in pa rt and only suffe rs occasional glimpses of them to be seen.

Passio .1, l see, is catching; for mine eyes,
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
Began to water.
In all pathetic discourse, the speak er must manifest the
suitable kind and degree of feelin g in all the po~sible modes
of expressi ng it; in the form of th e thought, th e hnguage,
the voice, countenance, and gesture. To secure this, he
must feel himself. Hypocritical expressions of feeling will
seldom escape detection. The human breast instinctively
discerns between true and false emotion. E\•en trained
stage-actors, when they succeed perfectly in th eir art, are
infected thems elves by the passion, the contagion of which
they wish to extend to the specta tors. ''"For the time they
feel as if they were, in reality, the characters they personate.
They accomplish this, perhaps, the most difficult attainment
of their art, by a close and thorough study of the causes of
feeling supposed to operate in th e scene which they represent.
Mere natural sensibility, although not indispensable, is not
enough.
The heart, by close contemplation, must be ,
brought into contact with the obj ect of feeling. The speaker
and the writer need equally to kindle the fire of feeling in
themselves by long and close contemplation of the truth to
be expressed in the discourse.

§ 207. The modes of expressing passion in discourse
are direct or indirect.
In the direct exhibition of feeling the speaker al-

In this indirect expression of fee li ng, the power of imag in·
ation is caljjd in aid, see ~ 205. The hearers observ e, by
the gl eams throug h the di sg uise here and th ere, n Ii re of
passion in g low; but obtaining no definit e deter mina tio n of
th e extent and d eg ree, it appears to them th e m ore d ee p and
strong; as the ou tlines of obj ects seen in th e mi st, being indetermi nate, the im ag ina tion easily swells them in to monsters . Su.cl1 partial erupti ons of p assion are common in r eal
life, and often impress more derply than the pnre an d unsu ppressed overflow of fee li ng. The mourner in public, observing th e proprieties of condllct, wh o on ly all ows a brok en sob
to escape h er, moves the h eart of sympathy more d eeply
than do even conlinLted and un chec ked wailings and loud
la mentations. The man iac du el ist, who wo uld brea k suddenly away from any pu rsu it he was engaged in, as if forced
by some d emon of passion, and, pacing off a certain distance on the fl oor, r epeat the sig 11ilicant wo rd s, "one, t wo,
three , fir e ; h e' s dead ;" then, wring his ha nds and turn
abruptly to his former pursuits, gave a more touching exhibition of the deep ngony which was ever preying on his
spirit, than if he had vented i t in constant howlings of remo rse. It is with that admirable insight into nature a nd
conformity to truth which has before been noticed, that
Shaksoeare thus makes Anthony give but occasional signs
I
,
.
.
of g 1·i~f fLr Cresar's dea th. \ V hil e generally the passion is

- 148

INT!tOl> UCTION ANI>

EXCITATION .

~uppressed, now and then it seems to force itself out; and
this very circumstance, that it seems forc ed, makes it appear
stronger and deeper. Thus he apologi z ~s for any escape
of sorrow, and tells the citize ns that he cannot properly
allow the true aod adequate expression of his fe elings.
Bear wi th me·
My heart is in the coffin there with C res:r ·
And I must p.iuse till it come back to me. '

14.9

CHAPTER Y.
OF THE

INTRODUCTION

AND

PERORATION lN EX-

CITATION.

§ 210. Excitation admits both kinds of lntroJuc-

tion ; the E xpl a natory and th e Conciliatory.
In referen ce to the management of th e Introduction Expla na tory see § § 118, 176.
The Introduction Concilii,tory will require in pathetic
discourse peculiar atte ntion and care ; as it is more importnnt here than in explanation or contirmation to secure a farnr able disposition toward s th e speaker on th e part of the
hearers. Where, especially, cit her the speaker is him self personally repulsiv e to th em, or . his subj ect offensi ve, or the
sentiment which he would a waken incompatible with their
)>resent fe elings and views, he has need to make the best

0 ro asters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hear ts and mind~ to mu tiny. and • a"e
0 ,
I should do Brutus wrono-,
and
Cassius
wroncr
o
o'
Who, you all know, are honorable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rath er choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wron g such honorable men.
This partial disguising of passion on th e part of th e sp.eaker
has this fur ther ad va ntage, that the determinati on beincr left
to th e imagination of the hearer, it ca n never seem t~ tho
latter disproportionate- either too weak or too strong.

use of his powe r and skill.
The la ws which go vern path etic discourse generally will
come in also to regulate and modify the Introduction, and

§ 209. The degree of feeling expressed by the
speaker must ever be modera ted in reference to the
supposed feelin gs of the hearer.
Unless there may app ear to the audience a probabl e cause
of strong fe eling , as was the case in th e first oration of
Cicero ag ainst C ataline, the speaker should comm ence wit4
only n moderate degree of pass ion; and should suffer it to
increase only in proporti on as it m11y seem natural to the
audience. He must of course ever keep in advance of th em.
but must take care never to g et beyond th e reach of tb ci;
sympathy. The effect of this will be not only to annihilate
the whole power of sympathy; but also to occasion dissatis ..
faction and disgust.
·
·
.. '

l' F. ltOIU.TION.

especially when it is of the conciliatory kind.

§ 211. E xcitation admits only the e.1:citatory or

71athetic, and the p ersuasive forms of p eroration, with

tl1e r ecapitulation.

.

The explanatory and confirmatory forms of peroration are .
inadmissible here, because addresses to the pure intellect
can never properly come after an address to the fe elings.
C ertainly, to close a dis oo urse, the obj ect and aim of which
is to awaken a certain kind or degree of feeling with cold
intellectual inferences or remarks is to defeat the very design
of the discourse. Even the form of recapitulation, when
introduced, must conform to the peculiar principles of

13-1<

-

i50

EXCITATtdN.

.

.

pathetic discourse; and will differ somewhat from that ap•
propriate to explanation or confirmation. The aim of the
peroration here must be to m::ike a more direct or specific
application of the subject to the f~eling.s addressed; or to
make the excitemen t of feelings effected in the discourse as
its main object conducive to some action of the will, ·

PART I V.-PERSUASION.

,
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL INTRODUCTORY

vn::w.

§ ~12. In persuasion, the object of discmnse Is to
move the will ; either by leading it t.o a new act or
purpose, or by dissuading it from one already adopted.
P ersuasive discourse is, in . this, clearly and definitely
disting uished from the species already considered. Explanatory discourse respects as its end a new conception; Confirmatory, a new conviction; Pathetic, a new feeling; Persuasiv i;, a new action or purpose. This classification, evidently, covers the field. If there are a ny other sp e<.:ies of
discourse, founded on the immediat.e object to be accomplished in the mind addressed, it must be a subdivision oi one
of th ose enumerated; unl ess, indeed, mental science reveal
new classes of phenomena in the mind of man not included
in th ose of the Intellect, the Sensibilities and the \Viii.

§ 213. As the mind addressed may be in either one
of three different states-may be already decided in
purpose, but may n eed confirmation, or although decided, may be decided in the opposite direction, or without any choice, or voluntary preference in regard to
the subject; the specific objects of the discourse will
vary in different cases, unrl. the discourse be modified
in reference to th e~e difTcrcnt specific ends.

152

INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

PERSUASION.

Persuasion, thus; differs specifically from dissuasion, as
well as from e.11cauragement or animation; although the
general means to be employed are the same in the different
cases. The di!ference in the specitic process will consist
mainly in the arrangement and means of conciliating and
explaining.

§ 214. The specific objects of persuasive discourse
admit of a still further division in reference to the character of the action proposed; whether an individual ·
act or a controlling purpose-a determination to do a
particular thing or the adoption of a principle of conduct having respect to a series of acts or a course of
life.
,
Hence will arise another specific diversity in the conduct
of the disco urse. \Vhen a permanent state of wil l is aimed
at, it is evident, those considerations are tci have the preeminence which will rema in in the rnind,-in other words,
truths addressed to the und erstanding or reason. Where,
on the other hand, the object of the discou rse is to produce
a merely temporary effect, as that of a general exhorting his
soldiers on the eve of a battle, those motives w hie h respect
more directly the feelings as the immediate incentives to
action, wi ll have th e prefe rence.
It will often be the case that both obj ects will be combined; that the sp eaker wi ll aim to bring his hearers not
only to adop t a general course of conduct or pursuit, but
also to commit themselv es to it at the moment by some particular act. The Temperance reform ers, thus, in seeking to
induce and secure a permanent reform, press the inebriate
to an immediate committal by some parti cular act, as sign·
ing a pl edge or th e like. In this case, th e principles of con•
duct will need t;J be unfolded clea rly and convincingly to
the un:l ersfnnrli 11g-, a :i cl, nlso, to the fe elings.

153

§ 215. The work of persuasion is effected by THE
lo be cho·
sen, and THE PRESENTATION OF MOTIVES tilted to
incite to the determination proposed.
EXHIBITION OF THE ACTION OR COURSE

The work of persuasion, thus, admits all the processes before described of explanation, conviction, and exci tation .
The act to be done will often need to be explained. The
christian preacher will need, th us, in ord er to mak e liis ex
horlation etfectual, to explain the nature of the duty proposed,
as faith, repentance, and the like. The statesman will lik~
wise need to unfold the course of policy he desires to be
adop ted to th e clear apprehension of his hearers; as a failure
to unde rstand what is to be done must so far be nn ins nperuble obstacle to decision. The process of explanation will
also often be req uisite in the presentation of moli vcs.
It may be necessary, moreover, to convince the judgment
i n persuasion. The action proposed must be shown to be
4

·practicable;

Ol"

tlw motives presented to be true and real

and pertinen t.
E 1citatio n, once more, is ofte n requi site in pers uasion, as
the passions are the more i mmediate springs of a ction.
All these proce.>ses, ho wever, receive a slight modification
in reference to th e ultimate encl of pers uasion; <111d must be
introduced only in entire subs erviency to that end-the
moving of the will.

§ 216. The theme in persuasion is ever a conception which embraces the m otive or motives a ddressed
to the activity to he awakened.
§ 217. The more general unity of persuasive discourse consists in the singleness of the motive or class
of motives addressed to the various activities of the

154

.

165

l'E RSU ASION.

PERSUASIVE EXPLANATION.

hearer; the narrower w1ity, in the singleness of the action itself.
According as the motil'c or the action to be prompted by
it is adopted as affording the principle of development and
arrangement, the discourse will be modified specifically in
its form and be more or less strictly persuasive in its character. If the theme, which here embraces the motives presented, furnish the principle of devel opment, the discourse
will be more explanatory in its character. If the action proposed be made the germ of development, the discourse will
be of a more strictly persuasive nature.

pos1t1ve reasons be seen to exist against it. If the
general subject of the discourse be supposed likely to
give offense, the definite statement of both the subject
nnd the action may be deferred to the end, or be gradually unfolded in the progress of the discourse, as the
minds of the hearers may be prepared for it.
If the subject be not offensive but the action proposed be likely to be repugnant to the feelings of the
hearers, the subj ect may be stated and the action upon
it proposed be for a while concealed from view.
A variation from the usual method of proceeding in
this case, may be justified sometimes, moreover, for the
sake of variety, or on other similar grounds.

CHAP'l'ER Il.

It is unnecessary to detail at any further length th e diverse
applications of these general prindples according as the motive or the action itself is made the principle of development
in the discourse.

.

OF THE TI-tEME IN PERSUASION.

§ 218. The theme in persuasive discourse being ever
f\. conception/ ~ 1231 m11st always appear und<;: r that

form.
As the discourse will l'ary specifically in its form according as the motive or th e action be made the ge rm of development, it become> important that the speaker settle definitely in his own mind before hand which shall preside
over the arrangement and development, and govern himself by the decision in the whole conduct of the discourse . .

§ 219. The question, whether the proposition should
be stated, is to be determined by the same general
principles which govern in the other species of discourse.
The general rule is that it should be stated unless

CHAPTER III.
OF PERSUASIVE EXPLANATION, CONFIRMATION" AND
EXCITATION.

§ 220. In Persuasive discourse, the various processes
of explanation may be requisite either to set forth the
proper subject of the discourse or the action proposed
to be effected by it, § 215.
§ 221. In the explanation of the subject, the applieation of the principle-s of explanation proper, must
be modified so far a~ may be necessary in order to ex·

1!5tJ

PERSUASIVE

PEltStJ'ASlON.

hibit it merely as a ground or reason, or motive :of atti on.
H ence !he subject will not neces sarily be sur veyed in its
whole extent. Only those aspects will be taken of it which
bear direcl.I y on th e nclion proposed; anri of th ese, while at
the same tim e false impressions in r egard to th e stale of the
case are to be guarded against, only such should he presented as are favorable to the speaker's object. Great art and
practiced jlid gment are oft en requis ite here.
Exemplifications of th ese methods of modifying the principles of ex p lanat iun prop er, arc furni 3hed in the oratians of
Demost henes against Philip. The orator in them with great
skill seizes hold of th ose particulars in the relati ons of the
Athenians to th e Macedonian power, and in the condition of
Ath ens, which were fitted to inspire th e Athenians··wil.h confidenc e in their own strength, and with contempt a nd resentment towards Philip, that he might thus incite them to a
vigorous and efficient maintenan ce of hostilities. The ex·
planations tha t are given, whether narrations of events or
descriptions of places, of r esources, &c., are all made from
this ooe point of view; and are colored throughout by this
one persuasive character. Nothing is said that does not
b ear directly on this single end; nothing is omitted that
could promote it. Th e processes of explanation, it is however pertinent to observe here, arc all very different from
what would be proper in a purely ex planatory discourse;
very different, for example, from what are found in the
histories of those times.
,
It ~hould be remark ed, in this connection, that it will fre· ·
quently be necessary tu construct the explanation in persuasive di scourse in refe ren ce both to the motives and the action; as poss ibly the na ture of the action may best be
derstood from a cl cur v icw of the mot ives.

EXPLANATIO~ .

157-

§ 222 . . The explanation of the particular action
urged in the discourse will conform more closely to
the general principles of explanation. Since, generally it will be needful to give a clear idea of the nature of the action proposed.
§ 223. Confirmation enters into persuasive discourse
whenever it is necessary to prove any allegation in
reference to the th eme, the practicability of the actiou
proposed, or the connection between the motives antl
the action. Like explanation, in persuasive discourse,
confirmation suffers important modifications.

It is not necessary to point out in particular detai l th e
modifications which confirmation proper recei ves in persuasion.

It is sufficient to r emark generally that tl1 e whol e

work of confirmation here is i"egulated by a strict regard to
'the g r eat object of the discourse, which is to move the w ill.
Fine exemplifications of persuasive co nfirmation may be
found in many of th e politi cal orations of D emosth enes ; the
speeches of Lord Chatham, Burke, Sheridan and Patri ck
Henry.

§ 224. E xcitation is necessary in persuasive dis -

course so far as the excitement of the feelings is relietl
upon for influencing the will. Like explana tion and
confirmation, however, it is modified in important features in respect to the particular end of persuasion.
Only such feelings are to be awakened, and those to
such degrees only, as are fitted to lead to the action
desired.
It is important to be borne in mind in persuasive excita·
tion, that the sa me object may awaken two or more different ·
kinds of _feelings, some of which may be favorable to the

14

158

l\IOTIVES .

PERSUASION.

end proposed, and others ad verse. Thus the increase of the
Macedonian power, the multiplicity of its conquests and alJj•.
ances, were fitted tci excite the fear as well as the resentment
of the Athenians. It was necessary, therefore, that the orator, whose desig n was to arouse the Athenians to a bold and
vigorous prosecution of the war against Philip, should give
only such a view of Philip's successes as would excite indignation and not desponding alarm. The orator is careful,
according Iy, to attribute all these successes to fortune and
to the supineness of the Athenians, artfully keeping back
those causes of his prosperity which might awaken terror
and thereby dispose the Athenians to an inglorious peace.

159

§ 227. Actions are often induced by mere views of

truth. H ere are to be found convictions of duty, of
interest, of fitness and congruity, and the like.
The work of pers uasion thus often consists merely in producing these states in the understanding or practical reason.

§ 228. The second class of motives includes those
which lie in the senses, as appetites and pleasures of
sense generally ; the affections or sentiments, whether
person al or social, as joy, grief, love, hatred, disg ust,
and the like ; and the emotions proper, or those states
of soul which are awakened by views of what is true,
beautiful, right and good.
To this class belongs, also, that common and principal motive which lies in :sympathy.

§ 229. The third class co~sist~ of permanent generic

CHAPTER IV.
OF l\IOTIVES.

§ 225. By a motive is meant whatever occasions or
induces free action in man.
In strictness, motives are conditions on which the free
self-activity is called forth in some one or other of its various
specific forms.

§ 226. Motives may be distributed into several ·
classes in reference to the department of mind in which
they respectively have their seat.
There are thus, First, Those seated .in the intellect, :
mere conceptions or convictions ;
Ii

Secondly, 'I'hose which are seated in· the susceptibilities of the mind ;
. · . ·· 1
Thirdly, Those which arise from voluntary states. J

states of the will.
The nat ur e of this class 0f motives as distinguished from
tbe others, may be tlms illu st~ated . If a miser in passing
should observe a person in extreme suffering, and at the
sight sho uld thrust his hand into bis pocket and hand out a
shilling, \\"e should not hesitate to ascribe the act to the
natural affectioa of pity or compassion as th e motive cause.
If, again, in passing on, he should observe a customer whose
patronage it would be for his interest to secure, and should
tender him an invitation to dinner, we should attribute this
act to his purpose of accumulating money as the motive
cause. His governing purpose to acquire wealth rules him
in this step; and wliile the former act of charity possesses
necessarily no moral character,-proves him neither a good
nor a bad man, but merely a man-the latter act is an indication of character, inasmuch as it 'hows a govern ing putpose.

160

PERSUASION.

ACTS OF

The last cl~ss of motives are the only ones which can be denominated morally right or wrong. The others have no such
moral character, and, consequently, impart none to the act
which they prompt.
The motives of this class include all those which are embraced under the general term, consistency, so far as it applies to action. Vile appeal to a man to adopt a certain
course or perform a certain ad on the ground of consistency,
when we u r15e it either because it is necessarily involved iu
a more generic purpose or course already adopted by him,
as when we urge him to vote for a measure necessary to
carry out the principles he has maintained, or because to
decline it would be incompatible with another specific
· course or policy he is already purst:ing. In the former case,
the motive is obviously one of the class under considei'at.ion.
In the latter ca1e, it is really, if not so apparently, of tliis
class: since there is an implication of a principle in the
course adopted which is common to it and the action urged;
otherwise, there would be no inconsistency between the tiro.
§ 230. It is to be remarked respecting these dii1cre.nt
classes of motives, that while thr first may influence
the will in<l~pendcntly of the others, the second and
third classes always presuppose the first; since there
can be no feeling or state except upon some truth perceived. Moreover, a voluntary motive may include a
feeling and also a perception or judgment.

PT::P.S-UASlON~

l61

CHAPTER V.
OF SPECIFIC ACTS OF PERSUASION.

persua~ion, is applied in its
more general import to all those kinds of discourse the
object of which is to move the will, in its narrower
sense it is distinguished from both dissuasion and incitement.
As thus distinguished, PERSUASION, in its more restricted sense, will regard the production of a new purpose or act. ;
DrssuAsION, the removal <_>fa pmpose or act already
determined upon ;
INCITEMENT, confirmation of a purpose or course
lHready adopted.

§ 231. While the term,

§ 232. Although these several acts of persuasion are
effected by the general processes mentioned, of exhibition of the act or course to be adopted and the presentation of suitable motives, yet these processes will be
considerably modified in reference to these several more
specific ends.

CHAPTER VI.
.,

OF ARRANGEMENT JN PERSUASION •

. . .
~

§ 233. The principles of arrangement in persuasion
will vary according as the motives or the action pr~
posed is made the leading principle in the developmeIJ,t
of the discourse. § 217.
14"

\

162
It is obvlotis that a speaker in persuasion may make tl1e
ac tion to which he wishes to incite his hearers the proper
germ of development in his discourse, which he may exhibit
eitlier in its various parts or its relations. In this case,
the arrangement will be for the most part conformed to the
principles of explanatory arrangement. The action will be
exhibited in its parts, and the motives applied to each in
succession.
On the other hand, it may be better in some cases, and
perhaps generally, to make the motives the principle of development and arrangement. · When this is done, the rules
stated in the following sections are to guide.

§ 234. In the presentation of motives in persuasive
discourse, three things are to be regarded :
First, the specific object of the discourse, whether
persuasion in its strict sense, dissuasion, or incitement ;
Secondly, the comparative strength of the motives
estimated in reference to the mind addressed ;
Thirdly, the relation of the motives to one another.

§ 235. If the specific object of the discourse be persuasion p1'6pei·, it is evident that those motives which
lie in perceptions and convictions of the intellect should
precede; and when the understanding is properly enlightened and convinced; the way will be open for the
addresses to the feelings. In case the action proposed
is embraced within the general course or purpose
already adopted by the mind addressed, it will often
at the outset be stifficient to prove this. If, however,
it be an act repulsive in itself, although conducive to a
chosen end, it will be advisable to animate that
general purpose in reference to this specific application·

INTRODUC1'10N AND I'EilORATION.

163

of it at the close, in order to give it efficiency in the
direction desired.
In persuasion proper, moreover, the stronger motives
should be presented first. ·
. § 236. On similar grounds, the same rules of arrangement are to be observed in dissuasion as in persuasion proper.
In this case, more caution is necessary, as, instead of indifference merely, direct opposition is to be encountered.

§ 237. In Incitement, the weaker motives should
generally be presented first, and the discourse be closed
with such as are fitted to incit.e to the highest degree
of determination.
§ 238. The principle which respects the relatiou of
the motives to one another is to be observed for the
most part only in subordination to the other t\\·o.

In as much as every thing unnatural is ad verse to the
highest end of persuasion, motives that are closely connected
with each other should not be disconnected, even when the
second principle named, that which respects the strength of
the motive, may in itself require it. Much less should arguments that are presupposed in others be postponed, even
although the other principles may demand it.

CHAPTER VII.
OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN PER•
.SUASION.

§ 239. Both kinds of Introduction, the Preparatory
and the Conciliatory, in their several varieties, are admissible in Persuasive Discourse.

164

PERSUASION.

The same cautions and suggestions are needful here aa
·were presented in the corresponding chapter on E~citation.
Part III. chap. v.
§ 240. Only the Persuasive Peroration with the
Recapitulation is admissible in this kind of discourse.

· Persuasive Discourse should ever leave the mind addressed
ready for the action proposed and urged in it. Where the
body of the discourse has consisted of the exhibition of the
motives, and, for any reason, the particular action has been
suppressed, it will of course be necessary to state the
action at the close. This, for a single example, was done
by Demosthenes in his oration generally denominated the
~ Third Philippic. In the main discussion, he unfolds the
conside~ations which should influence the Athenia,ns-the
existing state of affairs; and at the close briefly suggests
what he thinks ought to be done. If the action has constituted the body of the discussion,
the peroration will generally consist of a strong and vivid
exhibition of the motives.
If the action has been stated, but the motives that urge it
have filled up the body of the discourse, the peroration may
be by direct app~al or address, or more close application of
the motives.
Recapitulation is admissible in either case.

SECOND GENERAL DIVISION.

STYLE
GENERAL

VIEW.

CHAPTER I.
OF THE NATURE OF STYLE.

§ 241. S tyle is tha t. part of Rhetoric whi ch treats of
the expression of thought in lang uage.
No process of art is complete until its product appear in
a sensible form, § 8; and language is the form in which
the art of discourse em bodies itself, as sound furnishes the
body of music and color that of the art of painting. Style
is, therefore, a necessary part of the art of i·hetoric. "lnventio sine elocutione non est oratio." It is not, however, ull
of the art, just as the laws of sound do not cover the entire
province of music, or the principles of coloring exhaust the
art of the painter . .
While i~ presupposes Invention a.s a distinct branch of

,NATURE OF STYLE.

166

STYLE.

the art, it is yet involved even in that; as the exercises of
invention cannot proceed without the use of language. The
two branches of the art of Rhetoric, accordingly, while they
may easily be conceiv ed of as distinct, and in practice predominant attention may be given to either at will, are nevertheless bound together by an essential bond of life.
This second di vision of Rhetoric has been variously denominated; and the terms employed to designate it have been
used, sometimes in a wider, sometimes in a more restricted
sense. The term "elocutio11" was formerly more commonly
used by English writers. It was suggested by the use of
the Roman rhetoricians, and was sanctioned and supported
by its etymology. It has, howe ver, in later times become
more commonly appropriated to denote or.1l delivery. The
term "style," although not strictly a technical word, was
us ed by Lalin writers as sy nonymous with "elocution," and
has been, both among English and continental writers, more
generally of late appliec.l. to this use. It has been employed,
ho wever, with more or less latitude o,f meaning. But the
prevailing use of the best writers au thoris.es the appropriation of_the term to denote the entire art of verbal expression.
Cicero and others of the ancient rhetoricians made here,
also, two divi~ions ; the one of elocution or style proper, or
the choice of words in the expression of thought; th e other
of the arrangement of words, or composition. As in invention, however, so perhaps still more obviously in style, there
appears to be no good reason for making this divisionSee § 43.

§ 242. The analysis of style, for the purpose of systematic study, must respect the various classes of properties which by necessi ty or possibility belong to it.
V»e ca:uwt consider style, as we have considered inven-

107

tiori; in reference to the different processes concerned in its
production. For som e of the properties ~f sty le, or modes
of expression are common and necessary rn all kinds of discourse and every expression of th ought, while others are
determined by the nature of the thought itself. If we except
the application of some of the rules of mere grammar, the
only proper method of pursuing the culture of style, must
be by the study of the varieties of forms which thought may
assume when expressed in language, in order th at whate\·er
may secure beauty and force to the expression may be intelligently communicated to it, and whatever may mar or
weaken the expression may be avoided.
Practice, therefore, in this branch of the art, is to be conducted only in reference to the kn own prop.erties of st!le
O'e nera1lv and not by exercises on the specific properties.
It would ~e ridiculous to undertak.e a cQurse of exercises with
the sinO'le view of acquiring command of a class of figures;
0
1 .
or of avoiding a barbarism or a so ec1sm .
At the same time, it may be . a very useful exercise to
detect the. faults in ill-constructed sentences or compositions
designedly prepared or selected for this pn'.·p.ose. Such exercises in grammar are common and benehcrnl. In regard
to some properties of style, however, as .especially those of
naturalness, dignity, and the like, while the fault may
easily be detected, the correction will be diffi cul'.. For ~n
good style the thoughts of the i~di~i~ual appea~ Jn the discourse, tinctured by all his peculrnnties and habits; and the
critic who would correct or improve must throw himself
into the speaker's train of thoughts and associations and
feelings.
;,

I

I

~·,

' ~..

'

lGiS -' GENERAL PROPERTIES.
- >.

.G

CHAPTER II .

'..,; . OF THE GENERAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.
§ 243. The first generic distinction of the properties
of style is into THE ABSOLUTE and THE RELATIVE.

§ 244. THE ABSOLUTE . properties of style are
. founded in the nature and laws of language itself.
THE RELATIVE properties are those which are detennined by the state of the speaker's mind or by that
of the mind addressed.
There are these three things which come in to determine
the character of the expression; the thought to be expressed;
the object for which it is expressed; and the medium of expression.

cordingly. The mere embodying in language of his own
ac
- h
. d
thoughts will not of course accomplish his object mt e_mr_n
addressed. It may be necessary to labor more at persp1cu1ty
in the expression than would be r equisite for the mere utt_erance of thought. He may be under the necessit_y of_consultrng
force or energy in the expression, or of a.dornrng it. Hence
we h~ve· another distinct class of prop erties. They may b~
denominated the relative-objective, or more bri efl y, th e ~b­
Jective properties. The last class corres1_1onds neurly _wit'.'.
Dr. Campbell's "discriminating properties of eloc~t1011: ..
It is the only class which Dr. \Vhately takes into view Ill
his treatise on sty le:

The last of these, language, has laws and properties of
its own which are fixed and invariable, and, as such, independent of the individual speaker who uses it. The proper-:
ties thus determined to style may be denominated t!te absolute properties of style. They correspond for the ~ost part
to what Dr. Campbell calls "the essential properties of elocution." '
Again, language, as the body of thought, is affected by
the state of the speaker's mind. It is not merely the expression of thought, but of his thought. It partakes of his
individuality, and is, as it were, an expression of his life.
\Ve recognize, thus, at once, as a beauty in sty le~ naturaluess in expression. The class of properties thus determined '
to style, may be denominated tlie relative subjective, or,
' more briefly, tlie subjective properties.
Farther, the speaker in pure discourse, speaks to effect
an object in the mind of another. He must necessarily,
therefo~e, hnYe respect to that mind; nnd modify his style

169

·,->

15

.l

-

·~

... --

GEKERAL VIEW OF LANGUAGE.
.

..
..·.

~

.....

·.

-

PART !.-ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL VIEW OF LANGUAGE AND ITS PROPERTIES.

§ 24.5. Language may be defined to be

THE VER-

BAL BODY OF THOUGHT.

Language is not, as sometimes represented m loose expression, the mere dress of thought. It has a vital connection with thought; and is far more truly and appropriately
conceived of as the living, organic body of thongl1t, interpenetrated throughout with the vitality of the thought, as
the natural body with the life of the spirit, lmving living
connections between its parts, giving it unity and making
it a whole, than as a mere dress having no relation to
thought and no organic dependenc.e in its parts.""
" The production of speech proceeds by an internal necessity out
of the organic life of man; for man speaks because he thinks;
and with the production of. thought is given at the same time
the production of speech. It is n general law of lh-ing nature
that each activity in it comes forth into appearance in a material,
each spiritual in a bodily; and in the bodily appearance ha ye their
limitation nnd form. In accordance with this law, the tho~ght
necessarily comes forth also in the appearance, :md becomes embodied in Speech.-0. F. Becker's Organism of Speech, pp. I, 2.
The origin of speech, says Solger to the same effect, is one with
the origin of thought, which is not possible in reality without speech.

171

The embodying of thought into language, must necessarily
be affected by three different things:
First, the material of the body which it takes. Vocal
language differs, in many respects, from a language of signs.
A language, ernn, formed more directly under the influence
of the ear, as for instance the ancient Greek, possesses peculiar features which distinguish it clearly from a language
formed more or less under the influence of the pen. Some of
the characteristics of the English language may be traced to
the fact that the language was developed and formed by
writers as well ns by speakers; by those who were influenced
more by the form of the word as presented to the eye than by
its effect on the ear as a sound. And generally th e nature of
the material out of which the body is formed must evidently
affect the process of embodying. . The m'.lrble gives a different form to the embodiment of the same sentiment or character from that given !i>y colc. r as in painting, or by sound
and lang'nage as in ·poetry and music.
Second l.r, th e r:lrn racter of tli e tiioug ht to be embodied.
The thonght mn st never lose its distinctive character and
life. On the other hand, as the human spirit in i ts fleshly
body, and th e life of a plant in its vegetable structure, it
cnte~s its rnaf erial, disposes it, shapes it, animates it, and
alto.s efhe r de termines its outward form and character.
Thought, in other words, is the organizing element. It, consequently, wh en the process of embodying is perfect, manifests itself in tll"ery part. This is true, more emphatically,
of each particnhtr thought expressed by the individual
speaker in the form of oral language. That thought, as a
Thought is subj ec tive speech, us speech is objective thought-the
outward appearance of thought itself. Neither is pos•ible without
the other; and both reciprocally condition each other.-4esthetics,
p. 265.

-

=

GENERAL VIEW OF LANGUAGE.

·--.· ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

life-giving and disposing element, enters the body of sounds
which is furnished to the individual speaker in the languarre
that he uses, and imposes its own character upon it. But la:.
?uage generally, or the fixed language cif a people is organized so to speak. Its properties are determined by the charac~er of the thought that has, in being expressed, given it
existence. Hence the languages of different nations are different, because the thought that has characterised the nation
at the formation of the language, has been different.
Thirdly, the nafttral relationship between tlwuo}t[ and
. l
b
a_rticu ate s~und. Certain sounds are the natural express10n of certam sensations; other sounds hear a more or less
direct analogy to certain other states of mind.
Farther than this, in the original construction of lan rruao·e
•
c
t>
0 '
outward sensible even ts or objects are taken to represent
mental. s tat~s". For the most part, indeed, language is thus
symbolical rn its 1·ery nature ;-it represents thought throurrh
0
some external object or event either naturally or by <H;ciL!e nt
associated with it. And although, in the progress of sri entific culture, it becomes more and more abstract,-that is,
words having no obvious connection with the thoughts are
used t~ represent them more and more arbitrarily, just as
numerical or algebraical signs represent numbers or mathe1~ atical r elations, still language never loses entirely its origmal symbolical character. It will ever be r egarded, accordingly, as a great excellence of style that the thoug ht is
represented by means of pictures or images of sensible
scenes or events. The sound, then, points to the external
object or event, or some_sensible property or characteristic
of it; and this, again, to the mental state or thourrht which
it i~ tak~n ~o represent. So far, now, as this obj e~ or event
IS htte<l rn its own nature to suggest the thought, the indi~

173

cation- of the thought is more easy; the hnguage is more
perfectly adapt ed to its end.
This two-fold relationship betw 'en thought and th e means
of repres enting it, viz: between th e thought and the sound
on th e one hand, and between the thought and the sensible
object indicated by the sound on the other, we should expect beforehand, would determine to some extent the construction of lang nage; and in point of fact we find it does
so control it to such a degree as to give rise to a class of properties which are considered .necessary or highly auxiliary
to the great ends of language.
This general view of the nature of language furnishes the
ground for the classification of the properties of language
or th e absolute properties of sty le.

l

·t

§ 216. The absolute propr,rtics of style may be distributed into three classes, as they Tespect more directly
the natnrr, of the material of language or articulate
. sounds; the relation of that material to the content
of language or the relation of a rticulate sounds to
thought; or the laws of t.hought itself.
Th ese sc\·eral classes may be denominated THE
ORAL: the SUGGES TIVE and the GRA:VIilIAT ICAL properties of style.
Lungnage, as the verbal body of thought, consists of articuhtr solHHls.
These form the ma ter ial of which it is
made. It is ob vious, heace, that a proper regard to the
es.;ential natme of articulate sounds is esse ntial in the formation of sty le.
Again, it is plain that articulate sounds are not take n at
random for use in speech. All are not equally adapted for
this use; and the selection is not a matter of pure accident
or capricr. On the other hand, through the closer affinity

15 ..

174

-

ABSOLUTE -PROPERTIES.

which some sounds have, either directly or through the ·oh-.;
ject they are taken to represent, to certain thoughts, o~.
through the- more intimate association which experience has
created between them and such thoughts, the selection is
found, on a nice inspection of language a_s it is, to have
b~en made on certain natural and easily defined principles,
These principles, derived. either from the inherent relation-·
ship of the sound to the thought, or of the object taken to
represent the thought to the thought itself, thus come in to
give shape and form to language.
Once more, thought itself has its own laws. It has its
own relations which must ever be observed in the construction of language and ever he correctly represented in it.
So far as these laws and re.Jations belong to thought as
thought, they furnish the foundation for the science of icnivusal grammar or grammar in the abstract. So far as the
thought to be expressed is modified by the condition and
circumstances of the people that frame a language, these
accidental relations and forms of thought furnish the foundation for a grammar of a particular language, or, as it may be
called to distinguish it from abstract grammar, liistorical
or i·;iductive grammar.
.
.
We have thus the definitions that are contained in the
following sections.

§ 247. The ORAL PROPERTIES of style are those
which are determined from the nature of language as
consisting of articulate sounds.

§ 248. The SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES of style are
tl;iose which are determined from the relations of articulate sounds, or of the symbols of thought to the
thought to be represented by them.
·. Dr. 'Vhatdy has applied the term "suggesti\-e" to tha:t

ORAL PROPERTIES.

175

kind

of style which "without making a distinct, though
·
f
,
bne, mention of a multitude of particulars, shall put the
hearer's mind into the same train of thought as tl.e speaker s,
uggest to him more than is actually expressed." Of
and S
· , f
course, what are here called .'the suggestive properties o
style are to be widely distinguished from Dr. Whately's
•suggestive sty le.'

§ 249. The GRAMl\I.A.TICAL PROPERTIES of style
are those which are determined by the necessary or
accidental forms and relations of the thought to be expressed.
These properties are comprehensively embraced by Dr.
Campbell under the head of" grammatical purity."

CHAPTER II.
OF THE ORAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

§ 250. The oral properties of style include those of
EUPHONY

and

HARMONY.

The ultimate distinction between euphony and harmony
us properties of language consists in this ;-that eupho~y respects the sound or the phonetic side of language exclusively,
while harmony regards the sound only in relation to the
thought or to the logical side. Euphony has respect to the
sourids of words us they affect the ear and are regarded
merely as sounds and independently of any signi~cation
they may have. In harmony, sounds are regarded m relation to the thou"'ht which they express. Hence the effect of
euphony is a m:rc seasatio:i on the outward ear; while that

178

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES,

-- · - EUPHONY.

even
. . to written discourse, may be in · the fact that th e
wntrngs of Addison owe no small part of their attractiveness
to th: musical structure of his style. The public speaker
especially needs to subject himself to much trainino- of the
.
d
b
ear, rn or er to give it such a control over his style of ex•
pre.ssion that his sentences without conscious design, shall,
as it were, form themselves in accordance with the principles of euphony and harm onv.
Next to the study of disc~urse as pronounced by Jiving
orators, may be re commended recitation from the best poets
~nd orato_rs. E~ery stud~nt of oratory should devote a por,1on of time ~~1ly to tins exercise or to that of reading
aloud composition excelling in musical properties. The
speeches of eminent orators generally possess these excell~ncies i'u a hig~1er d eg~e_e than other classes of prose composition. 'I he various wntmgs of Burke, of Milton and Addison furnish, however, excell ent studies for the acquisition of
thes_~ pruperti~s.
The Creek and Latin languages, also,
havrng been formed, in a pre-eminent degree, under the influence of the ear i nasmuch as poetry and oratory were th
r
e
ear ier forms in which they developed themselves, may be
profitably studied for this purpose.
As studies of this ·kind r espect immediately the culture of
the ear alone, it should ever be remembered that they can
be prosecuted to best advantage only by audible pronunciation.

··-"=

I•

179

._; *· ..-.,. .,;
...... ,.

CHAPTER ,III.
OF EUPHONY.

§ 253. EuPHONY in style respects the character of

the sounds of words regarded merely as sounds, and
requires that they be such as will affect the ear in oral
pronunciation agreeably. § 250.
The sounds of words vary only in four different ways,
viz: in respect to pitch, force, time, and quality, But it is
obvious euphony has nothing to do with variations of pitch,
any farther at least than this; that it requires the successions
of pitch to be not monotonously uniform. This part of the
field, however, is so entirely included within the province
of harmony that it may here with propriety be wholly passed over.
'
Neither has euphony any thing to do with the time of
sounds, or quantity, except so far as quantity is a constituent of accent.
The only points to be considered here, therefore, are force
as it appears in accent, and quality of sound.

§ 254. Euphony requires the avoidance of such
words and expressions as are difficult of utterance on
account of the succession of unaccented syllables.
, There are many words in our language which it is difficult to enounce on account of the number of unaccented syllables occurring in immediate succession, as for instance,
meteorological, desultoriness, imprecatory. Such words,
so far as practicable, should be avoided in all elevated discourse. They are, for the most part, of Greek or Latin
origin,
Not only words but phrases having a number of unaccent·

\

180

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

HARl\lONY PROP ER.

ed syllables ·may be objectionable on this account. The
phrase, "The obstinacy of his undutiful son," contains six
unaccented syllables in succession, and cannot well be pronounced without interposing a pause where the sense forbids.
The following senteace from Tillotson is liabl e to the same
censure:
" \Vhen a man hath once forfeited the reputation of his
integrity, nothing will then serve his turn.",
In reading it the voice labors, and seeks
relieve itself
by pausing slightly after "forfeited," and also after "repu·
tation." The pause supplies the accent that is missed.

to

181

be suffered for the sake of force or clearness, the excessive
repetition of them gives to style a forbidding character.
The follo wing sentences are exceptionable in this resp ect:
Thou form'd'st me poor at first and keep'st me so.
The hosts stood still in silen t wonder fi x'd.
After the most straitest sect of our religion I li ved a
Pharisee.
As far as respects the affairs of this world.
For the peace and good of the church is not terminated in
the schismless estate of one or two kingdoms.

§ 255. E uphony requires, in the second place, that
those words and phrases be avoided which are harsh
and disagreeable in respec t of quality of sound:The words of a la nguage are faulty in euphony in respect
of quality only by r easo n of derivation or composition. Euphony presid es over th e formation and development of language, and watchfully guards against th e introduction of
offensive combinations either in r oo ts or general forms of de·
rivation and inflection. The radir.al words of all languages
are hence eup honious. But it will sometimes happen that
the general laws of derivation and composition will bring
together vocal elements which, taken together, are harsh and
difficult to utter. So, likewise, foreign words, containing
elements not belonging to the indige nous tongue, may be
difficult to pronounce, and, therefore, to a native ear. be
wanting in euphony.
:
Farther, individual habits or physical defects may render
oertain combinations difficult which are not so to others of
the same country.
While occasionally such offenst-s against euphony · may

CHAPTER IV.
OF HARlliONY-HARl\IONY PROPER.

§ 256. HARMONY in style respects the character
of the sounds of words as expressions of thought; and
requires that they be such as, in the audible prontlllcia tion of discourse, will awaken agreeable emotions.
§ 250.
Harmony, as a property of style, lies between euphony,
which regards sounds as sounds merely, on the one side,
and the suggestive properties of style, which regard the
image presented to the mind by the word, on the other, as
in a painting we readily discriminate between the pleasing
nature of the colors as they affec't the eye of a child, and
such a disposition of them as wi1l exp ress real objects; and,
again between this and the representation of character, which
is fully appreciated only by a matured taste; or as, in

16

182

183

ABSOLUTE "PROPERTIES.

HAR11:lONY PROPER.

music, we distinguish between the sounds that a child elicits
as he runs his fingers at random over the keys of a pianoforte and those which a master produces while, without
designing to express a particular' sentiment, he yet inJistinctly obeys I.he fix ed principles of melody and harmony,
and again between these and the sounds which lie elicits
when intently bent on the expressio n of a sentiment, so wc
may distinguish between euphony and harmony, and agaiu
between harmony and those properties which are more
directly found ed on the thought to be expres~ed. We lia ve
in these sc1·eral processes of art, first, the r:1ere outward
material,-the color or the sound; secondly, the body as the
organized expression of an internal and spiritual principle,
but regarded still as body addressed to the senses; and,
thirdly, the sentiment or thought revealed in the body. The
fuller developm ent of these different classes of properties will
indicate not only the fundamental grounds of distinction
betw een them, but also the practical utility of discriminating between them in the study of sty le.

as th e elemental sounds, of which words are ccmposed, are
concerned. In this respect,-the character of the elemental
sounds which enter into their structure, different languages
differ greatly, as well as the sty Jes of different writers in
the same language. While the Italian lnnguage, thus, has
in its alphabet fewer vowels than the English, yet the vowel
sounds have a great relativ e predominance in th e actual
structure of the language as compared with the English.
There are in English discourse but about three-fourths as
many vowels as in Italian; that is, w bile in an English
sentence of eight hundred letters there are not far from three
hundred vowels, in an Italian sentence of as many letters
there are nearly four hundred. The Italian lang uage, in
harmonious effect, differs from th e English in this particular :
that as composed of . a . lar:(jer p_ortion of vowels, it is more
open, smooth and flowing; while th e English has th e peculiar strength and expressiveness which a highly consonantal
character imparts.
There is, moreover, a viide difference in the character of
different consonants. Some have vocality, others are mere
aspirations. In some languages, also, th e same consonant
has less, in others more, of a proper consonantal character.
The lower Germ ans are more open in th eir pronunciation,
-that is, compress with less. forc e the articulating organs
in forming consonants, than the English.
If it be borne in mind, now, that harmony nev er loses
sight of the chara cter of the thought to be expressed, it will
at once be perceived that in respect to certain kinds of
thought the peculiar alphabetic structu re of our language
will be more favorable to harmony, while in respect to
others, it will be less so. The following ·lines from Coleridge's " Hymn before Sunrise in the vale of Chamouni,"

§ 257. Harmony, in the wider sense, includes Harmony proper, Rythm, and M elody.
•
This subdivision of harmony is founded on the distiuction of vocal utterances into those belonging to th e four different functions of voice, viz: pitch, force, tim e, and quali\y
of yoice. Pitch is the con~tituent of melody; force and
time give accent-the constituent of rhythm; and quality
of voice lies at the foundation of harmony proper.

§ 258. HARMONY PROPER is founded on the quali1 y

of sounds, and requires that the succession of words in
a sentence, in union with the thought which is expressed, fall smoothly and gratefully on the ear.. · · -:'
The quality of sounds can be r egarded in style only so far

·1s4

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

llARMOi'iY PROPER.

striko the ear pleasantly and excite the emotion of harmony.

of Osiris, went up and dow n gathering up limb by limb
still as they could find them. \Ve have not yet found them
all, nor e1'er shall do, till her master's second comrng: he
shall briner tocrether every joint and member, and shall
mould the~ into an immortal feature of lo veliness and perfection.-Milton.

And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad!
···Who called you forth from night and utter death,
From dark and icy caverns called you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,
Forever shattered, and the same forever!

But so have I seen a harmless dove made dark with an
artificial light, and her eyes sealed an_d locked up wi~h a
little quill, soaring upward and flyrng wHh amazement, lear,
and an undiscerning wing: she mu.de towards hea ven, but
knew not that she was made a train and an instrument, to
teach her enemy to prevail on her a nd all her d efenc~less
kindred.
So is a superstitious man; zealous and blind,
forward and mistaken, he runs towards heaven, as he thmks,
but he . chooses foolish paths; and out of fear takes any
thing that he is told.-Jerenzy Taylor .

The sounds, however, particularly in the last two verses,
are far <li!Ter~nt in quality from those in the following
which are equally harmoni~us:
"God!" sing, ye m~adow stre11m~, with gladsome voice!
Ye pine groves, with your soft and so ul-like sounds.
Of a still different character are tl1e following remark:ably harmonious lines from Gray's Elegy in a \:OUI!tr;v
. Church-yard:
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion or the echoing horn
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed,
The English language is peculiar!y fa,vorable to that
species of harn\ll.qy whicl~ may appear in union with
strength and energy: the Italian to that which is combined
with calm elevi1:tion and dignity as well as grace and
elegance.
'!'lie.following are illustrations of this property of style in
prose discourse: ·
Truth, indeed, came once into the world with her divine
mast\)r, and was a perfect slmpe, most g-loriotis to loo)c o~.:
but w4en he ascended, and his apostles after him were laid
asleep, then straight arose a wicked race of deceivers, who,
as that story goes of the Egyptian Typhon with his conspirators how they dealt with the good Osiris, took the virg~n
Truth, hewed her lovely form into a thousand pieces, and •
scattered them to the four winds. From that time ever
since, the sad friends of Truth, such as durst appear, imitating the careful search that Isis made for the mangled body

185

ff

§ 259. Harmony proper may be violated either by
and harsh combina tions of sounds in words ;
rou<Th
,o
or by an imperfect adaptation of the sounds to the
particular character of the thought.
Language, as the body of thought, should ever evince the
presence of the organising principle generally, by assuming
a form pleasing to the sense. There is beauty in a clear
complexion, smooth skin, and nicely round ed features, as the
,
proper expression of a sound mental conditio~.
There is a beauty, too, entirely distinct from this, in the
flashing eye of excited hope, the crimson flush of offended
modesty, the languor and paleness of pining grief, as the
expressions of the inward spirit. If they have a beauty in
themselves, it is entirely lost in the greater and more absorbing beauty which they possess as mental expressions. So
there is a harmony in the adaptation of language, as con. - sis ting of di verse sounds, to the particular thought to be expressed; to be distinguished from mere euphony, or the
beauty of the ' sounds regarded as mere sounds, on the one

16...

186

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

h_and, and from the general beauty which a perfect expression of thought in language imparts, on the other.
. The style of Barrow with all its excellencies is often faulty
In respect to harmony.
The following extracts are deficient
in gener:il smoothness. We feel in reading them that the
expression does not flow in easy qtteraI1ce of the thought.
_\'Vhen sarcastica] twitches are needful to pierce the thick
skrns of men, t? conceal their lethargic stupidity, to rous·e
then~ out of their d_rowsy neg ligence, then may they well be
nppl_1ed: when plarn dcclnra~ions will not enlighten people
to d1scer_n th e truth and weight of things, and blun t arg um ents. will not penetrate to convince them or persuade th em
to th e'.r duty; then doth reason freely resign its place to wit,
allom?g it ~o undert~ke its wor_k of instruction and reproof.
Th eir emmency of state, th eir affluence of wealth th eir
unc?ntrollab_le po>~er, their exemption from coinm~n restr~1n~s, tl:e1r contmual distractions and enc um brfrnces by
vaneti es oJ care an~ business, thei r multitude of obsequious
follow ers,._ and s~arc1ty of faithful friends to ad vise or reprove
th_em, then· ha vrng no obstacles before th em to check th eir
wills, to cross their hum ors, to curb th ei r lusts and passions,
are s_o many snares unto them: wherefore they do need
plentiful measures of grace, and mighty assistances from
Go~, fo preserve them from the worst errors and sins· into
which otherwise, it is almost a miracle if th ey a:e not
plunged.
·.
IU

Archbishop Tillotson's style is also exceedingly defective
respect to harmony. The following is an extract:

One might be ~pt to think at first view, that this parabie
w~s overdone, and wanted somtlhing of a clue decorum; it
b_erng hardly c~eclible, lha l a man, after he had been so mercifully dealt withal, as, upon his humble request, to have so
lrnge a debt so freely forgiven, should, whilst the memory
of so much mercy was. fr es h up on him, eve n in the very
next m oment, handle his fe llow-servant, who had made the
sa.me humble requ est to him which he had done to his lord,
with so much r ough ness and cruelty, for so inconsiderable
a s11m,

187

RHYTHM.

CHAPTER

v.

HARMONY......:.RHYTHl\1.

§ 260. RHYTHl\1 iu style is founded on accent; and
requires that the succession of accented and unaccented syllables be such as will produce a n agreeable effect on the ear in the pronunciation of the discourse.
Among the ancients rhythm was r ega rded as the prominent thing in harmony of sty le; and much attention was
given to it in the study of oratory. The structure of the
Greek a~d Latin languages admitted, to a much greater degree than our own, th e application of the principl es of
rh ythm to th e formati on of style. Yet in the English
la~guage rhythm plays an important . part.; and in no point
are the writings of dilferent men more easily distinguishable
from one another than in respect to rhyt hm, nor is there
scurcely any other property more missed in orntory, when
wanting.
The ancient rhetoricians enclcavoreti earnestly to ascertain
and settl e the laws of rh y thm; that is, determi ne iu what
particular successions of accent, or in what feet oratorical
i·hythm consists. The endeavor seems to ha ve been fruitl ess;
as th e r es ults of their in1·psligations were widely variant.
Indeed, from the very nature of oratory as distinguished
from poetry, and yet proceeding from a mind formed iu
feeling and tas te as well as in intelligence, aside fr om the
nature of harm ony as representing th e form of expression
yet as not independent of th e thou g ht expressed, we might
have anticipated a failure in such an elfcrL Th e ru gged
oak, with its heavy, abrupt and open arms and its scanty
spray and foliage has a harmony, so to speak, of its own;
'nlid there is, too, a harmony' peculiar to the willow with its

'

f

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

long and slender branches and pendent foliage; The diverse
character of the thought gives a diverse character to the
rhythm. Strength and vehemence delights in the frequent
concurrence of heavy accents; tenderness and familiarity
avoid them. Yet the oak is not all heavy, jagged boughs;
nor the willow all twig and leaf. There are extremes in
both directions; and against these the following rules are
given as the only ones which the nature of the case allows.
It should be ever borne in mind that while there is such
a thing as rhythm, it is ever determined by the character of
the thought; else rhythm would be . mere euphony. The
rhythm of Damosthenes would not be rhythm in Cicaro.

§ 2fil. Rhythm forbids the excessive recurrence be>th
of accented and also unaccented syllables.
This rule is founded in the very nature of rhythm which
is constituted of an intermixture of accented and unaccented
syllables. A style that offends against this rule must be
pronounced to be so far wanting in rhythm. The writings
of Tillotson, generally characterized for want of harmony,
furnish abundant exemplifications of this fault in sty le. It
will be remarked in the foilowing extracts from this, in
many respects, excellent writer, that the ear demandsa
heavy accent on the italicised words so much that such an
accent is thrown on a word which should not regularly receive it. In this we find a proof that harmony ever respects the thought, and not the sonnd merely in which it is
embodied.
Consider that religion is a great and a long work; and
asks so much time, that there is none left for the delaying
of it.
But then I say withal, that if these principles were banished out of the world, Government would be far more diffi· .1
cult than now it is, because it would want its firmest basis ,

RiiYTiilli.

189

and foundation; there would be infinitely more disorders in
the world, if men were restrained from injustice and violence
only by humane laws, aud not by principles of conscience,
and the dread of another world.

·If the word humane in this last extract be pronounced
as it is here spelt, the ear will instantly detect the ·want of
rhythm in the sentence. The offense is indeeii so great
that we cannot doubt the word was pronounced in the time
of Tillotson as it is now with tlie accent on the first sy liable,
and that we have only conformed the prthos-raphy to the
pronunciation,
In striking col)trast with the sty le of Tillotson in respect to
all the oral properties, and particularly that of rhythm, is the
style of Milton, of which the following are beautiful exemplifications.
I sh;i.11 detain you now no longer in the demonstration of
what ~e should not do, but straight coaduct you to a hillside, where I will point you out the right path of a virtuous
and noble education, laborious indeed at the first ascent, but
else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospects aud melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was
not more charming.

By a slight change in the rhythm without affecting the
sense, this sentence may lose all its beauty. By substituting,
for instance, in the last part of it "at first" for "at the first
l!Sceut"; "on all sides" for "on every side"; and "sweet"
for "charming," the rhythm is greatly marred; as will be
seen from a mere perusal of it as thus altered:
I will point you out the right path of a virtuous and noble
education, laborious indeed at first, but else so smooth, so
green, so full of goodly prospects and melodious sounds on
both sides, that the harp of Orpheus was not more sweet.
When a man hath been laboring the hardest labor in the
deep mines of knowledge, qath furnished out his findings in
all t.heir equipage, drawn forth his reasons as it were a battle

190

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

rang.e d, -~cattered and defeated all objections in his way,
calls out his adversary into the plain, offers him the advan. tnge of wind and sun, if he please, only that he may try the
matter by dint of argument; for his opponents then to skulk,
to lay ambushments, to keep a narro1v bridgv of licensing
where the challenger should pass, though it be valor enough
in soldier.ship, is but weakness and cowardice in the wars
of truth. For who knows not that truth is strong, next to
the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor stratagems, nor
licensings, to make her victorious. Those are the shifts and
the defences that error uses against her power.-0/ Un-

licensed Printing.

191

RHYTI·IM.

·

§ 2G2. Rhythm also forbids an excessive recurrence
of metrical feet which shall suggest the rnspicion that
the speaker has become poet.
This is a fault in style into which immature writers are
liable to fall; especially if accustomed much to th e exclusive
recitation of poetical compositions. \Vhile it implies a musical car, it is yet a fault of excess; and in pure oratory is
inadmissible.
The fault more commonly appears in the
more elevated parts of di scourse, when the speaker, as it
were, absorbs the audien.ce into himself, and imagines himself no longer an orator, in address to others, but their
mouth-piece in t he mere utterance or pouring out of th eir
common thoughts and feelings. As words of foreign orig in
do not readily fall in with those of native stock in rhythmical harmony,"" writers who are liable to this fault of excess
in rhythm are generally characterised for their preference of
Anglo-Saxon words.
The following passage, from a popular author in the

* In the last extract from Milton, it will be seen at once that
"ambush men ts" mars the rhythm. And in the next quotation,
under this section, the phrasP. "assurances of immortality" is almost
the only one that interrupts the poetical structure.
·

lighter departm ents of literature might be reduced to the
form of regular blank verse .
Then _when the dusk of evening had come on, and not a
so?nd disturbed the .s acred ~tillness of the place-when the
bright moon poured JD her lwht on tomb and monum en t on
pillar, wall, and arch, and 1~1ost or all, it seemed to tli'em,
upon her quiet grave-in that calm time when all outward
things and inward thoughts teem with as~urances of immortality, and worldly hop es and fears are humbl ed in the dust
before them-then, with tranquil and submissi ve hearts they
turned away and left the child with God. Olt! it i ~ hard
to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach. but
let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, a~d is
a mighty, universal truth. When death strikes down the
innocent and young, for eve ry fragil e form from which he
lets the panti ng spirit free, a hundr ed virtues rise in shapes
of mercy, charity, and love, to walk th e world and bl ess it.
Of every tear that sorrowing mor tals sh.~d on such green
graves, some good is born, some gentler nature comes. In
the destroyer's steps there sp ring 11p bright creations that
defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light
to heaven.

§ 263. A correct or faulty rhythm appears most conspicuous at the termination of sen tences or phrases, as
the character of a strain of music is most affected by
the cadence.
In the cadence of a sentence, or member of a sentence, is
concentrated its entire musical effect. Hence, in th e study
of .rhythm, the chief attention has been gi_ven to _the construction of the cadence.
·
The style of Addison owes its easy flow in a great
measure to the fact that, while trochaic cadences, or such
as encl with an unaccented syllable, predominate, the heavy
effect of an invariable s'ameness is avoided . by a due i nterspersion of iambic endings • . A spondaic ca~ence rarely _

o·~~~rs in. t.h~ compo:iitions of .this a'utl~or.

.

t ":,.

...

192
·l ~

MELODY.

ABSOLUTE! PR.O PERTIES.
c:i}

~,..~~~ -;..,;,

!

~.

·.

:

""'"''.

CH.A.PTER VI, . "
HARMONY-i\1ELODY:
•

§ 264.

I.•

is founded on pitch; and requires
that the phrases or members of a sentence be so con·
structed and disposed that, in the pronunciation, the
successions of pitch be pleasing to the ear.
MELODY

The ter~ "melody," as applied both to style in composition and to elocution, has, for the most part, been used in
a vague and indeterminate sense. Its use - in music is,
however, fixed; and there is obviously eve ry reason for preserving to it the same radical import in all its ·various applications. In song, it denotes pitch in succession, and is clearly
distinguished from rhythm, which respects accent in succession. In elocution, we perceive the necessity of maintaining·.
the same distinction, and need, for this 'purpose, the same
precision in the distinct use of the terms. The same necessity, likewise, exists in style.
The exact. relatio11s of pitch to style are indicated in the
fact that, in the oral delivery of disrourse, the mutual dependence and connection of the particular constituents of the
complex thought are expressed chiefly, .although not exclusively, through the variations of pitch. While i~ belongs
to e~ocution to define precisely what these' variations are, it
is the appropriate province of rhetoric to prescribe how the
sentence shall be constructed so as to meet. these qualities of
an easy and agreeable elocution.
_,
More particularly,' every constituent part of a complex
thought, or the expression of 'it in a particular phrase, has,
in a correct elocution, a pitch of its own by which it is distinguished from the other constituent parts. In passing
from one phrase to another, the voice changes its pitch for .

193

tl;e ptirpose often simply of making the transition, and with
no reference to any emphatic distinction. These successive
ranges of pitch, given respectively to the several phrases,
may . obviously be such as to be offensive to a musical ear.
So far, therefore, as they are determined by the structure of
tho sentence, they need to be regarded in sty le. ·
But: farther than this, the relations between the constituent thoughts are indicated, in delivery, chiefly, by the pitch
of the voice, If, accordingly, the sentence b.e so constituted
that these relations ca nnot appropriately be expressed with
ease und agreeable etfect under the limitations of the laws
of vocal sounds, it is so far faulty; and the prevention or
correction of the fault comes within the proper purview of
rhetorical sty le.
How far, and in what particular respects, the principles
of melody in elocution may thus affect the sty le of discourse,
will be ~hibited in the sections which follow.
§ 265. Melody in style may be distinguished into
two kinds ; the melody of proportion, and the melody of arrangement.
A fault in melody may be either in the time of the variations of pitch,-the variations being too rapid or the contrary; or in the character of the variations themselves, being
in their own nature unmusical.
That species of melody ' which is founded on the time of
the variations, or what amounts to the same thing, in the
length of the phrases, is denominated the melody of propor•
tion. The melody of arrangement respects the character of
the variations themselves, as judged by a musical standard. '
§ 266. The melody of proportion is founded on
the relative length of the phrases or parts of a sentence; and re<Juires that the diseoursr, be neither frag~

.

17

l,.~

'I,,.

I,.: :~

194

195

ABSOLUTE -PROPERTIES.

MELODY.

mentary and abrupt, on the one hand; nor on the
other, be made up of phrases too extended for easy

tise, which is already prepared by me, on that subject.-

~locution.

· The style of Ossian and of Young in his Night Thoug hts
is also deficient in this species of melody.

The abrupt and fragm entary style is more tolerable in
essays; and is more fr equent in this department of writing.
The following extract from Lord Bacon, however excellent
in other respects," is deficient in melody.
Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability.
Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring;
for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the
judgment and disposition of business; for expert men can
execute, and perhaps judge of particulars one by one, but
the general counsels, and the plots and marshaling of affairs come best from those that are learned. To spend too
much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their
rules is the humor of a scholar: they perfect nature, a nd are
perfected by experience: for natural ahilities are like natural
plants, that need pruning by study; and studies th emselves
do give forth directions too much at large, except th ey be
bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies,
simple men admire, and wise men use them; for they teach
not their own us e; but that is a wisdom without th em, and
·
above them, won by observation .
The opening sen~ence in Hooker'~ E~clesiastical Polity,
as well as the succeeding extract from !Vlidllleton, lnbor
from being broken up by numerous qualifying clauses.
- Though for no other cause, yet for this; that posterity
may know we ha ve not loosely, through silence, permitted
things to pass away as in a dream, there shall be for men's
information extant thus much concerning the present state of
the.Church of God established amongst·us, and their careful
e.ndeavor which would have upheld the same.
And that it was not peculiar to the gift of language or
tongues only, to be given at the moment of its exertion, but
common likewise to all the rest, will be shown, probably,
on. some other occasion, more at large in a particular trea•

Middleton.

• L eave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall. Behold that
early beam of thin e. The host is withered in its course.
No furth er look--it is dark. Light trembling from the
harp, strike, virgins, strike the sound. No hunter he desce nds, fr om th e dewy haunt of the bounding· roe. He
bends not his bow on th e wind; or sends his gray arrow
abroad.-'l'emora, B. v.
Sens e ! take the rein; blind passion ! dr ive us on;
And Ig norance! befri end us on our way;
Ye new, but tru es t patro ns of our peace !
Y es, give the pulse full empire; li ve th e brute,
Sin ce as the brute we di e : th e sum of man,
0 f Godlike man! to revel and to rot.

N ight Th ough.ts.
The 'Opposite fault of thi s kind may be exemplified in the
following extracts from John Howe:

If we can supp ose an offence of th at kind may be of so
heino us a na ture and so circumstanced as that it cannot be
congruous it should be rem itted without some reparation to
th e prince and compensation for the scar.d al done to government; it is easy to s11ppose it mnch more incongruous it
should be so in the present case.-Living Temple.
And no d oubt so large a nd capacious intell ects may well
be supp osed tu pene trate far into th e reason and wisdom of
his dispensa tions ; and so not only to exercise s ubmission in
an implicit ac<1uiescence in the unseen and only believed
fitn ess of them, b11t also to take an inexpress ible complacency and satisfaction in what th ey manifestly discern
thereof, and to be able t.o resolve their delectation in the
works and ways of God into a higher cause and reason than
the mere ge neral belief that he doth all things well; viz:
their imm ediate deli ghtful view of the congruity and fitn e!'s
~f what he does.--Jbid.
·

--'

196

197

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

' :MELODY.

_ In this class of faults-those against melody of proportion, may be included, also, the joining together of disproportionately long and short members. The ear demanda
not only variety, but, also, !). harmonized variety or proportion betw een the members of a sentence. The following
sentence froµ1 Sterne is ill this re&pect highly melodious:

- In the following selections, although the sentences are
more or less complex, they are yet so arranged that the relations between the parts are easily indicated by the voice;
and the effect on the ear is consequently pleasing in a high
degree.
The first are from Dugald Stuart, whose style in this re•
spect is hig~ly finished.

_The accusing spirit which flo1v up ~o Heaven's Chµncery
with the oath, blushed as he gave it rn; and the recordi11g
angel, as be wrote it down, dropped a_tear upon the word
and blotted it out forever,
·
,
·
By sim ply altering tlic length of one or two of the clauses,
the melody may be ~atirely destroyed through a mere change
of proportion between the parts. This may be done by leaving out in the last clause the phrase "upon the word," and
also the -Word "forever"; thus, "and the recording angel,
as he wrote it, dropped a tear and blotted it out."

§ 267. Tr-rn MELODY OF AnRANGEl\lENT is founded
on the variations of pitch which are requi~;ite for expressing the proper relations between the constituent
parts of a complex sentence, or more directly on those
relations themselves ; and requires that the sentence be
so constituted that those relations may be easily expressed by the 'voice.

lt has been remarked, under § 264, th at th e vocal expression of the relations between the different parts or
phrases of a complex sentence, or the grouping of speech,
as it is callecl, is mainly effected by the function of pitch. In
a melodious style, accordingly, the sentence must be so con·
structed that th ese relations may be easily expressed; in
other words, so that there may be no confusion in the indicatioll of the relations on the one hand, and no laborious
effort be imposed on the voice in effecting this, on the other.

The most trifling accident of scenery, it is evident, at
least the most trifling to an unskilled eye, may thus possess
in his estimation, a value superior to that which he ascribes
to beauties of a far higher order.
By simply transposing the second and third clauses of this
sentence, the melodious £ow is broken up nnd its music is
lost.
The most trifling accident of scenery, at least the most
trifling to an unskilled eye, it is evident, may thus poss_ess,
in his estimation, a value superior tcf thafwhich he ascnbes
to beauties of a far higher order.

If the one party should observe, for instance, to his com·
panion that the minute parts of the tree, which the latter
affirms to be the most remote ;-that its smaller rnmifica·
tions, its foliage and the texture of its bark are seen much
more distinctly than the corresponding parts of the other;
he could not fail in immediately convincing him of the inaccuracy of his estimate.

In this sentence the leading thought is placed last. The
voice, accordingly, in pronouncing it, naturally rises to a
higher pitch and swells into a larger volume; and thus
leaves upon the ear at the close an agreeable fulness and
force of sound. At the same time, the less important explanatory and modifying clauses are so thrown in, as both
to break up the monotonousness of a direct assertion, and
- also to furnish the proper occasion of a pleasing variety in '
the successions of pitch. Change the order of almost any'
17i<

~

198

..
;IIELODY.

ABSOLUTE t'ROPERTIES.

two numbers of the sentence and the melody will be destroyed.
The s ty le of Addison is more direct and less diversified
with dep endent modifyin g clauses. It ex hibits this species
of melody,--that of arrangement in the disposition of the
leading thought in the sentence;" which is generally so placed
as, in a reading correctly ad apted to the sense, to leave the
ear impressed with an agreeable elevation and body of
sound.
We are obliged to dev otion for the noblest buildings that
have adorned tb e several co untries of the world. It is this
which has set men at work ou tem ples and pub.lie places of
worship, not only that th ey might, by the mag·nificence of
the building; iu vite the D eity to reside within it, but that
such stupendous works might, at the same time, open the
mind to vast conceptions, and fit it to converse with the
divinity of the p!ace.-Spectator.
·

·It seeks not to bereave or des troy the body; it seeks to
save the soul by humbling the body, not by imprisonment
or pec uniary mulct, Iirnch less by stripes or bonds or disinheritance, but by fatherly admonishment and christian re~
buke, to cast it into godly sorrow whose end is joy a nd in~
genuous bashfulness to sin. If that cannot b~ wrought;
then as a tender mother takes her child and holds it over the
pit with scaring words, that it may learn to fear where
danger is; so doth excommunication as dearly and as freely;
without money, use her wholesome and saving terrors.
She is instant; she beseeches; by all th e dear and sweet
promises of salvation she entices and woos : by all the
threatenings and thunders of the law and· rejected gospel,
she charges and adjures: this is all her armory, her munition, her artillery: then she awaits with long-sufferance a nd
yet ardent zeal.- ftlilton .
· '
Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her
seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the
world; all thing~ in heave n and earth do her homage, the
very least as fe eling her c;ire, and the greatest as not ex- .
empted from her po;1·er; both angels a;1d men and creatures

199

a{ what condition soever, tfwug h each in different sort and
manner, yet all w!d1 uniform consent, admiring her as the
mother of their peace a nd Joy.~Iiooke·r.

§ 268. Faults in respect to the melody of arrangement are either in the adoption of the loose, in preference to the periodic structure of a sentence, or of the
parenthetical as opposed t.o the compact structure.
The periodic and the compact structure is as favorable to
clearness and to energy, as to melody; and hence it will be
again treated of in the chapters on th ose properties of sty le.
It has a more intimate and vital connection, however, with
melody; since a sentence may be perspicuous or energetic
which is not periodic in its structure, whereas this structure
is indispensable to melody.

§ 269. A

is one in which
the leading thought of the sentence is presented in the
clo~ing rnember.
A LOOSE STRU C T URE, as opposed to the periodic,
is one in which the sentence terminates with one or
more dependent clauses.
PERIODIC STRUCTURE

This definition is given in preference to that adopted by
Dr. Cam pbell and after him by Dr. \iVhately, which is as
follows: "A period is a complex sentence in which the
meaning r emain s suspended till th e whol e is finished." It
is easy to construct a sentence whi ch shall be ex ceedingly
loose while it ye t accords precisely with this definition.
For example: "One party had given their who le attention,
during sev eral years, to th e project not only of enriching
th emselves and impoverishing the res t of the nation; but,
al so, by these and other means, establishing their dominion
under the government and with the favor of a fami ly who
Were foreigners that they might easily believe they were

200

-

.......

,,

................
......

AllSOLUTE PIWPER'i'rns.

MELODY.

estabiished on the throne by the good•will and strength of
this party alone. 'l 'This sentence must be denominated exceedingly loose, and yet, to apply Dr. Campbell's criterion,
lhere is no "piace before the end, at which, if you make a
slofl, the co~struction of the preceding part will render it a
complete sentence."

The followjng stanz;i. froJTI Byron, whose pcetry is not
remarkable for this kind of propertjes, is also exceedingly
loose, w bile not wanting in other qualities' of an elegant
diction:

\Vhy the periodic structure is favorable to melody may be
seen in the fact, that the leading thought being presented in
whole or in part in the closing member, that member must
receive vocal distinction in the enunciation, which is indicated by the pitch; and consequently the sentence closes
with a full and strong impression on the ear. In a loose
sentence, on the contrary, ending with a dependent clause,
the voice is abated upon it, and the effect is analogous to
that of ending a strain of music on some other than the keynote.
Examples of a periodic structure nre given under §3_26.
The following are instances of a loose structure:
And here it was often found of absolute necessity to influence or cool the passions of the audience, especially at
Rome, where Tully spoke; and with whose writings young
divines, I mean those among them who read old authors,
are more conversant than with those of Demosthenes; who,
by many degrees, excelled the other, at least as an author.-

Swift.
It would be difficult, perhaps, to find in the writings of a
reputable author, a sentence more loosely constructed than
this. The leading thought terminates with the first member; and there are five modifying clauses appended, at each
of which the voice seems ready to rest, but is called up
anew by another connective bringing in a new member.
While it is not destitute of clearness or strength, it is exceedingly difficult to express the relations between the members by any pleasing management of the voice.

201

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving-if aught inanimate e'er grieves-Over the unreturning brave,--alas !
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fierv mass
Of living valor rolling on the foe;
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
To this succeeded that licentiousness which entered with
the Restoration; and, from infecting our religion and morals,
fell to corrupt our lanaguge: which last was not like to be
much improved by thos e who at that time made up the court
of King Charles the Second; eit.her sqe<l1 ~: ho had followed
him in his banishmen t, or who had been altogether conversant in the dialect of those fanatic times; or young men,
who had been educated in the same company; so that the
court, which used to be tli e standard .of propriety and correctness of speech, was th en, and I think hath ever since
continued, the worst school in England for that accomplishment; and so will rema in till bet ter care be taken in the
education of our young nobility, that they may set out into
the world with some foundation of literature; in order to
qualify them for patterns of politeness. -Swift.
The first could not end his learned treatise without a
panegyric of modern learning and knowledge in comparison
of the ancient; and the other falls so grossly into the censure of the old poet ry and preference of the new, that I
could not read eitlier of th ese strains without indignation,
which no quality among men is so apt to raise in one as
self-sufficiency, the worst composition out of the pride and
ignorance of mankind.-Temple.

§ 270. An antithetic structure, so far as it is periodic, is peculiarly favorable to this kind of melody.

-·
202

Where the · main member of the antithe~is, or that to
which the writer wishes to give peculiar prominence, is
placed last, the antithesis is periodic, and so far melodious:
\Vhere this order is reversed, the melody is marred or destroyed. The following extract has this fruality in a high
- degree, although the members are too uniformly short to
give it the highest melodious effect. .

If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers
nnd poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If
their names were not found in the registers of heralds, they
felt assured they were recorded in the Hook of Life. If their
steps were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials,
legions of ministering angels had charge over tbem .JJ[acaulay. ·
§ 271. Parenthetical sentences are opposed to
melody, when the parentheses are of excessive length;.
or when parenthe,,es arc included within other parentheses.
The reason of this is tl1at when the parenthetical part is
long, a great part of the sentence must be pronounced with
an abatement of the voice; and when parentheses are included within parentheses, the voice, in the endeavor to express
the relations correctly, sinks too far for melodious effect.
The following sentences are faulty in this respect.
For we here see, that before God took any people to be
peculiar to him, from the rest of men, the reason which he
gives, why his spirit should not always strive with man, in
common (after an intimation of his contemptible meanness,
and his own indulgence towards him notwithstanding, and
instance given of his abounding wickedness in those days)
was, because "all the imaginaticns of the thoughts of his
heart were only evil continually."-John Howe; Living

l

suasion, and because our persuasion concerning those attributes of God will be still liable to assault unless we acknowledo-e him every where present; \nor can it well be concei~able otherwise, how the influence of his know ledge,
power and goodness c~n be so u~ive.rsal as w_il~ be tli.oug~1t
necessary to infer a umversal obligation to reh~1on ;) it w1~l
be therefore requisite to add somewhat concermng his ommpresence, or because _some, that love to .be_ very st~ictly critical, will be apt to thrnk that term restnchve o~ lns pr~sence
to the universe, (as snpposin;; to be present 1s relative ~o
somewhat one may be said present unto, whereas they will
say without the universe is nothing,) we will rather choose
to call it immensity.-Jd.
A very common variety of faults of this class occurs
where, by the interposition of a ·Jong parenthetical clause,
a just reading must throw an excessive stress on a portion
of the sentence.
Thus in the following sentence, the subject "they" being
separated from its verb, requires a heavy accent followed by
a pause ~hich destroys the melody.
They, going about to work a righteousness of their own,
are not wise.
\Vhich, as it standeth with christian duty in some cases,
so in common affairs to require it were most unfit.
'vVho, aiming only at the height of greatness and sensuality, hath in tract of time nduced so great and goo.dly a
part of the world to that lamentable distress and se~v1tnde,
under which, to the astonishment of the understanding beholders, it now faints and groans.

Temple.
l",

Yet because it may be grateful when we are persuaded
that things are so, to fortify (as much as we can) that per•

203

MELODY.

. ABSOLUTE · PnOPERTIES.

'

·~ ~ •

•1

. ':~

204 .

. . .ABSOLUTE PRO"F'ERTIES.

SUGGESTIVE I' ROPER TIES.

·- The following extracts are familiar exemplifications of the
beauty and force imparted to style by the adaptation of the
sounds to the objects represented: '

CHAPTER VII.
-

OF THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

§ 272. The

of style include those that are founded on the relationship between the sound and the thought, and those that are
founded on the relationship between the object that
represents the thought and the thought. The former
may be denominated 'the imitative; the latter, the symbolical properties of style.
SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES

The pilgrim vft·
At dead of night 'mid his oraison hears
Aghast the voice of time-disparting towers,
Tumbling all precipitate down-dashed
Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon.-Dyer.
Loud sounds the air, redoubling strokes on strokes;
0 n all sides round the forest hurls her oaks
Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown,
Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down.
·
Pope's lli4d,

It was observed, in treating of the nature of language,
§ 245, that language is representative or suggestive in its
nature in a two-fold respect. In the first place, a sensible
object is taken to represent the thought, if abstract, and in
the second place, a sound or word is applied as indicative of
that object, or of the mental state itself. Hence the ground
of distinguishing these two varieties of suggestive properties.
§ 273. The properties of voice on which the suggestive qualities of style are founded, are those of quality
and time; pitch and force, except as the latter is connected with accent, not admitting any consideration in
this departnient of style.
§ 27,1. words regarded as sounds are imitative of
three different classes of thoughts : 1. sensations of
sounds ; 2. other sensations analogous to those of
sound ; 3. mental states analogous to these sensations.
§ 275. All languages contain words which, in their

very structure as composite sounds, more or less perfectly resemble in quality, as sqft or harsh, &c., the
sounds which they designate. Such are. in om own
language, ltiss, buzz, murmur, gurgle, daslz, rattl~.

205

·§ 276. Not only single words but the entire st:·ucture of the sentence may bear a resemblance to the
sound represented.
Soft is the ~t~ain when Zephyr ·gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers Rows;
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse rough ,verse should like the torrent roar.
,

I

' :! ,'' - . Pope:

' Essay on Criticism.

vVhat ! like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, and fierce,
vVith arms, and George, and Brunswick crowd the verse,
Rend with tremendous sounds your ears asunder,
vVith gun, drum, trnmpet, blunderbuss and thunder?
Then all your muse's softer art display, · ·
·
Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay,
Lull with .Amelia's liquid name the Nine,
And sweeily jl 0 w thro~gh, a~l . the. royal li,n e.-Id : }~t, J.
§ 277. In so far as the sensations of sound res~mJ;ile
in their effects on the mind, or in other relations, those
of the other senses, words, regarded merely as sound.s,
may
imitative of them also. ·
·. , , • 1: ._

be

In this case, the imitation is not direct, as in the use -0( 1·
so~nds

i but only indirect, 'as it is not founded ·im.!Il~dig.t#Jy
.

18

AB S O::.UTE PROPERTIES.

SU~iGES'!

on the qualities of .the ;sensation; but on the relations. · This
analogy between· the sound and the object represented greatly·>!
assists the impression to be made in the representa tion.
Of the sensations susceptible of this analogous imitation
in sty le, those of sight are the most common; and of the
latter class, those of motion.
Here the imitation is more frequ ently effected by connected than by single words. The following will . serve as exemplifications:
Deep in those woods th e black-cap and thrush still hooted
and clang unweariedly : she heard also th e cawing of crows,
and the scream of th e loon; the tinkle of bells, the low ing
of cows and the bleating of sheep were distinctly audible.
Her own Robin, ca the Butternut below, began his long,
sweet, many-toned carol; th e tr ee-toad chimed in with its •
loud trilling chirrup; and frogs fr om the Pond and Mill
Brook, crooled, chubbed and croaked.-Margm:et. , , .
·.
While the cock, with lively din, .
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack or th e barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before.

· ,
..

,,

·:

\ Vith easv c.ourse

The vessels glide; unl~ss th eir speed he"stopped

By dead calms, t!tat oft lie on .these ·smooth
-When !lVcry zephyr sleep~.. _r

.' .

though the imitation is less direct a::d ob vious than in the
other species. As all those wo rd s in language ·w hich denote
m ental states as well as all abstract te1ms were, originally,
ex pre:ssi r e only of objects of sense, and could be transferred
to this abstract use only on condition of a correspondence
between th e world of thought ancl the world of sense, we
might rationally expect tliat language wo uld furn ish frequent instances of this species of in1 itatiun . I n point of fac t,
we find th at in_ able writers th e sty le is e;·er colored by the
ment al state . . Auger, kindness, vehemence, gentl eness, and
th e like, hav e, each, a language, a sty le of expression peculia r to th emselv es. And this peculiaril y of exp ressio n is to
he tracecl in the characte r of th e language r egarded as a
complication of sound merely . The fo ll uw ing wi ll serve as
illustrations of this co rrespond en-ce in the sound to th e se ns e:

In thos e deep soli tud es and awful cells,
, Where heavenly pens ive contemplat ion cl wells,
A nd ever-musing i\1ela ncholy r eig ns.
\Vith eyes up ra ised, as one inspired,
Pal e melancholy sat retir ed,
And fr om her m ild sequeste red seat
In notes by di s ta nee made mor e sweet,
Pou red throiwh th e mellow horn her pensive tone.

"

Swinging slow with sullen roar.
·
Id.; 1l Penseroso.
,

""

seas, ~·~

'.; , ,

§·278. Mental states, in so far as they may be con- ,
ceived of as analogous to the sensations of sound, may 1
also be imitated in language.
The range of this species of imitation is very wid_e ; al-.1

=

I ."E PllO:'ERTII:S.

Pop e: Eloise to Abelard.

,. . , , Milt?n! L_' ~llegro.
Oft on ·a plat of rising ground;
I hear the far-off curfew sound,
Over some wide -watered shore,

--

Collins: Ode to the Passions.

But 0 ho w altered was i ts sprig htlier tone,
When' cheerfuln ess, a nymph of healthiest hu e,
H er bow acro ss her sho ul ders flung,
Her buskins <"em med with morning cle w,
Blew an insp'fri n" air, that da le and thi cket rung,
The hunter's call~ tu Fa un and Dryad known.-Jbid.
Haste thee, Nymp h, aad brillg with thee
Jest and yo uthful J ullity,
Quips and cranks ancl wanton wiles,
Nods and becks a ::id wr eath ed sm il ~s 1

-

208
.~.

. , ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES .

· ... ., Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
,',<: And love to live in dimple sleek;
~
J
Sport that wrinkled care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides,' · ·
-Com&!, and trip it as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;
.
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The monntain-nymph,.sweet Liberty.
Alilton: L' Allegro.
;

J ,- ·; •

'

Nor shall the wisdom, the moderation, the christian piety,
fhe constancy of our nobility and commons of England be
ever forgotten, 'vhose calm and temperate connivance could
sit still and smile out the stormv hlu.ster of men more audacious and precipitant than of soiid and deep reach, till their
: own fury had run itself out of breath, assailing by rash and
heady approaches the impregnable situation of our liberty
and safety, that laughed such weak enginery to scorn, such
P?Or drifts to make a national war of a surplice /rabble, a
tzppet scll1Jle.-111ilton: R eformation in 1'..'ngland.
To this class of properties may be referred the grammatical figures of paronomasia and alliteration. These figures
owe their peculiar beauty to the fact that in using them the
speaker indicates a controlling reference to the nature of language as consisting of sounds,-the sound of the word
suggesting the use of them.
.

'
§ 279. The PARONOMASIA is the use of words

which differ in sense but are dissimilar in sound; as,
Amantes sunt amentes.-Terence.
The PUN is sometimes regarded as a species of paronoma·
sia. It differs from it in this respect; that it is the use of
a woi:d in a two-fold sense, as,

"A second Thomas, or, at once,
To name them all, another Diince;"
where allusion is made to two celebrated scholastic metaphysiGians, Thomas Aquinas and Jobn Duas Ecotus.

209

Lastly, he has resolved 'that neither person nor cause
shall improper him.' I may mistake his meaning, for the
word ye hear is 'improper.' But whether, if not a person,
yet a good parsonage or impropriation, brought out for him,
would not 'improper' him, because there may be a quirk
in the word, I leave it for a canonist to resolve.-Milton.
And thus ends this section, or rather dissection of him·
self, short ye will say, both in breath and extent, as iq...our
own praises it ought to be.- d.

§ 280. ALLITERATION is the use of several words
in succession beginning with the same letter ; as, 0
Tite, tuta Tati, tibi tanta, tyranne, tuliste.-Enni.us.
Then while the honor thou hast got
Is spick-and-span new, piping hot.-Hudibras.
Already doubled is the cape, the bay
Receives the prow, that proudly spurns the 11pray.
Byron.
Anglo-Saxon poetry was mainly distinguished from prose
by a regular alliteration. Hence alliteration continued to
be a . prominent characteristic in ·early Fnglish poetry. It
abounds in Spencer.
But direful deadly black both leaf and bloom,
Fit to adorn the dead and deck the dreary tomb.
She, of naught afraid,
Through woods and wasteness wide him daily sought.
" The lion, lord of every beast in field,'?
Quoth he, "his princely puissance doth abate," &c.
§ 281. Words are SYll1BOLICAL when they designate sensible objects or scenes which symbolize or
image forth the sense.
Words generally, as before observed, are originally symbolical, when used to den ate abstract notions. The sensible
.object or scene is taken as the mirror of the thought to be

.

18~

.:;_

210
conveyed.

. AtlSOL UTE! PROPEftTfES'. .

How .the ~ind is enabled to discern the" thought

:in this reflection, whether by some analogy of the scene or
object to the thought, as, for instance, a similarity in the
effect upon the mind, or by association or otherwise, it is
riot necessary here to explain. It is sufficient to nofe tl\e
fact that sensible scenes and objects do refleet abstract
thoughts; and especially when~ as in language, the attention
is set to discern the thought revealed in the symbol.
· The peculiar force and beauty imparted to style by this
use of words may be accounted for, in part at least, by
several distinct considerations. · First, this use of words is in
accordance with the proper nature of language. Language,
originally. arid properly, is not a mere cullection of arbitrary
signs, like those of algebra, which in themselves import
nothing. ·Words are more li:ke the diagrams of geometry,
in 'vhich, without previous explanation, may be perceived
the truth of the proposition which they severally exemplify.
Although, in the process of language, it becomes more and
tnore like algebraic signs and less and less symbolical and
picture-like, it yet retains to a greater · or less extent this
original characteristic; and so far as language is used in
accordance with its primitive and uncorrupted nature, it
pleases and impresses.
Secondly, in this use of language, the imagination is
directly addressed and put in play. The hearer fixes his eye
on the sensible object or scene, and his imagination forms
the picture of the thought. He thus becomes himself a
creative· artist; and .-the forms, to -which his own imagination gives birth, gratify at once the instinctive dotings of
paternity and the love of originating, inherent in our nature.
Interpreting a mere language of signs, where words only
6tand for ideas and do not represent them through sensible
objects, is, on the other hand, a dull exercise of memory.

SUGGESTIVE

PilOPERTIE~

211

If the language of modern ci,-ilization, in which science pre. vails over poetry, is more precise, more exact and unambiguous, it is yet less pleasing and less impressive than the rich
imagery and life of earlier dialects. It is the high prerogative of an accomplished speaker to unite the precision of the
modern with the vivid beauty and force of the primitive
diction.
§ 282. In the selection of words with a view to this
beauty of style, the more specific are to be preferred to
the more generic.

.· In the following extract from Mr. Sheridan's Speech
against Hastings, it will be apparent that, instead of the speoific or individual objects which are so forcibly presented to
the mind ln it, and by ~hich "the sentiment is so vividly
communicated, the whole thought might be as fully and
~curately exhibited in more generic language, but the foree
and richness of the expression would be lost.
It is true he did not direct the guards, the famine, and the
bludgeons; he did not weigh the fetters, nor number the
lashes to be inflicted on his victims: but yet he is equally
guilty as if he had borne an active and personal share in
each- transaction.
The thought would have been as , fully conveyed if he had
simply said, "It is true he did not give out the orders for the
arrest and the torture of his victims; nor himself carry
these orders into execution: but yet," &c.
§ 283. It is unnecessary, further, in seeming this

property to style, that truth to the actual object or
scene used to symbolize the thought, be strictly observed.
·
·
This implies exactness in the particular delineations
and congruousness in the parts of a complex object.

212

.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

GRAM;\IATICAL PROPERTIES.

In the following extract the mind labors to conceive the
. represent~tion in consequence of being unable to unite the
incongruous features of the heterogeneous objects presented.
Though in th ei r corrupt notions of divine worship, they
are apt to multiply their gods, yet this earthly devotion is
seldom paid to above one idol at a time, . whose ear they
please with less murmuring and much more skill than when
·
they share the lading or evtn hold the helm.
· The following are examples of an opposite character in
this resp ect, in which the seasible representation is exact
and congruous throug hout:
· For truth, I know not how, hath this unhappiness fatal
to her, ere she can come to the trial and inspection of the
~nd_erstanding: being to pass through many little wards and
limits of the several affections and desires, she cannot shift
it, but must put on such colors and attire as those pathetic
hand.~aids of the soul please to lead her in to their queen;
~nd if she find so much favor with them, they let her pass
Ill her own likeness; if not, they bring her into the presence
habited and colored like a notorious falsehood. And contrary, when any falsehood comes that way, if they like the
errand she brings, they are so artful to counterfeit the very
shape and visage of truth, that the understanding, not being
able · to discern the'1"ucus which these enchantresses with
such cunning ha ''e laid upon the features sometimes of truth,
sometimes of falsehood interchangeably, sentences for the
most part one for the other at the first blush, according to
the subtle impos ture of thc5e sensual mistresses that keep the
ports and passages between her and the object.-Milton.
So is the imperfect, unfinished spirit of a ma n. It Jays
th<: foundation of a holy resolution, and strengthens it with
vows a nd arts of persecution; it rais es up the walls,sacrnments, and prayers, reading and holy ordinances.
And holy actions bPg in with a slow motion, and the building sta_vs, and th e spirit is weary, and the soul is nak ed and
exposed to temptation, a:1d in the days of storm takes in
every thing tba: cant!,; i: :::i; d1i ef ; and it is faint and sick,
• ,t;

!,

. 213

lfatless -~rid tired, and it stands till its own weight wearies
the foundation, and the a declines to death and sad disorder.

-

J. T aylor.

' Nor in our prosp erity, our affluence of good things, our
possessio n of common, should we be unmindful of him who
relieved us in our straits, who supp lied our wants, sustained
our adversity, who redeemed us from Egypt, and led us.
through the wilderness . A succession of new and fr es h benefits should not, as among some savages the manner is for
the young to make away th e old, supplant and expu nge
ancient ones, but make them rather more dear and venerable
to ns. Time should not weaken or dimini~h, but rather
confirm and radicate in ns the rem embrance of God's goodness; to render it, as it doth gold and silv er, more precious
and more strong.--Barrow's Sermous.

CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

§ 284. The grammatical properties of style may he
distributed into three species, according as they respect
the forms of words, tlwir connection, or their mean-

ing.
The departments of grammar which respectively treat of
these several species are Etymology, Syntax, and Lexicography. Etymology presides over the words introduced
into the language and the forms which th ey take; syntax,
· over the arrangement and r elations of word~; and lexicvgraphy assigns to them th eir meaning. The several species
·' of the gr"a mmatical properties of sty le are founded, accord, · ingly, on these departments of grammar, and derive from
~ them their regulati ve principles.

.'

;. 214
.

.ABSOLU'J;'E _l;'ROPEilTTES.

Inas~uch as these ;grammatical principles are fixed ._ond

1mpera~1v~, the observance of them in style is indispensabie.
Hence it IS more convenient to consider the&e propert1'e .
th ·
·
S ID
. e1r ~egati ve aspect; and, to exhibit them not in the forms
~n wh~ch, as observed, they impart beauty to discourse, but
in which, as the)· are disre"arded the d '
··
.
.o .
,
. 1scourse b ecorues
thereby faulty. .
.... ·· .. , i
....
·
·'-"
.. : ~efo:e illustra_ting the several . fat;! ts again~t gramma~ic,al
punty in style, it becomes necessary to as certain the sta nd~rd of yurity. Numerous and weighty authorities .deter·
mrne Hns to be good u.se The lan cruao-e of H
·. .
·
o o
orace is: . ,
Q
Uws
uem penes arbitrium est et jus et norma loqueudi.
. ~uintilian only says use is the most certain rule: Cer·
t1s s1ma reguht in co nsu etudine.
Dr. Campbell is earnest i_n maintaining that
sarily th e sole criterion.

us~ ;s

neces-

h~s l~een before observed,· § 246 that grammatical
science is either abstract or histcrical. The Jaws of thought
on the _one hand, and the laws of arti culate sounds, on th: '
other, impose certain necessary conditions on the formation
. of languag.~. These laws being given, it may be determined befor ehand, to a certain extent, what m\Ist Le the properties of language, or, in other words, the principles of
, grammar, No use can be characterised as o-ood that vj~.
0
'_·Jates these uni versa! principles of language.
. ,

_It

Ilut, again, there is such a thing as grammatical science
regarded as historical, and fpundetl' on inductive ground'
Tl
·
·
s,
1ere are in every language certain general laws whicq
. co~tr~l and regulate its development. There ar(! general
prrnc1ples of etymology and syntax; · violations of · whjcq
must be regarded as foul ts. It is true tliat sometimes
the different princi pies that presi<le 01·er the formation : pf

GRAMMATICAL PllOPE!l.TIES.

2L"i

langu~ge .come i~ collisi~n with one another, and thus
grammatical rules frequently have exceptions. The prin·
ciples
euphony, thus, frequently; occasion deviations from
the common laws of derivation. So, likewise, more purely ,
rhetorical or logical principles modify the operation of proper grammatical rules. Such exceptions are not, however,
properly violations of the laws of language. Now no "use"
can b~ allowed to transgress these general principl rs. If
grammatical monstrosities by any mishap exist, a correct
taste will shun them,. as it does phy.sical deformities in the
ar ts of design.
·

or

Back then of use we .haYe Loth the abstract principles of
ui1iversal -language, and. also the inductive principles of particular langllllges, as guides an<l 'Criteria of grammatical
purity. By these principles use itself must be tried .
G~d use is, therefore, only a proximate and presmnptiv e test of purity. \Vhile generally its decisions are authoritative, they admit, in their naf.ure, of being question ed, and
must themselves submit to higher authority. The expressions "nowadays" and "had have gone" ·have all the prescribed characteristics of good use; "reputable, national,
and present." No one can rationally deny, however, that ·
io. elevated discourse at least one is a barbarism and . the
other· a solecism. We may accordingly lay down the principle which · regulates· this ;mattez: . _a s . it . is expressed in the
following section.
. ~ ,c, :

-§ 285.

THE STANDARD OF GRA!l11\1ATICAL

P~Rl·T~,,,

is to be found proximately in good use ; but ultimately .
in :the fixed principles of grammatical science, that isi.',:
in ·the: principles of etymology,- syntax, :an~ le.xi~og~,. 1
raphy.1,,;. , .. ; :. : '.•,-:-:: "- ~ ,.. ~ _,., . . · -. > ,_ , . · ,., 1
<.i
. .
. .
. • .
~ 286. ·That use : alonc ·'is•to be ,Tcgarded as good '

~

2Ui

ABSOLUTE PROPERTI.ES. ,

which ·possess the following characteristics, viz : that
it is national, as opposed to provincial and techni~al;
reputable, or sanctioned by the best authors ; and
present, as opposed to what is obsolete.
§ 287. Offenses against grammatical purity may be
distributed in reference to their ·occasions into the follo~~ing species, viz :·
·i. Archaism, or obsolete use;
2. Provincialism, or the use of what is not national,
or confined to a district or province;
2. Id-iotism, or the use which i:;; confined to an indi.
• - ,
vidual ;
: 1 •

· 4. ' Technicality, or us~ p~culiar to a sect or trade;
5. Alienism, or use ~crived from a foreign language.
. It is to be remarkeµ that each of tLese species includes
offenses against all the dep~rtments . of grammar, whether
etymology, syntax, or lexicography. An archaism, thus,
··
may either be a barbarism,'solecism, or impropriety.

§ 288. A fault in respe<;t to tl~ e _settled ,forms of
words;'that is, an. ,offen.se .against th(l etymqlogy 9f;,a
language, is dcnominl).ted .a BARBARISM.
§ 289. A barbarism may lie in the use of a ' radical
word not sanctioned by the etymology of a language i
or in ' an unauthorized mode of deriving, inflecting, 0(.
compounding \Vord~·.
.1 ~·, :'
Tit~ English language · admits· more freely the introduc·
tion of .!'ne~ radical ;\~ords ·than'. most other languages.
\Vord~ of Lati~ ' or ' Gr.eek origin it receives · without .hesi~
tancy; and :subjects them in the process of naturalizing .ht
but trifling modifications. So common has this adulteration·
of the lang1.rn;te been, that a ·barbarism of
this
specie;
is
~ ·I
,,.
'\
. •,
<.:

GRAM1'iATicAL PROPERTiES.

21't

hardly reckoned a fault, and the preservation of a piue
An~lo-Saxon style has consequently become a positive
excellence.
The following are barbarisms in respect to the use of
words not attthorized: approbate, eventuate, heft, jeopardize, missionate, preventative, reluctate, repetitious, peek
for peep, numerosity, efiluxion, inchoation, unon, behest,
behove, erewhile, whenas, peradventure, obligate, memor·
ize, bating, pending, hearken.
Barbarisms in inflection: Stricken"' for struck, het for
heated, pied for pleaded, lit for lighted, proven t for proved,
had'nt ought for ought not, had rather hav e gone for would
rather have gone, have drank for have drunk, have began.
Barbarisms in derivatiori: . B_~ trayal, deputize, happify,
firstly for first, illy for ill.
Barbarisms in compound words: Side hill t for hill-side,
s1mdown t for sunset, fellow-countrymen for countrymen,
whereas, selfsame.
MiSCELl;A~EOUS EXAMPLES.

The court of Augustus has not wore off th e manners of the
republic.-Hume.
I had no sooner drank~ but I found a pimple 1ising in my
forehead.-Tatler.
Which some philosophers, not considering so well as I,
have mistook to be different in their causes.-Sw1ft.
I easily foresee, that, as soon as I lay down my pen, this
nimble spectator will hav e stole it.-ld.
The queen, whom it highly imported that the two
monarchs should be at peace, acted the part of mediator.
• Poetic use, . Many words are achniasible in poetry which rirnst
be pronounced barbarism• in prose.

t Technical use.

i Colloquial nae.

19

I

218

' .ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. - ,

The hauteur of Florio was very disgracious, and disgusted both his friends and strangers.
§ 290. A fault in respect to the settled arrangement
or construction of words in a sentence, or an offense
against the syntax of a language is denominated a
SOLECISM.

It is obvious from the definition that a solecism may be
committed in respect to any one of the various principles
of syntax. The following will suffice as exemplifications
under the more generic heads:
1. In the itse of adjective$: " the most extreme,"
"most straitest," "more preferable."
2. In the use of nouns and pronouns:
a. In concord; "Each will observe their turn," for his
turn"; "If any one transg-resses, let them be," &c.; ··"At
Smith's the bookseller."
h. In government; "I supposed it to be he," for "to be
him."
3. In the use of verbs:
a. In concord; "The amount of all the expenditures and
disbursements far exceed," &c.; .''He dare not do it,", for
"dares f' "Would to God," for "Would God."•
4. In tlie use of conjuncti'l:es, iucludi11 g conjunctions
froper and relatives.
"He told the same story as you," for "that you";
"Equally as," for "equally with ";
"Neither flatter or contem n the rich," for" nor";
"No more is meant but that,'' for "than";
• Dr. Campbell attributes the introduction of this solecism to an
improper imitation of the French expression ·' Plnt a Dien.'.'
"Would God," as equivalent to "I wish, or pray, that God would,"
la the preferable form.

GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES.

219

"Persons will not believe but what" for " but that";
"Solomon, the son of David, who built the temple."
5. Zn the use of prepositions:•
" She is free of pain," for "from pain";
" In pursuance to the";
"By the observing these precepts," for "of these precepts."
6. In the u.se of adverbs:
Second, third, &c., for secondly, thirdly, &c.
MI S CELLANEOUS EXAMPLES.

Removing the term from \Vestminster, sitting the Parliament, was illegal.-Macaulay.
We need not, nor do not, confine the purposes of God.
Ben tly.
I shall endeavor to liv e hereafter sui tab le to a man in my
station.-Addison.
He behaved himself conformable to that blessed example.
'
Sprat.
I can never think so very mean of him.-Bently.
The chiefest of which was known by the name of Archon
among the Grecians--Dryden.
The author is informed, that the bookseller bas prevailed
on several gentlemen to write some explanatory notes, for
the goodness of which he is not to answer, having never
seen any of them, nor intends it, till they appear in print.
Swift.
Nor is it then a welcome guest, affording only an uneasy
sensation, an<l brings always with it a mixture of concern
and compassion.-Fielding.
Base, ungrateful boy! miserable as I am, yet I cannot
cease to love thee. My love even now speaks in my resentment. I am still your father, nor can your usage form my
heart anew.-Goldsmith.

* For other examples, see under impropriet ies. Regarded in one
light these faults are solecisms; in other words, one view of language
would place them In the sphere of syntax; another, in the sphere of
lexicography•.

220

221

:' ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. ;

GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES.

. But th~ temper, as well a,s knowledge, of a modern historian, ~eqmre a more sober and temperate language.-Gibbon .
.Neither death nor torture were sufficient to subdue the
mmds of Cargill and his intrepid followers.-Fox.
~ach of these words imply some pursuit or object relinqwshed.
'Tis observable that every one of the letters bear date
after his banishment.-Bently.
Magnus, with four thousand of his supposed accomplices
were put to death,-Gihbon.
'
These feasts were celebrated to the honor of Osiris whom
the Greeks calle~ Dionysius, and ia the same with B'acchus.

N~ither of them are remarkable for precision.-Blair•
In proportion as either of these .two qualities are wanting,
the language is imperfect.-Addzson. .
.' . .
I had no sooner drank tha n I found a pimple nsmg m my
forehead.-Addison.
In this respect, the seeds of future divisions were sowed
abundantly.-Lyttleton.
. .
A free constitution, when it has been shook by the mt·
quity of former administrations.-Bolingbroke.
A large part of the meadows and cornfields was overflown.
.
He was early charged by Asinius Pollio as neither faithful or exact.-Ledwick.
He was persuaded to strenuously prosecute the great en•
terprises of the company.
§ 291. A fault in regard to the settled meaning of

Swift.
Whether one person or more was concerned in the business was not ascertained.
T~ose &ort of fayors do real injury under the appearance
of kmdness.
~very person, whatever be their station, is bound by the
duties of morality and religion.
He dare not do it at presen,t, <1nd he need not.
Whether he will or no, I care not.
We do those things frequently that we repent of afterwards.
M any persons will not believe but what they are free
from prejudices.
~ One of. his clients, who was more merry than wise, stole
it from him one day in the rni.dst of his pleading; but he
had better have_let 1t alone, for he lost his cause by his jest.

Addison.
I am equally an enemy to a female dunce or a female
pedant.-Goldsmith.
.
I\ing Ch.arles, and more than l1im, the duke and the
P_op1sh faction, were at liberty to form new schemcs.-Bolrngbroke.
The dri'.t of all his sermons was, to prepare the Jews for
the reception of a prophet, mightier than him, and whose
shoes he was not worthy to. bear ..-Atterhury.
He whom ye pretend reigns m heaven is so far from
pro.tecting the miserable sons of men, that he perpetually
delights to blast .the sweetest flowers in the garden of Hope.
Hawkesworth. ·

I

words, that is, an offense against the lexicography of
a language, is denominated an .lMP~OPRIETY.
§ 292. Improprieties are either in single words or in
phrases.
I.

IMPROPRIETIES IN SINGLE WORDS.

I. Adjectives.
"The alone principle," for "the sole principle."
"A likely boy," for" promising."
' "This wilderness world."
"He did not injure him any,'' for "at all."
"The work was incident to decay, " for" liable."
" He is considerable better."
"He is considerable of a man."
"Such words were derogatory," for " degrading."
" Obnoxioits doctrines," for "hurtful doctrines."

2. Nouns and Pronouns.
"Mean" for "means."
"The observation of the rule,'' for "the observance."
·" He was in a temper," for "bad temper" or "passion."
"The balance of them," for "remainder.•"

19"'

'
222

··- ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

" At a wide remove," for "distance."
"In community," for" the community."
"The works of Deity," for" of the Deity."
3. Verbs.
"I admire to hear," for" I like to hear."
"I admire that he should do it," "I wonder," &c.
"I expect he did it," for " suspect."
" He does not fellowship with him," for "hold fellowship.
"I learned him the lesson," for "I taught." .
"He was raised in China," for" brought up."
"Mr. L. supplied at Kingston," for "preached."
"They calculate to go," for "intend."
"There let him lay," for" li e."
"The council was setting," for "sitting."
"To fall trees, for " to fell."
"I recko n he did."
"He conducts well," for "conducts himself."
" It was predicated on other grounds."
"The work progresses rapidly."
" Such doctrines revolt us."
"The proceedings of the cabinet have not transpired,"
for " been made public."
"Property appreciates," for "rises in value."

4. Conjunctions and Adverbs.
"Like' he did," for "as he did."
"Directly they came, I went away," for "as soon as."
"He was quite sick," for "very."
"I feel as thou.g it," for "if."
"Equally as well," for "equally well."
"As old or older than tradition."
5. Prepositions.
"Aversefrom," instead of "averse to."
"In comparison fo," for "with."
"In accordance to," for "with."
"Militate with," for "against."
"Confide on," for "in."
"Independent on," for "of."
"Worthy," for "worthy of.."
"Differ with," for "from."

GR.iMl\1ATiCAt PROPERTIE S,

II.

223

IMPROPRIETIES IN PHRASES.

Celebrates the church of England as the most perfect of
all others.
I bad like to have gotten one or two broken heads.
MI SC ELLANEOUS EXAMPLES.

The only actions to which we ha ve alw ays seen, and still
see all of them intent, are such as tend to the destruction of
one another.-Burke.
To which, as Bishop Burnet tells us, the Prince of Orano-e
0
was willing to comply.--Bolingbroke.
The discovery he made and communicated with his
friends.-Sw if!.
The people being only convoked upon such occasions,
as, by this institution of Romulu s, fell into their cognizance.-Jd.
The wisest prin ces need not think it any diminution to
their....greatness or derogation to their sufficie ncy to rely
upon counsel.-Bacon's Essays.
The esteem which Philip had conceived of the embassador.-Hu me.
The christians were driven out of all their Asatic professiQl'.lS, in acquiring of which incredible numbers of men had
pcrished.-Robertson. ·
I do likewise dissent with the Examiner.-Addison.
Dr. Johnso n, with whom I am sorry to differ in opinion,
has treated it as a work of merit.- -Scott.
The memory of Lord Peter's injuries produced a deo-ree
of hatred and spite, whi ch had a much greater share a{' iuciting him,than regards after his father's commands.-Swift.
Yau stand to him in the relation of a son; of consequence you should obey him.
It is no more but his due.
The ship lays in the harbor.
He will become enamored for virtue and patriotism, and
acquire a detestation of vice, cruelty, and corruption.-Goldsmit!t.
Having been for a fortnight together, they are then
mighty good company to be sure.-Jd.

A.:BSVLttTE PROPERTIES•

Now the difference between one aucliente and another is
\"ery great, not only in intellectual, but in moral attainments.
It may be clearly intelligible to a House of Commons, which
would appear as if spoken in an unknown tongue to a conventicle of enthusiasts. It may kindle fury in the latter,
what would create no emotion in the former, but laughter
and contempt.---Campbell.
This effect, we may safely say, no one beforehand could
have promised upon.-Hume.

PART II.-SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

CHAPTER I.
GESERAL VIEW.

§ 293. The subjecti\·e properties of style are those

which are determin ed to discourse by the mental condition of the speaker. § 2-14.

.

Speech is the expression of thought, not as abstract and,
ao to speak, separate from the thinking mind, not of mere
truth or of id eas, but rather of the thinking states of the
living speak er. Ju.st so far as it becom.es the mere represc_ntatfre uf abstract propositions, it sinks from its proper
character and elevation. On the other hand, just so far as
it is an expression uf the thinking mind itself, partaking of
its indi ridual life and glow, it fulfils more perfectly its
proper object, and consequently is more pleasing and more
impressive.
§ 294. The mental condition of the speaker is determined by the natural and acquired characteristics
of his own mind, \Yhether common to all mind or peculiar to individuals;
By his physical structure and habits;
By the relations which he sustains to those whom
he addresses ; and, ,

II
226

SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

By the particular subject and occasion of his discourse.
Mind has properties as mind; and discourse as the ex·
pression of mind must exhibit, more or less, these properties.
There are only two, however, which demand particular con·
sideration here. They are these ;-that min<l is a thinking
'
substance; and that it thinks continuously.
The analogies of external nature, ever multifarious and
di verse, lead us at once to the conjecture that there are also
native idiosy ncracies of mind; that each thinking, like each
material existence, has peculiarities of its own. At all
events, in the development of mind under diverse influences,
there arises a great diversity of mental habits.
The physical stnicture has its influence, not only in
determining the mental habits and modes of thought
generally, but, also, particularly in the framing of thought
for expression. A narrow chest and weak lungs reject long
periods and vehement harangue.
Farther, the professional standing and official charac·
ter of the speaker should be regarded in sty le. There is a
proper dignity belonging to the pulpit; and the elevated
and commanding tones of tl:e general would be ludicrous
in the familiar discourse of colloquial equality.
The subject, likewise, and the occasi'o11 generally of the
discourse naturally improjSS themselves on the mind of the
speaker and leave on it their own peculiar characters. The
style, consequently, ever shaping itself by the state of the
speaker's mind, at the time, is modified by these outward
circumstances.

§ 295. The subjective properties of style include
those of SIGNIFICANCE, CoNTJNU"C>USNESS, and NAT·
VRALNESS.

S1GN1FICANCE•

227

The two first of these properties are found ed on the nature of mind itself. So far as discourse is an expression of
mind, it must be significant or expressive of thought.
Thought, moreover, is continuous. The mind, and more
especially when cultivated and disciplined, does not act by
sudden . impulses in irregular, disconnected thoughts: the
unity of its aim imposes on its movements the character of
progresaiveness and consecutiveness.
The property of naturalness is founded on the individuality
ef thought as the product of one distinct mind peculiar in
its native structure and its acquired habits, and influenced
in its action by peculiar circumstances of place and time.

CHAPTER 11.
SIGNIFICANCE IN STYLE.
§ 296. Significance in style implies two things:

First, That the speaker have some thought to conl·
municate ; and
Secondly, Tha t the words employed actually express some meaning.
Sometimes a speaker has no desire to communicate any
thotwht · but speaks for some other obj. ect, as to occupy time,
0
' .
or amuse or astonish his audience. This kind ,of discourse
has been denominated "spurious oratory."
It sometimes happens, moreover, that through mere vagueness or vacuity of thought a speaker or writer will use the
forms of speech with no thought or sentiment expressed in
them. This kind of sty le is term.ed "the nonsensical. ·

§ 297. SPURIOUS OR.ATORY, or discourse in which the

I .

I

228

SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

SIGNIFIC'ANCE.

speaker does not design to com_municate any. thought,
is, either,
For the purpose of appearing to say something:
For occupying time ; or
For entertaining his audience with words of lofty
pretensions, but of no significancy.

magnificent figures, and that decorum which is the result
of all these, are unison to the human mind; we are so
framed by nature, that their charm is irresistible. Hence
all acres and nations have been smit with the I ov e of the
mus:'s.-Geddes on the Composition of the Ancients;
The cadence comprehends that poetical sty le which animates every line, that propriety which gives strength and
expression, that num erosity which renders the .verse smooth,
flowing and harmoniotis, thiit significancy which marks the
passions, and in many cases makes the sound an echo to the
scnse.--Goldsmith.

The first species named is a kind of verbal or rhetorical
sophistry, in which want of argument is disguised under the
mere dress of words.
The second is Yery common in deliberative bodies where,
to prevent immediate action and delay a decision, a speaker
occupies the attention of the assembly with the show of diacussion.

· 2. The Learned. AlthouO"h we read of several properties
attributed to God in Scriptur~, as wisdom, goodness, justice,
&c., we must not apprehend them to be several power.s,
habits, or qualities, as they are in ils; for as they are lil
God, they are neither distinguished from one an~ther, nor
from his nature or essence in whom they are said to he.
In whom they are said to be; for, to .spe<i..l< properly~ they
are not in him, but are his very essence or nature 1tselt;
which acting severally tipon Severn] o.bject~, se~ms to us to
act from several properties or perfect10ns lil him; Vl:hertas,
all the difference is only in our different apprehens10ns of
the same thiner God in himself is a most simple and pure
act and thercl"ore cannot have any thing in hiin, but what
'
is tlyit
most simple and pure act itself1- Beven'd
g e' S
s er·o/o'ns.

The third is a species of rhetorical jugglery, and sometimes appears even in parts of grave and serious discourse,
when vanity and Joye of applause, or perhaps a worse principle, lead to a sacrifice of the high end of speaking to the
gratification of a low personal feeling.

• I

§ 298. THE NONSENSICAL in style proceeds from
vacuity of thought. The various species of it are the
puerile, the learned, the profo1tnd, and the marvellous;
Dr. Campbell, i~ his Philosophy of Rhetoric, has ably
treated of this part of sty le; and has indicated at length the
causes of it. The species enumerated are those described
in his work. The following extracts will exemplify them:

. .Rt
"/!

1. The Puerile. If 'tis asked whence arises this harmony or beauty of language? The answer is obvious.
'\<Vhatever renders a period sweet and pleasant makes it also
graceful: a good ear is the gift of nature; it may be much
improved but not acquired by art_. Whoever is possessed
of it will scarcely need dry critical precepts to enable him
to judge of a true rhythmus, and melody of composition.
· Just numbers, accurate proportions, a musical sympp~ny,

.229

/

3. The Profound. 'Tis agreed that in all governments
there is an absolute and unlimited power, which naturally
and originally seems to be placed in, ~he whole_body w herever the executive part of it lies. 'l lns holds Ill the body
natural· for wherever we place the begining of motion,
whethe; from the head, or the heart, or the animal spirits in
general, the body moves and acts by a consent of all its

parts.-Swift.
4. The Marvelous. Nature in herself is

uns~emly, a~d

he who copies her servilely and ~ithout artifice, . will
·always produce something po?r and of a mea~ taste. What
·is called loads in colors and hghts can only proceed from a
profound knowledge.. in the, values · of . c,olors, and from an

20

230

SUBJECTIVE - PROPERTIES.

' CONTINUOUSNESS.

admirable i~dustry which makes the painted objects appear
more , ~rue, if I may say so, than the real ones. In this
sense it may be asserted, that in Reubens' pieces, a~t is
above nature, 1rnd nature only a copy of that great master's
works.-Dr. Piles.
·

tinuous, § 269; and consequently should be so represented
in discourse so far as language will allow. There are limits,
indeed, to the degree in which this property can be secured
to sty le. When the mind is roused to a high pitch of
passion, and the thoughts come strong and quick, language
becomes too inflexible and awkward to serve as its ready
expression. Then the thought bursts out, as it best can, iu
dissevered fragments of speech. It leaps, like th e electric
fluid from cloud to cloud, manifesting itself here and there
at wide intervals of space. And yet even then it properly
maintains som ething of the appcara.nce of continuousness,
and does not offend the hearer by its violent leaps; but by
the very velocity of its movement prevents the notice of its
successiYe radiations, and, like the lightning, gives to its
separate flashes the effect of a continuous sheet of light.
Although, thus, strong impassioned thought leads to a
sentcntiQJ.ts sty le, and, therefore, such a sty le becomes highly
beautiful, as natural and proper to it, the affectation of such
a sty le when the thought is of the opposite character is extremely disgusting.
The speeches of Lord Chatham and Patrick Henry furnish copious examples of a sententious expression which, as
warranted by the character of the thought, are fine illustra•
tions of its nature and its proper function.
The following are examples of a. sty le faulty in this
respect. The first is an extract from the }:!:uphues of John
Lyly; from which romance the name of Euphuism has been
derived to this species of sty le. This kind of writing is not
uncommonly combined with labored antithesis and affected
quaintness of expression.

The nonse nsical appears not unfrequently in translations
in which the words and grammatical construction of the
original are followed only in respect to the form; and th~
particular thought of the author escapes attention.
The following will serve for illustration:
·. Let Rhet~ric there\ore be a power or faculty to consider
In every sub1ect what is therein contained proper to per~unde.
This sentence extracted from a translation of Aristotle's
Rhetoric by the translators of the Art of Thinking, convey ~
uo meaning. Rhetoric is not a power or faculty to consider
i_n any sense that can be attached to the expression; and w~.
can form no notion of what it is to" consider in a sirbject
what is contained in it."
The following is another extract from the sa1i1e work
which is liable to the same censure:
Wherefore also Rhetoric seems to personate politics; and
they who challenge the knowledge of it, claim that k11owledge partly throug)1 ignorance, partly through arrogan ce,
and partly upon other human reasons; for it is a ki nd
of particle and similitude of lo()'ic, as we have said in the
beginning. , . ;
"
·
., .• r

CHAPTER III.

·.··

·:

OF CONTINUOUSNESS IN STYLE.

~ 299.

CONTINUOUSNESS

is that property of styl~

which represents the thought as connected and flowing.
All thought in a cultivated and disciplined mind is con:

231

A burnt child dreadeth the fire. He that stum bleth twice
at one stone is worthy to break - his shins. · • Thou mavest
happily forswear thyself, but thou 'shalt ne ver delude 'me.

233-

SUBJECTIVE v PROPEilTIES.

NATURALNESS.

I know thee 'now as readily by thy visard as by' thy" visage
It is .a bl in~ goose that lrnoweth not a fox from a fern-bush;
a~d. a fool_1sh fellow that cannot.discern cn~~t ~rom . conr
:icience, bemg once cozened.
'
· · · · -"

of continuousness or its opposite may be represented to a
great degree. The length, the implication and interdcpen
dence of the parts, the arrangement of the several members,
the imagery, whether derived more from individual objects
or extended scenes, from particular features or connected
parts-all these various aspects of the sentence may exhibit_.
more or less, the continuous or tho fragmentary character of
the thought.
'· It should be observed, in this connection, that much will
depend on the particular hnbits of the individual speaker
whether his style will more nahirally be continuous or sententious and abrupt. Simplicity, earnestness, and directness
incline more to short, disconnected expressions. Expanded
views, fulness of thought, cautiousness and wariness lead
to a more extended,_ connected and continuous style. Continuousness is nn excellence only" •vhen ..it is natural. A
broken, abrupt, saltatory sty le, unless obviously determined
by the character of the thought, never pleases long. Even
the pithy sententiousness of Lord Bacon's style wearies.
Strong thought may save such a style: it is not commended
by it.

·":!.•

..t

•

§ 300. For expressing this continuity in the thougii,_t
language provides,
· .
. , ~,i

.

In the first place, a great v_ariety of wqrds designeq
for this very purpos~ ;
·"
Secondly, it allows the use of many forms for this
object. that are also employed for other purposes of.
speech ; and
. ._
-.: s
Thirdly, It admits of a peculiar structure of the
. ..,. -:..rtl
sentence·which is adapted to this sole ernL
" How great an excellcnoe this is in speech is shown ·at
once in the fact that the human reason in the framing of
speech has contrived and furnished so many expedients for
binding discourse together, which without them is justly
~ompared to '.~sand without lime."~ It is one of the pecuJ
liar excellencies of the Greek tongue that it abounds in sue!{
connectives which, while they show the relations of ·tlie
t~ought, at the same time give to the ·expression of it cohesion and compactness.
Of proper connectives we have in languao-e. 1. Conjunctions of all species, both cop~lative, adversahve, conditional, illative, &c.;
2. Relatives of all kinds, whether pronouns or such adverbs as accordingly, thus, therefore, &c., and adjectives
of order and others;
·
· '
'
3. Forms of expression aprropriated to this object, as
"to continue," "to add," &c.
·
In the general structure of the -sentence, also, the property.

* Arena sine calce.-Sencca.

-

·,/

CHAPTER IV.
0

OF NATURALNESS IN STYLE,

§ 301. NATURALNESS is a property which appears
in style so far as it represents the particular state of
the speaker's mind at the time of speaking.

The other two subjective properties of style are general,
being founded on the nature of thought. , Naturalneslj is
20-1<

235

SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

NATURALNESS.

founded on the peculiar mental condition of the individual
speaker. · "
-. .
- ~ Every one has his own modes of thinking. He has his
own modes of viewing truth. His feelings have their own
peculiar characteristics. The same ideas, evr.n, passing
through two different minds, or through the same mind at,
different times and in different circumstances, become to a
considerable degree modified in their character.
; ·Every one has, also, his own manner of expression. His
range of words is peculiar. The structure of his sentences
is peculiar. His formz of illustration, his images are
peculiar.
:.~ Every writer and every speaker, thus, has his own man-:
ner.'. One is more diffuse, another more concise; one morl!
lean and jejune, another more copious and luxuriant; one
is more florid, another more plain; one more dry, another
more rich and succulent; one more nervous or vehement,
another more feeble or tame; one more neat and elegant>
another more careless and loose; one more elevated and
~tately, another more familiar and free. The speaker's own
manner best becomes him. While he is careful to avoid
positive faults, and particularly those of excess, to vary and
enrich with all the various excellencies that can be admitted
into his style, he should still preserve his own manner, as
scarcely any thing is more offensive than a strained, affected,
unnatural style of expression. · For the purpose of forming
a style, it may be safe to select a model and strive to
imitate. .This may, indeed, be recommended within certain
limits and in strict subjection to certain principles. Even
here, however, the better course is to study the different
elements of expression or properties of style, and exercise on
those especially in which there is consciousness of deficiency,
using other w:iters or speakers remarkable for those proper•

·tics rather as exemplifications than as models for imitation.
But when actually engaging in the work of conveying
thought and feeling to others, the speaker or writer should
banish from his mind all thought of this or that style or manner, and allow a free spontaneous expression to his thoughts.
Reason must, indeed, preside over all discourse. But its
influence in scc°uring rational discourse should be exerted
rather in determining; arid shaping the mental habits, and
character on every exertion of tl1e
thus impression·
its hio-h
b
b
mind while the life and beauty of spontaneous action is still
preserved. This is, indeed, the end and object of all triie
intellectual discipline. Excessive care, at the time of con·
structing discmirse, to preserve from every thing faulty,
may be injurio1ts. In writing, at _least, it is better to wtite
freely and correct afterwards.

§ 302. Naturainess in style i'cspects the pe1'son, the
offiCial character and standing of the speaker, and the
subject and occasion of his discourse,

§ 303. The personal characteristics of
determined either more directly by the
thought, howeYer formed, peculiar to the
speaker, or more indirectly by his physical

style am
habits of
individual
habits.

• There is a singular beauty in that sty le which is the free
and unforced expression of the speaker's own thoughts with
all their peculiar characteristics. It must yet be ever borne
in mind that low thoughts an'cl low imagery, even although
'expressed naturally, must necessarily be offensive. It cannot therefore be too earnestly enjoined on the mind ·that is
• forming its habits and character to ·s hun with the utmost
C:are every thing that can vitiate its taste, debase its senti·
·ments, or corrupt the v·erbal and sensible material in which
, its thoughts are to embody themselves; and to cultivate

236

v

stHiiECTl E Fn.oilER't'tt!!:.

. .·" NATURALNESS.

assiduously, on the other ha.nd, familiarity with all that ii
pure and ennobling in thought and sentiment, and .all th~t
, is lovely and beuutifu-I in language nod in the various kinds
of sensible imagery employed in expression. Both of these
objects should be kept distinctly in view, viz: the purity
and elevation oi the thought itself, and the material which
is used for embodying thought. Every man bus, in an i~­
porbl.nt sense, Ii language of his own, Both the range pf
. words, and the ~ensible . objects and scenes, as well as all
thl! . various moon~ of 'Communicating and illustrating
thong-ht, are petuliat, within certain limits, to the individual.
Hen'Ce arises the imperious necessity of care and labor i~
jJrovitling for a pure and elegant as well as a natural
.· .e°xptession of thought by avoiding ' al~ low ussociations both
of words and images .
The physical condition and habits of the speaker have
much to do with his style. Speech is, materially, a physical effort; and must, consequently, he vitally affected by
the condition of the body. Especially do the more proper
vocal organs, or those parts. of the body which are · more
·dir.ectly concerned in sp~king, exert an influence on sty le.
The culture of the voice in elocution is, therefore, important
to the highest skill in constructing discourse for delivery.
In prep&ring such discourse the writer will ever, even if
unconsciously to himself, consult his powers of utterance.
Observation abundantly shows bow a naturally imaginative
nod highly impassioned sty le may be gnd ually changed into
ono that is dry and tame by the continued influence of the
conviction of an rnability appropriately to deliver strongly
impassioned discourse. A conscious power and skill to
. express with effect the most highly wrought discourse will,
on the other band, ever be stimulating to the production of
... >tf

237

it. Iifdeed, the imagi~ed effect of his wri.ting~ as prcno~n­
ced by himself will ever control the wnter i_n prepan~g
thought for communication to others. He will not wnte
sentences that he cannot pronounce, on the one hand; and,
on the other, he will be secretly prompted to write in such
a manner as best to display bis skill in delivery.
\Vbile naturalness requires that discourse be a free reprentation of the speaker's own mind and character, it forbids
SC
d
, t d
nil direct reference to himself. This fault, enomrna c
egotism, is always exceedingly offensive.

§ 304. The official character and standing of the
speaker should ~vcr so oontrol s~yle as t'.iat while it i~
not suffered to predominate in his a ttention at all ove1
bis subject or the design of his discourse, it yet sh~ll
prevent every thing incompatible with such official
standing.
I spea k er_rnus t. P~y Jo bis. official
. The regard whic1i tie
standincr and relations must be a .control I mg one; and yet
only i1n °subordination to that which he is to pay to ~ther
. crs Official propriety is only one, and a subordmate
th l!Jt>
•
.
.
d.
one, of thos e species of propriety which must appear 1Il is"
course.
§ 305. The snbject arid the ocr.asion of the dis-

the mind . of the
. course, as tlley m ust affect stronrrly
o
speaker, will also leave their impression,s on his style,
in rendcrinrr it more earnest arid elevated, more s~ately
and dignifi:d ; or more light and familiar.
J
I ow, an d the middle
. h, tie
The distinction of the h 1g
styles of oratory recognized by the ancients waa .founded
mainly on the subject (l.Dq the occasion of the ~i~cou_rse,
Other things, it is tn1e, W(lrc regarded in the d1shI1<;hO.ll~

238

SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

as personal peculiarities. Homer thus distributes the differ•
ent styles among three of his leading characters.-!< Still,
l"rhen the attempt was made by rhetoricians to determine
the province of these separate styles they generally fell back
on the subject. Thus Cicero, Is erit igitur eloquens, qui
poterit parva summisse, rnudica temperate, magna graritcr

dicere.-Orat. 29.
The following will serve to illustrate what different character the occasion or the subject will impress on style even
when the same thought is to be conveyed. Horner thus
describes the morning:
The saffron morn, with early blushes spread,
: , Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed,
'Vith ~cw-born day to g ladden mortal sight,
And gild the oon rs e of heaven with sacred light.
., Butler, in his Hudibras, thus describes the same scene:
The sun had long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his ' nap;
And, like a lobster boiled, the morn
From black to red began to turn.

239

NATURALNESS.

so much weight and importance. Bu~ whether I put. the
present numbers too high or too low .is a matte: of little
moment. Such is the strength with which populatwn ~h o ots
in that part of the world, that, state the num hers a~ l11gh as
we will, whilst the dispute contin~ies the exal;"gerahon ends.
Whilst we are discussing any given magmtude, they arc
grown to it. Whi~st we spen.d .our time in deliberating on
the mode of govermng two millwns, we shall find we have
millions more to man:l're. Your clnldren do not grow faster
from infancy to manl~ood, than they sp.read from families
to communities and from rillages to nut10ns.
Dr. Johnson, in his pamphlet entitled "Taxation no
Tyranny," aiming at an entirely opposite object, to disparage
tJ1e colonies, uses the foll owing language in respect to the
snnw point:
But we are ~oon told that the continent. of North America
contains three millions, not 9f men merely, but of whigs;
of whigs fierce for liberty, and disd~inful of d?minion; that

they multj_ply with the fecundity of their own rattf~­
snakes; so that every quarter oi a century doubles thei.r

numbers . .

Burke, in his speech on Conciliation with America, was
led to .speak .in the following terms of the rapid increase of
pc.,pulation in the colonies:

I can by no calculation justify myself in placing the
number below two millions of inhabitants of our own
European blood and color; besides at least five hundred
thousand ot.hers~ w~w form .no inconsiderable part of the
whole.. This, sir? 1s, I believe, about the true number.
There 1s no occas10n to exaggrrate, when plain truth is of
11- Ea ipHa genera dlcendi jam nntiquitus tradita nb Homero sunt
tria in tribus; magnificum in Ulyxe et ubertum, subtile in M'enelaa
et cohibitum, mixtmn mo<leretumque in Nes.tore.-Getl. VII. 14
See nlso Quint. Inst. Oral. II, 17, 8; XII, Io, 63, 64. Cle. Orat."
23-29.
.

"
"l.
.
I

~

'

:.

:~

" .:i~r"!·~p,·
. ., .. ·. ~i'\' -

GENERAL VIEW.

'.}-. ... ~-

..,.. ~"' <.' •..

"r

PART IIl.--OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

- -·-·
CHAPTER J,
GENERAL. VIEW,

§ 306.

of style are
those which are determined to discour~e by a regard
to the effect on the mind addressed. § 244.
THE OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES

. 'l'he objec!iv~ properties presuppose the other two classes
of properties, and are founded, in part at least, upon them.
They differ, sometimes, only in degree; as clearness, which
is an objective property, may often be only significance in
a higher degree, which is a suggestive property. Energy,
_also, another objective property, presupposes harmony, an
absolute property) as well as others of that class. But it
may be necessary, ho1Vever, for the sake of effect, often to
- regard those other classes of properties more than would
- otherwise be required by any consideration of the nature of
s~l~
.
But this objective use of language, for effect on other
minds, requires some characteristics of sty le that are distinguished from the absolute and subjective properties, not in
degree merely, but also in kind. Many of the tigures of
speech, so called, fer instance, are of this character.
The circumstance that the subjective properties presuppose
those of the other classes and are founded, in part upon

241

them will account for tbe fact that, in some cases, the consideration of the same property may belong in common to
different parts of rhetoric.-1< There is, notwithstanding, an
obvious and radical distinction between the three different
classes.
§ 307. The objective properties are, all, in their nature relative, and must vary with the various character of the mind addressed.

It is hardly necessary to advance any formal illustrations
of the truth of this proposition. What is clear to one mind
may be obscure to another. What is impressive and
beautiful to one, may be dull and dry to another.
It is still to be observed that all minds have common
properties; and there are laws applicable to all alike, which
control the exercises of the intellect,.the feelings, and the
taste. There are, consequently, principles of style which are
founded on the general and invariable character of tho
human mind. Those characteristics· _which render a dis•
course clear to one mind will, to a certain extent, be requisite to make it so to every other mind.
§ 308. The objective properties of style are
NEss, EKERGY, and ELEGANCE.

CLEAR·

It is obvious that in order to affect another mind to tlie
highest degree by discourse, it must not only contain
thought,-be ·significant, but, also, be susceptible of _ready
interpretation. It must be clear.
·
· In order, farther, to a vivid effect upon the int~Hect and'
feelings, discourse must bear on its face the charncter of life
It may be proper to remark here, that in order to avoid unnecessary repetition, some observations are made under one claw. of ·
properties which might properly fall under another,

21

-242

CLEARNESS.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTI ES.

and vigor. The thought must be addressed in lively, glowing language. · Discourse must be energetic.
Once· more, the same end of discourse cannot well be
effected without regard to the aesthetic properties of ·the
mind; in other words, without regarding the taste of those
addressed.
These three properties are all which a consideration of the
effect of discourse req uires in style. exclusive of those which
the nat ure of language and the mental condition of the
•speaker impose.

243

some s-acrifice of clearness. Still more is this the case in
excitation and persuasion. Passion, here, sometimes triumphs over reason; and sympathy outruns argument.
Wherever, again, vehement feeling enters into discourse,
energy should strongly prevail over mere elegance. On the
other hand, in gentle excitement of feeling, elegance is elevated, relatively, to a higher rank.

CHAPTER IL

§ 309. Of the thre.e objective properties of style,

clearness is, in order of importance, the first and most
indispensable ; energy is next in importance ; and elegance last and lowest.
Clearn ess is most indispe nsable, since if discourse is not
understood, it can not be felt. Just so far as it is unintelligible, it fails of its very end. Wherever, therefore, clearness comes into collision with energy, it should have the
precedence. But yet, as clearness is a property that admits
of degrees, and what is slightly obscure may .be still intelligible · although only with effort, a high degree of energy
may sometimes be properly preferred to a slightly increased
degree of clearness.
, .Farther, energy must be obviously regarded, in all proper
oratory, as of superior importance to elegance; while, at the
Bame time, it may be expedient to sacrifice a little energy
to gain a high degree of bea uty.
The cl~aracter of discourse will, however, affect the relative properties. In explanatory discourse, where the object
is to inform, clearness is decidedly the rulin g property; and
its claims far outweigh all others. In conviction, energy
rises relatively in importance, and may properly require

OF CLEARNESS.

§ 310.

in style requires that the thought
be so presented that the mind a ddressed shall apprehend it readily and without labor.
CLEARNESS

It is not enough that the speaker himself readily apprehend the thought, or that the discourse be clear to hi mself;
or tlrnt it may be readily intelligible to a cer tain class of
minds. Clearness, as a relative property of style, § 30 7,
requires that the particu lar mind addressed be regarded,
and that care be taken to ad:i.pt the discourse to its capacity
of app rehension .
Nor, far ther, is it enough that even the mind addres;ed
may, on sufficient stud y and reflection, be able to make out
the sense. The discourse, says Quintilian, should enter th e
mind, as the ,sun the eye, even altho ugh not intently fixed
upon it; so that pains are necessary not merely that the
hearer may be able to understand it, but that he can in no
way fail to understand it.-i<
~ Ut in animum ejus oratio, ut sol in oc ulos, etiamsi in eam
non intendatur, incurra t. Quare n on, ut int elligere possit, sed ne
omnino possit n on intelligcre, cnrandum.-Orat. Inst. III. 2, 23, 24.

CLEARNESS.

OBJEC'l'IYE JUJ,O,PEI!.'l'IES.

§ 311. · Cfoarness depends on a right consideration
of. three different things in discourse, viz:
,.:1.. The kind of words employed ;
·; 2. The representative imagery; and ·
,.
3. The structure of the sentence.
§ 312. The kinds of words to be preferred for the
sake of securing _clearness, are
1. Such as are grammatical in opposition to barbarisms;
2 . Anglo Saxon words;
3. Such as are not equivocal or ambicruous · and
•
0
'
4. Simple and specific in distinction from the more
generic.
All the varieties of barbarisms enumerated in § 289, are
to the popula~ mind generally obscure or unintelligible, just
so far as not m use. It should be remarked, however, that
w~1ether barbarisms are clear or otherwise to a particular
mmd, depends on the circumstance of its havino- been
familiar with them or not. To the scholar, archaisbms are
not always obscure; nor to I.he man versed in a particular
art or science, are the technicalities of that- art obscure.
They may be to him, indeed, the cloarest of all classes of
11·~rds. But so far as discourse is intended for the popular
mmd generally, all barbarisms should, for the sake of clearness, be avoided.
'· When, on the other hand, the discourse is addressed to a
particular class of minds, the words more f~miliar to that
class are preferable as conducive ·to -clearness. An address
to sailors may, thus, consistently ·with clearness, abound
with nautical terms.
The following sentences are faulty in respect to the use
of this species of words.
•

•.Ao_... •"'

245

·,. 'rack to the larboard and stand off to sea,
. _Veer starboard sea and land.-Dryden's .IE11eid.
He that works by Thessalic ceremonies, by charms and
nonsense words, bv fio·ures and insignificant characterisms,
by ima"'es and by ra";,·s, by cirdes and imperfect noises,
hath m~re ad vantage ~nd real title to the opportunities of
mischief, by the cursing tongue.-!. Taylo1's S ermons.
God begins his cure by caustics, by incisio.ns and i_nstruments of vexation, to try if the disease that will not yield to
the allectives of cordials and perfumes, frictions and baths,
may be forced out by .deleterics, scarifications, and more salutary, but less pleasing physic.-Zd.
Anglo-Saxon words, as belonging to the original stock of
our languag·e and constittiting the truly vernacular part of
it, so to speak, are more significant and in telligible to the
English mind than those of Latin or French origin, and are
on this· account to be preferred. Even radical words of
Latin origin with Anglo-Saxon terminations are, often, more
expressive and cl ear than those regularly fo rmed with Latin
.....
terminations. Hence, perhaps, it is we find so many hybrid
terms in our language ; snch as lucidness, passiveness, tardiness, instead of lucidity, &c.
It is to be observed, however, that in order to greater
precision and exactness in the use of language, words of different stocks have become apprupriated, respectively, to different shades or applications of the general idea denoted by
the original word . \Vord s of Latin derivation have, thus,
in many cases, been introduced for the purpose of denoting
only one specific shade of the general meaning which is expressed by tho proper word, both in the Anglo-Saxon and
the Latin language. Hence, inasmuch as precision is an
element of clearness, a Latin word denoting such a particular aspect of the general idea may be more clear than the
corresponding term of Anglo-Saxon origin. Thus the words

21"'

--

----

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

' CLEARNESS.

human, humane, and manly have originally the same sig~
nification; so also, journal, diary, and daily; igneous and

it was overlooked by one ·man, and many passages wholly
written .by ..another"; discharge, as,

fiery.
· In such cases, the Latin word will often be found to be
most perspicuous.
Equivocal words are of four different classes: 1. Primitives, to which use has somehow appropriated different significations, of which kind of words the number is very
great in all languages; as coin, which signifies a corner or
wedge, and also a die or money stamped by a die; helm,
which denotes both a defense for the head and the instrument by which a ship is steered.
· The relative pronouns who, which, and that are used
both to explain and also to limit and restrain the word or
words to which they refer. They are, in other words, as
Dr. Campbell designates them, explicative or determinative.
They are explicative in the following sentences:
Man, who is born of woman, is of few days and full of
~~w~

.

Godliness, which with contentment is great gain, has -the
promise of the present life and of the future.
·-~.'}'hey are determinative in the following:
The man that endureth .to the end shall be saved.
The remorse, which issues in reformation, is true repenta~~

.

They are more or less equivocal in the following:
· I know that all words which are signs of complex ideas
furnish matter of mistake and cavil.
2. Derivatz"ves and compounds; as mortal, which has
both an active and a passive sense, as in the sentence, "As
for such animals as are mortal or noxious, we have a right
to destroy them"; consumption, as, "Your majesty has lost
all hopes of any future excises by their consumption"; and
in compounds, overlook, as, "The next refuge was to say,

247

'Tis not a crime to attempt what I decree,
Or if it were, discharge the crime on me.
Dryden's ./.Eneid.

I
I

I
I
I

3. Inflected words, or those which are equivocal in consequence of a similarity of inflection in different words; as,
"She united the great body of the people in her and their
common interest"; , "I have long since learned to like
nothing but what you do."
Equivocal words are either properly ambiguous, or
homonymous. A properly ambiguous word is one which
has come to be used in different significations, as, nervous,
which means either of strong nerves or of weak ne-rves.
Homonyms are words which, of a different origin, have
accidentally assumed the same form, as mass, a heap, and
mass, a catholic religious service.
.
Individual and more specific words are to be preferred to
those which are more generic, because individual and specific
objects are ·more easily apprehende.d than abstract and
generic.
·
4. Words which become equivocal by position, as in the
following instances:
The argument is very plausible, certainly, if not entirely
conclusive.
The lecture was well attended and generally interesting.
§ 313. Th'e representative imagery employed for
the communication of thought should for the purpose
of clearness, be derived from such objects and truths
as are familiar to the mind addressed ; and, also, be
in itself susceptible of a ready interpretation.
" This element of cl~arness is founded upon the symb~lical

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

properties of language, § 281. From the very nature : of,
language, regarded as symbolical or picture-like, it will be
obvious that the symbol or picture itself must be knowp. by
the hearer or he can not interpret it. Here the same observations apply to some extent that have been already made in
reference to words of populrrr use. While all minds may
be supposed to be conversant with the great phenomena of
nature that daily ex hibit themselves to the senses, yet even
these specifically differ in different parts of the earth. Hence
the inhabitant of sunny Greece may readily understand
language that pictures the thought and sentiment through
images drawn from his own daily observation, which would
be unintelligible to· one who dwells under a colder and a
cloudier sky. The representative imagery of the Bible was
doubtless clear to the orientalist for whom more immediately
it~ was written, while it is often extremely obscure and . unintelligible to others. A style that abounds in classical
imagery is clear to the scholur; but unmeaning to the unedu- ·
cated. The sermons of Jeremy Taylor, which employ this
kind of representative imagery to a great extent, would
entirely fail of effect, from their unintelligibleness, on a
common audience. - Those discourses; also, which, to' an
audience familiar with the scriptures, are perfectly clear, we
know from actual occurrences are unmeaning even to an
intelligent mind that has not been conversant with the Bible.
. Farther, even when the mind addressed may be sup"posed
to be familiar with the sources of the imagery, care is necessary to present it in such a manner as that it shall be easily
intelligible.
· 1
•.The following are exemplifications of offenses against
th ese principles of clearness:
1
They thought there was no life after this; or if there
were, it was without pleasure, and every soul thrust iuto a. •

' CLEARNESS.

249

hole, and a dorter of a span's length allowed for his rest,
and for his walk; and in the _shades below, no numbering
of healths by the numeral letters of Philenium's name, no
fat mullets, no oysters of Lucrinus, no Lesbian or Chian
wines. Therefore now enjoy the delicacies of nature, and
feel the descending wines distilled through the limbcck of
thy tongue and larynx, and suck the delicious juices of
fishes, the marrow of the laborious ox, and the tender lard
of Apulian swine, and the condited bellies of the scarus; but
lose no time, for the sun drives hard, and the shadow is
long, and "the days of mourning are at hand," but the
number of the days of darkness and the grave cannot be
told.-J. Taylo1·.
So neither will the pulse and the leeks, La vinian sausages,
and the Cisalpine suckets and gobbets of condited bull'11flesh, minister such delicate spirits to the thinki og man;
but his notion will be fiat as the noise of .the Arcadian portl(.f, and thick as the first juice of his country lard, unless
he makes his body a fit servant tc the soul, and both fitted
for the employrnent.-Jd.
.....
§ 314. Clearness, as depending on the structure of

the sentence is affected either by the brevity of the expression, or by the relation between the parts of the
sentence.
§ 315. Brevity is opposed to clearness whenever,
1. Through want of copious and ample illustration,
the thought is not held up sufficiently long before the
mind for thorough apprehension ; or
2. For want of completeness, the whole thought is
not presented.
·
Different minds differ much in regard to quickness of
apprehension. The speaker should, therefore, inquire carefully of himself, whether through natural dullness of apprehension, or through want of familiarity with the subject,
the mind addressed requires more or less time for contem•

:250

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

plating the thought in order to apprehend it; and amplify
the expression accordingly. He should, likewise, consult
the state of the speaker's mind at the time. When the
mind is excited and attentive, the npprehension is quicker
than when it is dull and uninterested. In the more animated parts of the discourse, accordingly, greater brevity is
admissible. It is then less necessary to amplify the thought
-to carry out the expression to perfect completeness. Brief
hints and suggestions may be sufficient to put the hearers in
possession of the entire thought.
Repetition is generally to be preferred to obscurity or
ambiguity. Dr. Campbell exemplifies this principle by the
following passage, in which the words, his father, are
repeated three times without disagreeable effect. "We said
to my lord, The lad cannot le:i ve his father; for if he shoiJ]d
leave his father, his father would die."
The following sentences are faulty in this respect:

If he delights in these studies, he can have enough of
them . He may bury him self in them as deeply as lie
pleases. He may revel in th em in cessantly, and eat, drink,
and clothe himself with them.
How immense
profane.

th~

differe nce · between the pious and

§ 316. Clearness, as depending 0~1 the relation of
the parts of the sentence, is affected
\
1. By the use of the relative words in it i'
\.
2. By the arrangement of the different members;
and

3. By the interposition of parenthetical clauses.
§ 317. Relative words may either be too remotely
separated from their antecedents, or may be of ambiguous reference.
"·

· CLEARNESS.

251 .

. The following are examples of this Class of faults:
a. Too 1·emotely separated;

· servants ever liberal and
God heapeth f avors on 1ns
faithful.
b. Of ambiguous reference;""
Lysias promised to his fafher never to abandon his friends.
Dr. Prideaux used to r elate that when he brought th~
co
of his "Connection of th e Old and New .Testaments
to
bookseller, he told him it was a dry subject, h'l.nd
II printing could not be safe ly ventured upon unless e cou
J. enliven the work with a little humor.
Thus I have fairl y .,.iven you, Si r, my own opinion ~swell
as that of a great majority of_ both houses ~ere, relatrng ;o
this weighty affair; upon w h1ch I am conhdcnt, you m y
securely reckon.
.
.
They were summoned occasionully by th.e1r ~.rngs, when
compelled by their wants and by their foes to have recourse
to their aid.
.
He conjured the senate, that the purit,r of his reign might
not be stained by the blood even of a gmlty senator.
He atoned for the murder of an innocent son, by the execution perhaps of a guilty wife.
Their intimacy had commence~ in the happier period,
perhaps, of their youth and obscurity.
We do thosa things frequently that we repent of afterwards. ·
·
Sixtus the Fourth, was, if I mistake not, a great collector
of books at least.--Bolingbrolce.

~he

ty~

f

• Reinhard in his ~iemoirs nnd Confessio ns says, " I have always
had considerable difficulty in making a proper use of prono~ns .. Ind d I have taken great pains so to use th em, that all amb1gu1ty by
t:e 'cference to a wrong antecedent should be impossible, and yet
ha:: often failed in the attempt. " " " That it is difficult to
avoid all obscurity of this kind I am ready to ack~owledge. It can
often be done only by completely changing the tram of thought and_
_casting it into another form.-Letler III, Boston Ed. pp. 102-3.

252

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves ag!}inst the accidents of life, by heaping up treasures, which nothing can
protect us against, but the good providence of our Heavenly
Father.-S!terloc k.
Men look with an evil eye upon the good that is in others,
and think that th eir reputation obscures them, and that their
commendable qualities do stand in their light; and therefore
they do what they can to cast a cloud over them, that the
bright shining of their virtues may not obscure tbem.-Tillotson.
This work in its full extent, being now affiicted with an
asthma, and finding the powers of life gradually declining,
he had no longer courage to undertake.-Johnson.

§ 318. In respect to the arrangement of the members of a sentence, clearness requires
1. That the parts of the complex thought be pre-sente<l in their relative prominence and dependence;
2. That the related clauses be kept in close proximity; and

3. That the order be such as to indicate the depeudence and connection.
l. Relation of leading and subordinate thoughts.
Tl1is relation is not regarded in the following ·sentences:
After we came to anclior, tliey put me on shore, where I
was welcomed by all my friends, who received me with the
greatest kindness.
~

In this sentence, it is difficult to tell which is the leadinp
thought; or on which circumstance the writer intended to
fix the attention of his readers. The unity of the sentence;
by the failure to express the due subordination of the parts,
is destroyed, The same iault is seen in the following sentences:
The usual acceptation takes profit and pleasure for two ·
different things, and not only calls the followers or votaries ..

CLEARNESS.

b

253

several nam es of' busy and idle men, but distinthat are.
them calling the operations of the first \~Is om, an o 1
' "t
I ·ch i·s a Saxon word, that is used to exp ress
other w1 w 11
'
·
·
•
d ti F · I
what the 'Spaniards un<lltulians call zngenzo, an
ie ; ~n~ l
esprit both from th e Latin; but I think wit more ~ecu
y
signifi~s that of poetry' as may occur upon remar s on ie
Runic language.-Tem.ple.
.
,
.
s
death,
rnto
. suppose d to ha ve fallen ' by !us father
H e 1s
,
·
C.
h
the hands of his un cle, a vintner, near Charing . 10ss, ~
ome time to Dr Busby, at vVestmrnster; u ' .
t I . 1·
· b eyon d ti1at of th e
sen . nm
t d"or s t o-iv e him a ny· ed ucat10n
no~o1:i e~o~~ghit~ "'w hen he was well advanced in liter~t~e,
:~his 'own hons;, where the Earl of D orset, Bcelebrtatel· tor
.
foun d I um
· by chance
patronao-e of cre mus,
. ' as urne
. I l re
. a es,
r~adinO""Hor~ce, and was so we ll pleased '.v1t.1 us pr~
'.
" ti 1at · he und er took the
care
fi c1ency,
. .
if Pand. cost of his academ1cal e<lucation.- Johnson's Life o . rzor . .

~~i~~ee~ t:C faculties of the mind

c~nversa~t a:~t:

ia;I

t

- 2. Pro:i:iinity of related clauses.
The following sentences offend'Ugainst this principle of clearness.
The moon was casting a pale light . on the numerous
"raves that were scattered before me, as it :ee~ed ~hove~he
horizon when I opened the small gate oft e c urc -ynr .
Ther: will, therefore, be two trials i.n tl}is town ta; th~
time, which are punishable with death, if a u 11 cour s 1ou
attend.
.
M r Dryden makes a very .handsome o?servahfo~) on
from Dido to JEneas, lil the o ow0 v1.d;s wn"t'rng a letter
·
.ing words.
. 3. Order of dependence. . In the following sentences
it is difficult to determine which is the subject and ·Which
the object of the verb:
, And thus the son the fervent sire addressed.
The risinO" tomb a lofty column bore.
.
In the following, the dependence of the Italicised . clause
is obscurely represented:
As it is necessarv to , have the head clear as well as the
•
22

254

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

complexion, to be perfect i n th~·s part of learning, I rarely
mingle with the men, but frequent the tea-tables of the ladies.

CHAPTER III.

255

In the following sentence obscurity is occasioned by the
OF ENERGY.

position of the relative word before its antecedent:
When a man declares in autumn, when he is eating them,
or in spring when there are none, that he loves grapes.

§ 319. Clearness is often violated hy the introduction of long parenthetical clauses, and especially of
parentheses containing other parentheses within themselves.

§ 320. ENERGY is that property in style by means
of which the thought is impressed with a peculiar
vividness or force on the mind addressed.
This property of sty le has been variously deno minated,
as vivacity, strength, and energy; all which term s, from
their etymology, point at once to the nature of the property

The writings of the Apostle Paul, which are characterised
more by energy than by clearnesii, are remarkable for this
introduction of long and involved parentheses. A remarkable instance occurs in his epistle to the Ephesians. The subject of the verb is in the first verse of the fourth chapter.
The following extracts furnish further exemplifications of the

.
designated by th em.
For the sake of clearness it will be convenient to conSl<ler
this property in respect to its two species ; as secured to
sty le in accordance with th e other properties, or only by a
certain deviation from these properties. -· See § 306.

same fault:

energy is secured to style in accordance
with the other properties ;
FIGURATIVE energy, by a greater or less deviation

It was an ancient tradition, that when the capitol was
founded by one of the Roman Kings, the god Terminus,
who presided over boundaries, and was represented according
to the fashion of that age, by a large stone, alone, among
all the inferior deities, refused to yielrl his place to Jupiter

himself.-Gihbon's Rome.
The description Ovid gives of his situation, in that first
period of his existence, seems, some poetical embellishments
excepted, such as, were we to reason a priori, we should
conclude he was placed in.-Lancaster on Delicacy.

§ 321. Energy is either proper or figurative.
PROPER

from them.
Without o-oincr out of the range of the other properties
b
"
d'fi d
enumerated, it is obvious style may be more or less mo 1 e
in accordance with their principles with a view to energetic
effecL Such modifications, made with a view to such a
vhid impression, come properly under consideration und er
th e head of energy.
But discourse admits of modifications with a view to
energy, which are not properly dicta ted by any principles
that belong to these other properties. It is often turned
from the direction in which it would flow if those properties
alone controlled it. The verbal expression of thought as

'256

257

OBJECTIVE ' PR-OPEHTIES.

ENEHGY.

thus turned from its natural course is termed figurative
expression.

Lalin and French words and idioms, it is obvious the former should be habitually studied and committed to memory,
while the others should be left for maturer reading. ConHrsa tion generally prefers Anglo-Saxon words. Even Dr.
Johnson himsell~ in the familiarity and ea rnestness of his
ordinary conversation, employed Anglo-Saxon words, which
in his written disco urse he unhappily translated into a latinized dinlect.1< Hence the study of language as employed in
common life is highly useful to the orator in this respect.

I

§ 322. Proper energy depends on the kind of word 8
.employed, the number and the arrangement of them
m the sentence.
§ 323: Energy requires, in respect to the kinds of
words employed, that
'Those of Anglo-Saxon origin, be preferred to others;
Those of national and popular use to barbarisms,
whether foreign or technical ; and
·
The more specific to the more generic and abstract.

It is unnecessary to add to the remarks already made
under the head of clearness, § 312, in order to illustrate the
truth and importance of this principle of sty le. It is sufJicient to observe here that ,style admits of grt>at modifications
in respect to tli-e kind of words habitually employed by the
speaker, and that even great energy of tlwught may be lost
in the selection of words that are wanting in this element
of expression. It cannot, therefore, be too earnestly enjoined on the forming speaker to study those authors assiduously who are distinguished for their -use of Anglo-Saxon,
the strictly vernacular and the specific words of our language. It \Viii genera lly be found that the same taste and
the same training which have led to the habitual preference
of one of these classes of words, have made, also, the others
most familiar and pleasing. Care should be taken to make
the classes of words form the body of sound,-the material
in which the thoughts most easily and spontaneously invest
themselves. That this is practicable is proved by the fact
that men learn universally to think in the luncruacre
which is
0
0
spoken around them. As we have authors which are characterised by this excellence and others which abound in

~ 324. In respect to the number of words, the principle of energy i ~, that the utmost brevity consistent
with dearness and with the other principles of energy,
be preserved.

I

In the application of tl1is prin ciple, not only redundant
words and phrases are to be avoided, but, also, the more
direcktnd simple forms of expression are to be preferred to
the more circuitous and prolix. Hence, often, the sentence
should be wholly re-cast.
The following sentences are faulty in respect to this principle:
I went home foll of a great many serious reflections.

I shall suppose, then, in order to try to account for the
vision without a miracle, that as Saul and his company

*

Macaul.ay, in an article in the Edinburgh Review for 1831, gives
!hi! following exemplifications. In one of J ohnson's familiar letters
he say•, "When we were taken up stairs, a dirty fellow bounced out
of the bed on which one of us wno to lie." He records this inoi<lent
in his Journey to the Hebrides thus; "Out of one of the beds on
wbich we were to repose, started up at our entrance, a man black
as a Cyclops from the forge.'' Sometimes he translated aloud,
" The Rehearsal," he s;iid, "bas not wit enough to keep it sweet;"
then, after a pause, "it has not vitality enough to preserve it from
putrefaction."

22*

258

OBJECTI:VE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

were j_ourneying along z'n their way to Damascus, an extraordrnary meteor really did happen.
,

The first element of unity here mentioned has been sufficiently con~id ered under the head of clearness .
The second appears in sty le in the periodic structure,
§ 269, in which the leading member ·of the sentence, being
placed last, binds the whole together into one compact
whole.

. Neither is any condition of life more honorable in the
sight of God th~n another, otherwise he would be a respecter
of persons, wlizch he assures us he is not.
It will often be greatly conducive to . the energetic effect
of the_whole expression, after having presented the thought
for the sake of clearness in a more extended form, to repeat
it .i n a more condensed sentence.
··
The following extract from Burke will furnish an exemplification:
. "YVhen thti _old f~udal and chivalrous spirit of fealty,
wh1_ch, by freerng kings ~rom fear, freed both kings and
subJe~ts from the precaution of tyranny, shall be extinct in
the mmds ~f men, plots and assassinations will be anticipated
by preventive murder and preventive confiscation and that
l?ng roll of grim and bloody maxims, which for~ the political code of all power, not standing on its own honor, and
the honor of tho~e who are to obey it. Kings will be
ty_rants from policy, when subjects are rebels from principle.

§ 325. Energy, in the arrangement of the parts of
a sentence, depends,
First, On the preservation of unity in the general
form of the sentence;
Secondly, On the right disposition of the capital
words and m embers ; and
Thirdly, On the disposition of coordinate or correlative words or members.

§ 326. UNITY in a sentence is preserved by the pre~
sentation of but one leading subject, § 318, and by
the binding together of all the parts in one compact
whole.
'I

{

259

The following are examples of the periodic structure:
While all the Pagan nations consider Religion as one
part of Virtue, the Jews, on the contrary, regard Virtue as a
part of Religion.
For as guilt never rose from a true use of our rational
faculties, so it is very frequently subversive of them. God
forbid that prudence, the first of all the virtues, as well as
the supreme director of them all, should ever be- employed
in the service of any of the vices.-Burke.
There is something in the present business, with all that
is horrible to create aversion, so vilely lo:ithsome, as to excite disgust. It is, my lords, surely superfluous to dwell on
the sacredness of the ties, which those aliens to feeling, those
apostates to humanity thus divided. In such an assembly,
as the one before which I speak, there is not an eye but
must look reproof to their conduct ;-not a heart but must
anticipate its condemnation.--Sheridan.
§ 327. The most conspicuous parts of the sentence
being the commencement and the close: these parts
should, when energy of expression is aimed at, be
given to the capital or leading words and members.
This principle forbids commencing or closing a sentence
with circumstantial words or clauses, unless it is desired to
give them an emphatic distinction. In merely didactic diseourse, such clauses are admissible because they of_ten con. duce to clearness and readiness of apprehension. In earnest
oratory they can never be justified except, as has been just
observed, when they are made emphatic. In this case,

260

OBJECTIVE ' PROPERTIES.

placing them at the beginning or the close at once gi~es
them a high degree of force and impressiveness.
' We find in the Latin language a happy exemplification
of this principle of energy.
vVhen Mucius Scaevola in
Livy wishes to turn the attention of Porsenna on the fact
that he was a Roman, he says, Romanus sum civis. On
the other hand, when Gavius in Cicero's oration against
Verres was urging his rights as a citizen, not merely as a
Rom an, he says, Ci vis Roman us sum. Although the words
are the same, the leading thought being different in the two
cases, Livy places one word at the beginning of the sentence, and Cicero another; and both clearly from mere
reference to energetic effect.
The following sentences are faulty in this respect:
The other species of motion are incidentally blended also,
Every nature you perceive is either too excellent to want

it, or too base to be capable of it.

Seeing the delay of repen~ance doth mainly rely upon the
hopes and encouragem ent of a future repentance let us consider a little how unreasonable these hopes ar~, and how
absurd the encouragement is whiyh men take from them .
But it is absl.\rd to think of judging either Ariosto or
Spenser by precepts which they did not attend to.- lYatson.
There need no _m ore tlian to make such a registry oulv
voluntary, to avoid all the difficulties that can be raised
and which are not too captious or too tri vial to take noti c~
·of.-Templ e.
In like r:ianner, if a person in broad dny-ligl1t were fa lling
asleep, to mtro?uce a sudde~ darkness wou ld prevent his
sleep for that tim e, though silence and darkness in themsel~ es, and not suddenly int roduced, are very favorable to it.
.Tlus I know only by conjecture on the analoo-y of . the
senses when I first diges ted these obserrations · but I have
, since experienced it.- Burke.
'

ENERGY.

261

The following extracts, on the other hand, furnish instances of t.his kind of energy:
In their prosperity my friends shall never hear of me; in
their adversity, always.
True liberty, in my opinion, can only exist when justice
is equally administered to all, to the king, and to the beggar.
Never, BO clearly as in the present inst.ance, ha\·e I observed that safeguard of justice which Providence has placed
in the nature of man.
No : ·I am no emissary-my am bi ti on w n~ to hold a pla~e
nmon cr the deliverers of my country-not m power, not in
profit; but in the glory of the achiev ement! Sell my
country's independence to France I and for what? A
chang·e of masters? No: but for ambition!
Under this species of energy may be ranked what has
been denominated th e Climax; or that structure of the sentence in which the different members succeed each other in
. order of strength or importance? the most impressive being
placed last.
The following are examples:
In the mirldle of the day , at the moment of divine worship, when the miserable husban? ~vas o~ hi.s knees, dir~ct­
inothe prayers and the thanksg1nngs of !us congregation
0
to their God-that moment did the remors eless,.. &c.
Impose upon me whnte ver hardships you please; give me
nothing but the bread of sorrow to eat; fake from n;e the
fri end in whom I had placed my confidence ; lay me m tha
cold hut of poverty and on the thorny bed of disease;· set
before me death in all its terrors; do all this, only let "me
trust in mv Sav ior and I will fear no ev il-I will rise
superior to -~fflictio;-I will rejoice in my tribulation,
.

...

§ 328. In the arrangement of the sentence, further,
coordinate and correlative words and members should
be placed in corresponding parts, so as to answer to each
other and reflect on each other, so to speak, their own
force.

262

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

- ~h~ Lati~1 and Greek languages, through the variety of
their rnflect10ns, admitted this species of energy to a much
greater degree than most modern tongues. Cicero says that
the following expression drew forth wonderful applause f
.

~a~~~=

~

Patris dictum sapiens, temeritas filii comprobavit..ic
The. fol~owing are from his orations; the first from that
·
fur L1ganus, the · second from the oration for R
Amerinus;
oscrns
Nihil habet nee fortuna tua maJ"us quam t
.
natu
t
1·
u poss1s, nee
rn ua ~e rn_s quam ut velis, conservare plurimos
Accusa?t. 11,_ quib~s occidi patrem Sexti Roscii bono fuit:
caus<im ~1c1t Is, cm non modo luctum mars patris attulit'
~erum et1am egestatem.
Accusant ii, qui hunc i su~
ugu!~:de summe cupierunt; causam <licit is, qui etia~ ad
ioc 1 1 em ante oculos vestros trucidetur.

l

. In ou~ own l~nguage, the following sentences may be
g1 ven as 11l ustrations;
Nev:r ?efore were so many opposing interests assions
and pnnc1ples committed to such a decision o~ p
·d'
an atta J
t t th
.
·
one s1 e
. c imen . o e ancient order of things, on the other a
pass10nate desire of change; a wish in some to perpetuate,

'*

Orator '. 63.. Hoc d"
.
,1c h Oreo tantua clamor conc10nis
excitatus
est, ut adm1rab1le est. If the double tro chee at the clo e h· d .,
efi; t "t •
s
a ls
ec ' I IS yet ~UeStionalJle whether the enerrry of the ev
·
·
t
·
.
"
.• press10n
is ~o owmg still more to the admirable arrangement of the words,
w~1!ch are made most perfectly t o answer to each other. I ' PaI
trLS' 'and . 'fili'I .• ~re at th e ex tremes; 'sapiens, and 'temeritns
•
•
111 the middle m JUXta-p osition, and t!Je one at the close, the other
:it the commencemen t of the respective members to which they
belong; and the un-rel:ited word 'dictum• th
, . f
'bl
ro\\ n .ts ar as poss1 e out. of view. The wl1ole sentence is bound torrether b the
y
verb, wl11ch a3 the IJIO>l impartant word occ · tl 1
'
..
' . up1cs ie :1st place
in the sentence. W
.
e ha\e, besules, the m vers:on of the objec t
f l
before the subi ect. T o all th is is to be added tlie · ,
h l
,
.
•
lilrmony o t 10
w o e. 1 here 1s here a combination of m·iny excC"l!w cics of style.

263

in others to destroy every thing; every abuse sacred in the
eyes of the former, every foundation attempted to be demolished by the latter; a jealousy of power shrinking from the
slightest innovation, pretensions to freedom pushed to madness and anarchy; superstition in all its dotage, impiety in
all its fury.
Sullen and ~evere without religion, profligate without
gaiety, you live like Charles the Second, without being an
amiable companion; and, for aught I know, may die, as his
father did, without the reputation of a martyr.
§ 329. As, frequently, it may be desired to weaken
and soften rather than to strengthen the expression,
this object may be effected, for the most part, by means
just the reverse of those which have been prescribed
for imparting energy.
The English language, from the very heterogeneousness
of its origin, allows more than most other languages this
variation in the degrees of energy. The same object may
be represented by a skillful orator in the strongest vividness
and force or in . the most indifferent tameness, simply by
means of a different selection from those words which are
grammatically proper to the object. Herc belong those expressions usually denominated Euphemisms, which are
employed to soften or weaken the impression made by the
more appropriate representation. The following are exemplifications:

I. In the kind of words: The toast concludes with a
patriotic wish for all his persuasion, by the consummation
of which there can be no doubt the hempen manufactures of
this country would experience a very considerable consumption.
For when the restless Greeks sat down
So many years, before Troy town,
And were renowned, as Homer writes,
For well-soale~ boots, no less than fights.

'.~64

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.
ENERGY,
I

2. In tlte .numb~r of words:

§ 333. Tropes may be distribute~ into two classes

They did that which every master would have wished his
servants to do in such au exigency: instead of, they killed
Clodious.
·

accord i'ng as they are founded on a direct resemblance
·
·1 ·
of properties, or an indirect resemblance or s1m1 anty
of relations.
The former class may be denominated simple
tropes; the latter are called metaphors.

3. In the arrangement ef words:
Parturiunt mantes, nascetur ridiculus mus,

§ 330. Figurative energ-y is founded either,
1. On the kind and number of words employed; :

2. On the representative imagery; or,
3. On the structure of the sentence.
The most strictly philosophical treatment of ·figurative
energy, as well as also of clearness, would represent it in
the light of the absolute and subjective properties of style,
and follow the method furnished by the analysis of those
properties. But both to prevent repetition and for convenience and simplicity, it may, perhaps, better be exhibited
under the three heads na~ed above . .

§ 331. These forms of figurative energy which depend on the kind of words employed, are denominated
Tropes,-wbich ·may be defined as folJows: ,. ·
A TROPE is a word emplooed for the sake of energy ,
in a different import from that which is proper ·to it.

It is obvious to r~mark that tropes are founded on the
etymological properties of language.
They are figurative
uses of the proper import of words. A tropical £mpropriety is denomina.ted a catechresis.
.
- § 322. Tropes impart energy to style by represent-

ing the object in a more individval or sensible form
than the proper denomination of it; as sceptre instead
of dominion; H?mer instead of tlte Homeric poems;
Britain instead of the government of Great Britain.

265

I

All tropes are founded on resemblance, or, mo~e philos~
phically speaking, on a more or less perfect identity. This
Partial identity or resemblance can always be traced even
in the most remote cases. Wh en we say, thus ' " The. cres•,,
. t ea d of, "The Mohammedan power.declines,
cent wanes, " ms
. of the flag of that power from its characwe fi rst conceive
t ens
. t'1c symbol ,· and then of the power itself from the. flag
.
which represents it; and in both cases the conception is
. of 1oca I I'd en tity. The place of the
f 0 uncled on a species
t
·
·
the
fla"'.
crescell! 1s rn
,, ' and of the flag. with
. the
. presence· of
d
Without
this
identity,
the Ifmmh
uthority
h
t e power or a
·
has no power to conceive .of the object repres~nted.
t. e
identity respect only one or two obscure particulars~ or, Ill
ot her wor ds, l' f the resemblance be but faint and dim, the
trope is catachrestic-lwrsh and far-fetched. The explana•
tion of tropical energy is hence obvious. By t~e trope, the
mind addressed is placed in a certain place or time or analogous re latl.on, from which it views the object represented;
.
d
as in the trope 'a boisterous multitude,' the ~ind Is refe~re
.
w1"nd swellinoto a f unous
o and roaring, and m that sensible
image perceives the characteristic given in the epithet to the
'multitude.'
Hence, when a word originally tropical ceases, from
familiar use, to call up the sensible OT singul~r object or
scene to which it properly re.fers, it loses its tropical charac-

23

-

266

...

ENERGY.

<-("'

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

Such is th~ t~ndency in the progress of language V•ith
all tropes.
' '
Here we find the explanation of th e fact that the same
discourse pleases an imaginative mind skilled in the use of
language and accustomed to refer the words to the senaible
object which they originally represented , that, to . another
mind, seems .w holly destitute of beauty. Here, too, is found
the explanation of the peculiar energy and beauty of that
species of style which puts the imagination of the reader
. '-· .. ··1
constantly in the way of making this r eference. ·
These general observations apply with equal force to the
·second class of. figures or ,those founded on the representai
tive imagery.
_. .
.

ter.

•

•

•

·'

•••••

1

.....

•

•

•

..••.:

'

.;

i

.

. '·'

§ 334. Simple Tropes are of two species
Those in which .the objects compared differ in degree,
and those in which the objects differ in kind.
A trope of the former species is termed a synecdoche,
as "Cicero" instead of "orato1' ;'' "a sail" for ," a. vessel."
A trope of the latter species is called a metonymy;
as "the father of Jupiter" for "Saturn;"- "the grave"
for "death."
§ 335. SYNECDOCHE is a trope in which either the

part is put for the whole, or a species or individual for
the class. .- · '
Examples of the former variety are;
"England is still flourishing for the instruction of .the
world," for "Great Britain. "-Mirabeau.
"By thousands," for "great numbers."
The following are instances of the latter variety:
Romantts proelio victor, for Romani.

~ .

;.

267

Some village Ha mpden that, with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
· Some mute in o-lorious JJ[ilton here may rest,
Some Cromw~ll, guiltless of his country's blood.
So thou o-ht the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan!
yet L~onidas is trampled by the. timid slave, &c.

§ 336. When the whole is put for a part, or the clas~
for the species or individual, the trope is still called a
synecdoche. In this case, for the most part, the energy
of the expression is weakened.
'To appropriate to one's self,' is more general language
and less forcible than 'to steal.' 'He went to his rest,' is
a softer expression than 'he died.' The use of the plural
·
1ar "I• "
1 srngu
" we " is thus less egotistical than tie
On the other hand, when the ge11eral essence is put for
the individual concrete the trope is often highly energetic;
as, "&_old" for "the money " made from it, as, 'Pai~ my
price in paltry gold.' 'Freedom shrieked,' for 't~ friends
of freedom.'
§ 337. A METONYMY is a trope in which the obj_ect

is represented by a word properly applied to sm1:ethmg
else that differs in kind from the represented object.
The additional energy imparted to the expre_ssion. by this
trope is owing to the circumstance t.lmt the object is r ep~e­
sented by means of one more familiar, or more r~ad1ly
conceived~ in consequence of its being single or cogmzable
bv the senses.
' The diffe;ent varieties of this trope may be thus classified:
·
.:r
•
1. Cause represented by the euect
or vice
versa,• as" gray
hairs" for "old age"; "Milton" for Milton's writings."
This variety is ultimately founded on identity of time, as
the followinois on that of-; place. .
0

268

269

OBJECTIVE PROPERTrns.

ENERGY.

2. Substance by quality, property, or accident, and vice
versa; as," the sun" for" the heat of the sun"; "Brutus"
for " inflexible firmness "; " wealth counts its cattle " for
"the man of wealth."

·Ther; is in these lines an accumulation of metaphors, all
, clearly distinguishable by the characteristic named from
the simple trope. The. winds are said to growl from th~
analogy of the effoct on the mind to the ~rowls of a '.volf.
What growling is to the wolf, the noise of the storm is to
the wind. So the motion of the forest is to the trees what
the fluctuation of the water is to the waving sea._ The
same remark is applicable to 'the howling of the dm over
the battlement.' It is to be observed that in the first and last
of these metaphors there is, besides the metaphor, also, the

Hero belongs the metonymy of the sign for the thing signified, and the reverse; as 'scepter' for 'dominion.'
3. ~he time, for what existed or transpired in it, and t'ice
versa; as, 'antiquity' for 'the men of antiquity;' 'posterity' for 'the future.'
Under this variety is included the metonymy founded on
proximity of time.
·
4. The place, for what is in it or associated with it, and
vice versa; as ., Greece' for 'the Greeks'; 'the forum' for
'a judicial tribunal,' or 'judicial business.'
§ 3~8. A METAPHOR is a trope in which the representatwn of the obj ect is effected by the use of a wor<l
properly denoting something analogous; and is founded
on a rcsr.mblance or identity of relations.
_ A metaphor being founded on an ide: tity of relation is
by this distinguished from simple tropes, § 333. The
nature of the metaphor may be seen from the following
illustrations:
- ·
"Time had plough ed his venerable front. "-The word
"ploughed" is hrre used metaphorically. The use of it is
justified on the ground of the analogy of the effect of literal
ploughing to that oi time. In other words, what the driving
of the plough is to the soil, time was to the forehead. Thr
resemblance on which the metaphor is founded is obviously
one of relation and not of properties.
0 ! when the grow lino- winds contend and all
The sounding forest fl"uctuates in the ;torm
To sink in warm repose and hear the din '
Howl o'er the steady battlements-

figure of personification.
.
.
.
The metaphor often contains in itselt a smiple trope, as
in the following examples:
Metaphors of Synerdoche; "A sea of troubles," for "a
multitude of troubles."
Apollo bade me check my fond desire, .
.
Nor on the vast Tyrrhenian spread my little sml.

In this last instance, the 'Tyrrhenian' is a synecdoche
for any large sea; and it is likewise nsed metaphorically,the vast sea being to a little bark what epic themes were to
the lyric spirit of Horace.
Metaphors of metonymy.

1. Cause and effect.

Bears his bliish ing honors thick upon him.
Streaming Grief his faded cheek bedewed.
Grief is here put for the eff~ct and is characterised metaphorically as stream ing.
2. Substance and property.
Or have ye chosen this place
After the toils of battle, to repose
your wearied virtue?
" Virtue " is here used for the persons to w horn it belongs,
and "wearied vir.tue " is a metaphor.
.
23""

270

271

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY •

. . 3. Time; as, Merciful clime . .' Summer life , f, '
able. !ife.' . .
.
'
· ~r · agree-

· § 341. Those forms of figurative energy which depend on the representative imagery include three

4. Place.

' Bl eeding bosom , for 'grieving heart.' : ··

b § 339. Figurative energy as depending on the nwmer. of
words consists
in a repetition or an o1n·ISSlOll
. Of
·
•
ce1tam words which the ordinary forms of ex
.
d
t d ·
press10n
0 no a m1t or require.
.
§ 340. This class of figures i'ncludes Figurative
R epetition and Ellipsis.
FIGUR~TI.VE REPETITION includes epizeuxis where
the word IS immediately repeated without any intervenin"'
w~rd. or clause, as, "The introducers of the now-established
pnnc1ples of political economy may fa1'rly be cons1'dere d to
1ia ve "made a great discovery·, a d iscovery
· .
I more credittie
able, &c.; and epanalepsis, whtre a word or clau . t
"Th
se mervene.s, as,
e ~ersecutions undergone by the .A ostles
~ t0
furmshed both
a tnal to their fa'th
1 , an d a confirmation
.
ours: a trial to them," &c.
The repetition of connectives belongs to ..th'is c1ass, an d is
.
ca11 ed P olysyndeton.' as' "Such a man mio. ht fall a victim
t~ power; but, truth and reason and liberty :ould fall ' th
hJm."
WI

. And the kings of the earth and th .,.
nch men, and the chief-captai~s
d e hbrea~ men, and the
every bond-man and ever f
' an ~ e mighty men, and
dens and in the 'rocks of' thy reeman,. hid themselves in the
e mountarns.
ELLIPSIS is the omission of a word or words wh. h
Id
be supplied in the ordinary form of expre SSlOD;
.
as,IC wou

Hereditary bondmen! know ye not
Who would be free, themselves m~st strike the bl 1
The Ellipsis of connectives is termed
ow.
· ·d·
asyndeton,· as,
V em, v1 1, vici.

species;
1. Those figures which consist in a change of the
nature or relations of the represented object ;
2. Those which consist in comparison or contrast;
and
3. Those which consist in a deviation from the ordinary mode of expressing the mental condition of the
speaker.
·
§ 342. The first class of representative figures includes those of vision, person,i.fication, and hy-

perbole.
is a figure in which .the object although really
remote is represented as present in time or plac:e.
'This figure, which is founded on a represented change in
the relations of the object to time or place, is exceedingly
common; and is found in sty le of all degrees of energy and
vehemence. The following are illustrations:
VISION

He was chosen: his forces were collected with the utmost
diligence: he marched as if towards Cyrrha. But now,
farewell at once to all regard either to the Cyrrheans or the
Locrians ! He seizes Elatea.-Demosthenes on the Crown.
The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to embark
for his native country, is brought before the wicked praetor.
With eyes darting fury, and · a countenance distorted with
cruelty, he orders the helpless victim of his rage to be strip·
ped, and rods to be brought; accusing him, but without the
least shadow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of having
come to Sicily as a spy .-Cicero against Verres.
Advance, then,. y~ future generations. We would hail
you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places
which _we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence,
where we are passing, and soon shall have passed our own

273

OBJECTIVE :PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

human duration. We bid you welcome to this pleasant
land of the Fathers.- Webster.
The figure in this last example is . specifically denomin~­
ted an apostrophe. It is in truth, however, a combination
of vision and apostrophe. § 344.
.
'
PERSONIFICATION is a figure in which inanimate
objects and qualities are represented as livino- beino-s,
This likewise, is, a very . common figur:.
I:deed, as
m~ny w~rds. in every language which were originally applied to mammate objects or mere qualities only figuratively, have, by use, dropped their personifying character and
are regarded as proper terms; so, likewise, phrases and
extended forms of representative imagery have become the
ordinary and proper modes of representation.
It is often conjoined with vision, and especially, with
apostrophe.

God to his creatures, must be taken just as she is. You
may pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape b~r
into a perfect model of severe scrupulous law but she \\ 111
be liberty no 1onger.-Erski11e.
When Natural Religion has thus yiewed both, ask her,
Which is the prophet of God? But her answer we have
already had, when she saw part of this scene, through t_he
eyes of the centurion, who attended at the cross. By him
she spoke, and said: "Truly this man ~·as the Son of God."
-Comparison of the religion of Christ and of ilfalzomd
in Sherlock's Sermons.

1

But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward f1ill.
Sltukspeare.
. "With such delay
' Veil plea~ed, they slack their course, and many a league,
Cheered with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles.
Milton.
·' Ye woods ~nd wilds, ;vhose melancholy gloom
Accords with my soul s sadness, and draws forth
The tear of sorrow from my bursting heart
~ · Farewell awhile.-Home.
'
!"·

. " The peculiar nature of the English language, · which
applies no distinctions of gender to objects destitute of sex,
makes the use of this figure at once easy and forcible.
The simple appl ication of a personal pronoun implying
sex to an inanimate object at once invests it with person·
_ality.
In like manner, liberty herself, the last and best gift ~f

The opposite of this figure, where a person is represented
as a thing, has a similar energy in exposing a character to
scorn and contempt.
How in the name of soldiership and sense,
Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth
And tender as a girl, all essenced o'er
With odors, and as profligate as sweet;
'Vho sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,
And love wh en they should fight: when such as these
Presume to lay their hand upon t_he ark
Of her magnificent and awful <;ause?
HYPERBOLE is a figure in which the object is represented
as magnifi ed or diminished beyond reality.
As vision is found ed on a change in the relations of the
represented object, and personification on a change in its
nature or kind, hyperbole is founded on a change in the
degree of some of its properties or qualities.
I saw their chief, tall as a rock of ice; his spear, the
fir; his shield the rising morn: he sat on the shore, like a
cloud of mist on the hill.--Ossza11.
A )over may bestride the Gossamer,
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall-so light is vanity.-Shakspear~.
He was the owner of a bit of ground not forger than a
Lacedemonian letter.

274

275

ENERGY.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

The minds of the aged are like the tombs to which they
are approaching; where, though the brass and the marble
~emain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the
imagery has mouldered away.

§ 343. The second class of representative figures
being founded on a comparison of one object with another include those of comparison proper and simile,·
rontrast, allegory, and allusion.
This class of figures differs from the first class in this
that while the latter confine the view to the object itself and
only represent it as changed in its relations, nature or
degree, those of the second class go out from the object itself
and represent it only through the light of some other to
which it bears some resemblance.
The COJIIPARISON PROPER is a figure in which the pro. per ties or relations of the object are represented by means of
similar properties or relations in another object of the same
class.
The comparison differs from the metaphor chiefly in being
more extended. It is not essential to the comparison that
the words of comparison, 'like,' 'as,' 'so,' &c., be actually
expressed; although the term "metaphor," or "metaphorical comparison," is more commonly applied when those
words are omitted. The figure is in this case bolder and
makes a stronger demand on the imagination of the reader;
as all the properties of the representative object ure in form
attributed to the other, and the reader is left to distinguish
and select from among them such as may be appropriate.
The use of the comparative particles and words, on the other
hand, indicnte only a partial resemblance. If the poet had
said, "Be not dumb, driven cattle," the expression, if
allowed by the meter, would be felt at once to be stronger

.

..,.._,J

nnd bolder than the comparative form , which he adopts; ,
"Be not like dumb driven cattle."
The sI111ILE differs only in form from the comparison.
The term 'simile' turns the mind on the object to w bi ch
the th eme i.s likened as the prominent thing. In the simile,
accordingly, the represrntati ve object is presented as the
leading theme; and the represented as the subordinate one.
In the comparison, on the other hand, the represented object
is made the leading theme. Thus, a comparison would be
in this form; · "As when the thunder rolls in peals; the lightning glan~es ciii the rocks; spirits ride on beams. of fire; and
the streno-th of the mountain-str eams comes runmng down the
tl
hills: so was the voice of battle." In the simile, the representati vc object would be presented a~ the leading .them~;
as " Thou hast seen the sun retire red and slow behrnd his
cl~ud. night g·atherino- round on the mountain; while the
'
,,
h
.
unfrequeht blast roared in narrow vales. At length t e ram
beats hard; and thunder rolls in peals. Lightning glances
on the rocks, spirits ride on beams of' fire, and the strength
of the mountain-streams comes roaring down the hills. Such
was the noise of btl tie." Differing thus sliglitly, the simile
and comparison are very commonly confounded.
CONTRAST is a figure in 'l'hich the object is represented
by another similar object, but the attention is turned on the
opposition or poinls of difference between them.
Contrast thus involves comparison, since there can be no
contrast between things entirely dissimilar; it differs from
comparison in thi~, that while it assumes the res~~blance .it
o-oes farther and dwells on the points of oppos1trnn or d1so

.

similarity.
The destruction of a dangerous error which had widely
extended its dominion is a glorious vfotory won by .the ·
friends of truth,, armed only . with the· weapons of faith.

276

ODJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

Su~h a conqueror no streams of blood accompany: in hia
tram are no desolated fields.
.
The ALLEGORY is but an extended simile, in which the
comparative words are omitted.
The allegory, the parable, and the fable belong to the
same class of figurutive forms of representation; and their
distinctions are not merely observed in the common use of
language. It is sufficient to remark of them that the fable
is distinguished from the proper allegory by bei~g shorter
and also by being narrative or historical. It is founded on
~n imaginary event; whereas an allegory may be descriptive. The term parable is more strictly confined to allegories either narrative or descriptive, of a moral or religious
character; which are, moreover, founded on real scenes or
events, as those of Christ.
One of the finest examples of the allegory is in the eightieth Psalm, fr?m the eighth verse to the sixteenth inclusive.
The Pilgrim's Progress by Bunyan is another fine exem•
plification of the extended allegory.
The ALLUSION is a species of comparison in which, while
th.e comparative w~rds are omitted, the Pepresented object is
still made the leading theme; and the comparison is with · a
real object or event.

By this last characteristic it is distinguished from the
allegory, in which, as in the simile, the representative object is the leading theme. It differs from one class of metaphors only in being more extended. Indeed, this class of
mctaphc:;rs, referring to a real scene or event, are denominated mefap!torical allusions or allusive metaphors; as
"The self-seeking will betrav his friend or brother with a
1udas-kiss."
•
· When it is said that the allusion always respects a real
event or object, it is not meant to exclude such imaginary

ENERGY.

277

objects or events as have been actually described or narrated
in works of fiction.

§ 344. The third class of representative figures, or
those in which the mental condition of the speaker is
represented as different from the reality, may be distributed into three species, according as they respect
the personality of the speaket; that of the hearer; or
the nature of the thought or feeling represented itself.
The first species is PROSOPOPOEIA, in which the speaker
personates another; as where Milo is introduced by Cicero as
speaking through his lips; "Attend, I pray, hearken, 0
citizens, I have killed Publius Clodius by this sword and by
this right hand, I have kept off his rage from your necks,
which no laws, no courts of judicatme, could restrain," &c.
It is sometimes joined with personificatfon, in which case
inanimate or irrational things are represented as speaking ;
as in Cicero's first oration ag·ainst Cataline, the republic is
made thr speaker and addresses Cicero himself. " What
arc you doing? ·Are you suffering him whom you have
found to be an enemy, who you see is to be at the head of
the war, whom you perceive onr enemies wait for in their
camp as th eir general, "ho has been the contriver of this
wickedness, the chief of th e conspiracy, the exciter of slaves
and profligate citizens, to leave the city which is rather to
bring him in than let him out? Will you not order him to
be imprisoned, condemned, and executed?" &c ..
Sometimes this figure takes the form of a colloquy or a
dialogue. This \YaS the ancient sermocinatio.
How does God reveal himself in nature? She answers
thee with loud voices, with a thousand tongues: God is love.
The second species .is APOSTROPHE, in which the speaker,
instead of addressing directly his proper hearer, turns him·
24_,

:·;

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

self to some other person or thing, either really or onlv in .
imagination present.
•
This figure abo unds in the orations of Cicero. Thus in
his first against Cataline: "I desire, senators, to be merciful,
but not to appear negligent in so great dangers of the State;
though at present I cannot but condemn myself of remissness. There is a camp formed in Italy at the entrance of
Etruria, against the State; our enemies increase daily ; but
we see the commander of th e camp and general of the ene~ies ~v ithin our walls, in the very senate, contriving some
mtestrne ruin to the State. If, now, Cataline, I should
order you to be seized and put to death," &c.
Again, in his defense of Milo, he turns to liis brother
Quintus and addresses him as if present: "And how shall I
answer it to you, my brother Quintus, the partner of my
misfortunes, who art now absent?"
The t~ird species of figures of this class which respect a
change m the represented conception of the object by the
speaker from the reality, includes irony, doubt, and interro-

gation.
IRONY is a figure in ·,which the speaker represents his
thought in a form that properly expresses the directly opposite of his opinion. It is employed mostly for purposes \ f
playfulness or scorn and contempt.
.
·
.

Silence at length the gay Antinous broke.
Constrained a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke: .
W?at god to you, untutored youth, affords
This headlong torrent of amazing words!
May ~ove delay thy reign, and cumber late
So bright a geniu~ with the cares of state!

Odyssey,

I.

279

six islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy
milliollS of money. Oh, invaluable right! for the sake of
which. we have sacrificed our rank among nations, our
importance abroad, and our happiness at home !
DOUBT, also called aporia and dubitatio, is a figure in
which the speaker represents himself as in doubt for the
purpose of winning a stronger confidence from the hearers.
Thus, Cicero in his oration for Cluentius:

I know not which way to turn myself. Shall I deny the
scandal thrown upon him of bribing the judges? Cau I say,
the people were not told of it? &c.
INTERROGATION is a figur e in which a strong and confident assertion is represented under the form of an inquiry
or demand.
H ave any alarms been occasioned by the emancipation
of our Cathol ic brethren? Has the bigoted mali gnity of
any indi vidu;,.ls been crushed? or has the stability of the
government or tha t of the country b een weakened? or is one
million of subj ects stronger than four millions?

§ 345. Those forms of figurative en ergy which depend on the structure of the sentence respect either
the order and connection of the parts; or the completeness and length of the entire sentence.
They include invers,ion and anacoluthon ; aposiopesis and sententiousness.
§ 346. INVERSION is a figure in which the arrangem ent of the parts of a sentence is changed fro~ the
usual syntactical order.

490.

. '~ut, Mr. ?peaker, we have a right to tax America.' Oh,
mestu?able ngh_t ! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right! the
assertion of winch has cost this country thirteen provinces, -

The general principle of energy in regard to the arrangement or the parts of a sentence is, that th e more important
words or phrases be placed first or lust, and the less important be thrown into the middle. This principle, indeed,
applies also to the arrangement of words in tlie members.

280

281

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

\Vords of transition, of every class, as ' however,' 'besides,'
'therefore,' and the like, should in accordance with - this
principle be thrown, whenever practicable, info the middle of
the sentence ;-should be, in other words, postpositive and
not prepositive. So, likewise, merely explanatory members
or phrases should be neither the first° nor tbe last on !he
mind, unless they are to be made emphatic.
But the unbending syntax of our language allows but
little liberty to the orator in this respect. It is here incomparably inferior to the ancient languages which, by the multiplicity of their inflections, admitted readily any desired
arrangement of the words and phrases. It is, howeve\, even
here superior to some other modern languages; and without
offending against its essential principles, the orator may
impart much energy to discourse by authorized deviations
from the ordinary structure of the sentence.
As the subject is naturally the first thing to be presented
to the mind, our language requires that ordinarily it be
placed first in the sentence. But sometimes it is the predicate in whole or in part, or the mode of the copula, upon
which the orator wishes the attention more particularly to
be fixed. To acc~mplish this inversion, in the first place,
we have certain words and forms of expression which are
used for this purpose alone and are in themselves utterly
destitute of meaning; sm;h as," there,"" there is," "it is."

behalf of that government with which !t b~s please~ God,
who appointed to all men the bounds of their hab1tat10n, to
bless that portion of the globe that we occupy.

Them is a feeling of the sublime in contemplatincr the
shock of armies, just as there is in contemplating the
devouring energy of a tempest; and this so elevates and
engrosses the whole man, that his eye is blind to the tears of
bereaved parents, and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan of
the dying, and the shriek of their desolated families. Th ere .
'is a gracefulness in the picture of a youthful warrior burn.ing for distinction on the field, &c.
·
' It gi\·es me pleasure to advance a farther testimony f n

It is the gospel of Jes us Christ, wh~ch has pour~d the
light of day into all the intricacies of this contemplation.
Again, when the predicate is separated in, part or in whole
from the copula the predicate or a part of it may be placed
first.
Great is Diana of the Ephesians.
His faithfu l dorrs howl on his hills, and his boars which
he used to pursue: rejo.ice. .Fallen is the arm of battle; the
mightv amonrr the valiants is low I

.

"

Farther, the qualifying parts of a sentence, when they are
to be made emphatic, may be placed first without violating
the principles of the language.
So deeply were they impressed >vith the ~ense of their
wrongs, that they would not even accept of hfe from their
oppressors.
Once more, in the objective relation of the sentence, our
lancruacre ordinarily requires that the object follow its verb.
" sake of energy, however, inversion is often allowFor" the
able here.
All that I have and all that I am and all that I hope in
this life, 1 am now ready here to stake upon it.
§ 347. ANACOLUTHON is a figure in which , for the
sake of energy, the orator drops the grammatical form
with which he had commenced and adopts another
not syntactically reconcilable with it.
This figure, common in the classical writin.gs, is rarely
allowabl e in our language. Only strong passion can warrant it, as it seems to i:mply such a degree of emotion in the
speaker as t_o ,destroy the recollection of grammatical forms.
24~

282

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ENERGY.

' § 348. APOSIOPESis is a figure in which the feel.:

apply to the use of figures and which should be carefully observed.
.
The first respects the occasion of using them ; 1t requires that they never be introduced unless there be fit
and suitable ground for them in the feelings of the
speaker.

i~gs of the speaker induce him to interrupt the expression and leave the sentence incomplete. ·
This tigure, by its direct address to the imagination of
the hearer, is often one of great power.
Demosthenes employs it frequently with much effect; as
in his address to Aeschines: 0 thou-by what name can I
properly call thee?
l\lust I remember? why she would hano- on him
As if increase of appetite had o-rown b
By what it fed on; yet, witbig a monthLet me not think-Frailty thy name is woman.

§ 349. SENTENTIOUSNESS is a deviation from that
continuousness in style which thought naturally requires, § 295. It characterises that discourrn which is
broken up into short and abrupt sentences.
The wom en, in 1heir turn, learned to be more vain more
gay, and more alluring. They grew studious to plea~e and
t? conquer. . They lost somewhat of the intrepidity and
firmness which bef?re were characteristic of them. They
were to affect .a delicacy and a weakness. Their education
was to be an object of greater attention and care.· A finer
sense of duty was to arise.
After all, what is high birth? Does it bestow a nature
different from that of the rest of mankind? Has · not the
man of ancient line, human blood in his veins? Does he
not experience hunger and thirst? .
Besides, Sir, we have no. election. If we were base
enough to desi re it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. T~1ere is no retreat but in submission and slavery.
Our ch.ams are forged. Their clanking may be heard on
the plarns of Boston. The war is inevitable, and let it come.
I repeat it, Sir, let it come.

§ 350. There arc certain general principles which

~283

So far as figures appear to be sought after, they indicate
labor and affectation which arc in themselves most hostile
to energy. The proper rule to be observed in re.f~re~ce to
pro1Jriety in the use of figures, is that, while. fam1hanty be
obtained by previous study with the various krnds of figures,
such only be actually employed in discourse as spring up
naturally at the time.

§ 351. The second principle respects the number
of fio-ures · it forbids a too frequent repetition of them,
t:>
'
and, ~specially, the frequent repetition of the same
figure.
§ 352. The third principle rcspec~s the relat!on to
be observed to the ordinary essential properties of
style; it requires that figurative expressions should be
in conformity with the necessary principles that govern
those properties.
Firrurcs are deviations from the ordinary forms of speech,
but c:n never be properly violations of its essential properties. In the use of figures, accordingly, the principles of
etnno]ocry syntax and lexicography, for example, should
J
"
,
•
b
never be violated. No real energy is gained to discourse Y
the introduction of a figure which is unintelligible or obscure.

§ 353. The fourth principle respects the quality of
the figure itself; it requires that it be ever .congruous
and complete in itself; and at the same time be e:x:-

'.284

ELEGANCE.

OBJEGTIVE · PROPERTIES.

tended no farther than is necessary for distinct apprehension.
.
.
The liability to an offense against this principle is greatest in the case of the representative figures. Whenever these
are presented confusedly and with incongruous features they
offend rather than impress. So, also, while offensive
abruptness and incompleteness are to be avoided, the figure
should never be extended farther than the imagination of the
hearer needs in order to grasp it intelligibly and fully. In
the simile or comparison, for instance, to carry out the
figure into every possible resemblance weakens as well as
disgusts, and is fatal to energy.
The following extracts exemplify violations of this
principle:
I am convinced that the method of teaching which
?pproaches most nearly _to the method of investigation, is
rncomparably the best, smce not content with serving up a
few barren and lifeless trnths, it leads to the stalk on which
they grow.-Burke.
There is not a single view of human nature which is. not
sufficient to extinguish the seeds of pride.-Addison.
M.en mu~t !lcqu~re a very peculiar and strong habit of
turnmg their eye mwards, m order to explore the interior
regions and rcc.csses of the m~nd, the hollow caYerns of deep
thought, the pnrnte seats of fancy, and the wastes and wil·
dernesses, as well as the more fruitful and cultirnted tracts
of this obscure climate.-Shaftsbi1ry.
'
~hese are the first-fruits _of my unfledged eloquence, of
which thou bast oft complamcd that it was buried in the
shade.
Upon thy mirror, earth's miijestic view,
To paint thy presence, and to frel it too.
\.

285

CHAPTER IV.
OF ELEGANCE.

§ 354. ELEGANCE is that property of style by virtue of which the discourse is commended to the taste

of the hearer.
§ 355. The elements of elegance in style are propriety; expression of right sentiment ; and grace.
This analysis of elegance is founded on that of the constituents of aesthetic beauty. (Introduction, chap. Ill. § 21.)
The first element of taste, if it be not rather an indispensable condition, is propriety or fitness. We require, f~r
instance as essential to all beauty that there be fitness in
respect ; 0 the end or design in r.eference to _whirh th~ work
of art is constructed. The perception of tins fitness g1vts us
pleasure of itself with no further element of beaut~. Th~s
the adaptation of the various parts of a steam eng1n: ~o its
designed end-the production of m_otion; of. the d1ilerent
members of the animal body to their respective uses, and
of all of them together to the final end of the animal .economy; of a chain of reasoning or a series of com~hcated
arguments to the proof of a proposition, gives us a higher or
lower decrree of aesthetic pleasure.
We a;e likewise pleased with the expression of a correct
.
t We admire the exhibition of devoted friendship
sen timen.
and attachment in the episode of Nisus and Euryalus in the
JEneid; of generous and lofty patriotism in the well-known
adjuration and other parts of the oration of Demosthenes ou
tl.e crown.
We are touched, also, by the exhibition of grace in the

'286

OBJECTIVE~ PROPERTIES.

constructions of art, evincing a masterly skill and power in
the artist.
Into these elements may be resolved all the constituents
of beauty in sty le.

§ 356. PROPRIETY in style requires
1. A just expression of all the various properties of
style that have been before enumerated, and a sym·
metry and congruity as respects the parts of a dis·
course;
2. An adaptation of the verbal expression to the
character of the theme as sacred, important serious
.
l
'
or otherwise ; and
3. The observance of a due decorum as determined
by the character of the speaker, of the h earers, and
of the occasion and circumstances of speaking.'·
Au element of style so extended although so indispen·
sable and so difficult of attainment, its very nature forbids
the attempt to describe or exemplify more fully. It is one
which, as Cicero remarks, it is impossible to communicate
by art."' One or two ge neral observatio.ns are all that it is
·
deemed usef~l to add on this subject.
The first is, that a strict regard to propriety is absolutely
indispensable to success in oratory, so far as success depeuds
on the hearer's taste. And his gratification here may have
a determining power over his attention, bis perception and
judgment. Indeed , Cicero does not hesitate to say that pro.
priety is the essential element of oratorical power. "Is erit
cloquens, qui ad id quodcumque dccebit, poterit accornmodarc orationem."
• Ca put esse artis, dcccre; quo<l tamcn unam id essc, quod tradi
arte non possit.-De Ornt. I. 2'.J.

ELEGANCE.

287

The natnre of oratorical propriety, furth er, may perhaps
best be understood from the observation that it is merely the
gi vincr to discourse what belongs to it. The demanrls of
propriety arc fully met when what belongs to the nature of
sty le as the expression of thought, to the nature of the subject, the character of the speaker and the hearer, the oc~asion
and circumstances of speaking, is correctly observed rn the
discourse.

§ 357. The EXPRESSION OF RIGHT SENTIMENT
as an element of beauty in style, involves the use of
such representative imagery in the exhibition of thought
as is founded on high and pure associations.
This is a positive clement of_beauty, and is of a higher
order than the first named-propriety. It is by this element
that oratory more closely links itself to the peculiar beauty
Of ideal art which lies in the representation of sentiment.
It is, indeed, only indirectly and incidentally that sentiment
can be expressed in oratorical style; while in art it may co'.1stitute the final end of the work. Still sentiment appears Ill
stv l~. It gives to sty le a peen liar color and hue. \:Vhen
discourse proceeds from a mind imbued with elevated sentiments and familiarized with pure and noble associations,
style, as the body of the thought, puts on a peculiar freshness and beauty which commends it to every refined taste.
The character thus reveals itself in sty le. It was on good
<>rounds that the ancients urged so earnestly the importance
~f character to success in oratory; for, as Quintilian reasons,
" discourse reveals character and discloses the secret disposition and temper; and· not without reason did the Greeks
teach that as a man lived so he would speak."-" Profert
enim mores plerumque oratio, et animi secreta detegit. Nee

-288

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

ELEGANCE.

sine causa Graeci p ro d"d
t t v1vat,
·
1 erun , u
quemque etiam
dicere."

~ 358. GRACE is tha t element of beauty whieh
sprmgs from ease of execution implying not only a
thorough knowl edge of the principles of style but also
power and skill in the actual expression.
Grace ultim a tely is founded on motion or power m
sens'.ble operation, § 21.
By an easy analogy it is
applied to moral and abstract exp ressions of power, as well
as, also, to forms which are motionless but yet SU<"o-est pre.
.
bb
v1ous exert10n of power in determining them. We speak
thus of the grace of a statue which represents the easy attitude of perfect vigor and suppleness of limb.
Grace app ears in style in the easy flow of diction which
attends power of expression. Abruptness and sententiousness
in sty le imply, ind eed, power. So far as abrupt and broken
however, discourse implies a broken or imp eded energy~
The roar and foam of a mountain torrent dashing aga inst
rocks and trees display force; it is forc e howev er checked
im~ed~d ~nd out-mastered. The easy ' gentle fl~w of th~
ma;estic river, that quietly takes into its current and bears
along without rippl e every obsta~le that comes in its way,
is a _more perfect emblem of unimpeded power, and in its ·
motion. :rn see grace exemplified. Mere impulsive, j etting
oratory is so far deficient in grace, as it implies impeded
and resisted po wer;

a

§ 359. In the acquisition of this property of style,
elegance or beauty, three means are essential;
First, mental culture;

Se.condly, st~1dy of art, including both its principles
and its exemplifications in models· and
.
'
Thirdly, exercise with judicious criticisms.

289

~ 360. J.11.ental culture is essentia l both for the purpose of acquiring those moral habits and associations
which are necessary for the expression of righ t sentiment; as well as also for the attainment of that power
which is the foundation an<l sou!'ce of grace.

§ 361. The study of art is directly beneficial in
creating that sense of propriety which is the condition
of all beauty; as well as also in forming the sentiments and developing power of expression .
Every species of art may be turned to useful account in
the formation of oratorical taste. While in no one are all
the forms of beauty perfectly rev ealed, there is non e, perhaps, which is not distinguished above every oth er in its
ad11ptedness to develop some one or another particnlar element of beauty.
The term 'art' is here empl oyed in its most comprcll ensil"e
import; and is intend ed to ineludc every exertion of pow er
under the control of taste. Natu re itself in this view is but
the workmanship of a most perfect artist, and is hence a
most appropriate model for the study of oratory in all its various forms of skill and beauty. Man ners and morals, also,
lie within th e domain of art; and for many reasons dem and
the close and constant study of tlie orator, not for the mere
information of the undersfandiug only, hut as furni shing th e
means of developing and forming the taste.

§ 362. Exercise in oratory of itself develops an<l
strengthens power of execution; and, combined with
judicious criticism, aids in the cultivation of all the
elements of oratorical taste.

In applying criticism to oratorical compositions, the
caution given in § 18 in regard to the tim e of criticism
25

290

OBJECTIVE PltOPERTIES.

needs carefully to be observed; as nothing more fatally chills
and enervates inventive am! expressive power than the indulgence of an undue critical spirit at the time of composing
or speaking.
By the use of these general means the mind is to be
trained and developed to the power of expressing all its
thoughts in taste or elegance. Such an indirect culture is
to be preferred to any immediate endeavor, at the time of
composing, to communicate to style this property. In the
words of Dr. Whately, "the safest rule is, ne ver, during
the act of composition, to study elegance, or think about it
at all. Let an author study the best models,-mark their
beauties of style and dwell upon them, that he may insensibly catch the habit of expressing himself IVith elegance;
and when he has completed any composition, he may revise
it, and cautiously alter any passage that is awkward and
harsh, as well as those that are feeble and obscure; but let
him never, while writing, think of any beauties of style;
but content himself with such as may come spontaneously."
"?- :- ... • , ..... ~

'-··
. :/

• ._.z ~- •

,, .
- ; """~

.

.... ~·

\

\',
I

:,"'

APPENDIX.
THEMES FOR EXERCISES IN INVENTION.

THEME S JN NARRATIVE DISCOURSE.

1. Simple Narration.
The crusades.
The dis covery of America.
The conquest of England by the Normans.
~Magna Charla.
.
.
.
The early population of the earth by successive .m1grat10n.
Th e dismemberment of Poland .
The expulsion of K ings from Rome.
The exodus of the Israelites from Egypt.
The origin of the Grecian game.
The P ersian invasions of Greece.
The rise of tragedy.
The plebeian triumph in Rome.
.
. ·
The origin and spread of British conquests Ill India.
The American Revolution.
The battle of Waterloo.
The conquests of Alexander the Great.
The history or'Republics}n South America.

292

APPENDIX.

The Peloponnesian \Var.
The history of modern commerce.
The destruction of Carthage.
Gothic conquests in Italy.
The subjection of Greece by the Romans.
The history of J erusalem.
The French revolution in 1830.
The first Triumvirate in Rome,
The revival of legal studies.
The Quadruple Alliance of 1814.
The battle of Lexi ng ton.
The Swiss Confederacy.
The rise of Monachism.
The division of the Roman empire.
The rise of the Turks.
The Saxon descen<lents in England.
The expulsion of the Moors from Spain.
The introduction of Christianity into England; the German tribes; China; the South Sea Islands,
The Danish inrnsions of England.
The rise of the Feudal System.
The Sicilian Vespers.
The Hanseatic League.
The Lutheran R eformation.
The war of the Roses in England.
The Spanish Inquisition.
The Slave Trad e.
The imprisonment and execution of Mary Stuart.
The settlement of New England.
The English Commonwealth.
The rise of Moharnmedaniarn.
The ministry of the cider Pitt.

TH E MES.

293

The independence of Modern Greece.
The American Constitution.
The battle of the Nile.
The Union of Great Britain and Ireland.
The R eformation in England.
The rise of Chivalry.
The lives of Pericles, Solon, D emosthenes, Alexander the
Great, Xenophon, Themistocles, Cato, Cmsar, Hannibal,
Scipio, Cicero, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Alfred the Great,
Belisarius, Tycho Brahe, the Earl of Chatham, Hampden,
Michael Angelo, Columbus, Washington, La Fayette, Louis
XIV., Cowper, Edmund Burke, Howard, Joan of Arc,
Benjamin Franklin, John Milton, Martin Luther, Sir Humphrey D avy, Lord Byron, Galileo, Charles V., Frederick
the Great, Burns, Addison, Fox, Alexander Hamilton,
Ignatius Loyola, Francis Xavier, John Jay.

2. Abstrnct Narration.
The progress of civilization in the world.
The rise of popery.
The diffusion of knowledge.
The spread of Christianity.
The rise of free cities.
The development of taste.
The growth of genius.
The progress of fr ee principles.
The decline of the poetical spirit.
The lapse of virtuous principle when deprived of its usual
support.
The transition of superstition to infidelity.

3. Narration with Pxhibition of causal relation.
The influence of the Reformation on the intellect of
Europe.

25-1<

294

APPENDrx. --.

.
:./~~. ~
The probable influence of the P'~ited States on -the destinies of the world.
The influence of the spirit of the present age on the des·
tiny of the world.
The influence of the press.
The influence of the American Revolution.
The inf! uenre of the national spirit on security.
The public games of Greece.
The influence of the Reformation on civil liberty.
The causes of the melancholy of genius,
The influence of periods of great excitement on literature.
The influence of the Feudal system.
The influence of the Crusades.
The influence of chivalry.
The influence of commerce.
The influence of climate on national character.
The study of History as a means of intellectual growth.
The influence of seclusion in cultivating the mind and
heart.
The influence of christian missions on the literature of the
age.
The indulgence, of a spirit of censure.
Singleness of purpose in its bearing on success.
Imitation as leading to servility.
THEMES IN DESCRIPTION.

1. b escription proper.
The Geographical Features of Switzerland, Italy, Tartary,
Great Britain, Greece, The United States, D enmark, Egypt,
Iceland.
Ancient and modern Athens, Rome,_ Thebes, Babylon,
Paris, London, St. Petersburg, Edinburgh, VVasbington.

I

The vale of Chamouni, Mont Blanc, The vaie of Tei:npe,
Lago Maggiore in Italy, The Scottisl~ Highlands ; The Falls
of Niagara, of Terni; Mount Vesuvius, Hecla.
The Parthenon of Athens, St. Peter's church at Rome,
St. Paul's of London, King's Chapel Cambridge, Strasburgh
Cathedral.
The cedar of L ebanon.
Autt1mn.
The planetary system.

2. Abstract Description.
The German Confederation.
The Hanseatic L eague.
The English Constitution.
.
The Constitution of the United States of America.
The Swiss Confederacy.
T-he British Parliament.
Republican Rome.
Roman Patriotism.
The character of Napoleon Bonaparte, Washington,
Oliver Cromwell, La Fay ette, Lord Byron, Cowp~r, John
Jay, Socrates, Cicero, P ompey, Lord Bacon, _S ir Isaac
Newton.
Character of the American Indians.
The man of independent thought.
The true statesman.
The enthusiasm of genius.
Moral courage.
Character of the Modern Greeks.
The man of impulse.
The charncter of a Philosophical Historian.
The literary character of the Scriptures.
The writincrs·
of Sir Walter Scott.
0

296

THEMES.

APPENDIX.

The Lake poets.
Cheerfulness.
The beauty of a forgiving spirit. .
True Greatness.
Genius.
Genuine politeness.
Independence of character.
The pleasure derived from the contemplation of the past,
THEMES IN ANAL YSJS,

The benefits of a refined taste.
The excellence of ingenuousness.
The evils of Party Spirit.
The benefits of Party Spirit.
Impediments to high literary excellence in the United
Slates.
The benefits of foreign travel.
The uses of the study of History.
The benefits of national adversity.
'i'he uses of knowledge.
The motives ·,af the present _day to aim at high mental
superiority.
'
The obligations of a country to her literarv men.
Decision of character.
' I .
The means of perpetuating the blessings of a free government.
The political prospects of Europe.
The eccentricities of genius.
Liabilities of the student at the present day.
The benefits resulting from a high culture of the social
affections.
·
The social tendencies in the United States.

297

Abuses of the imagination.
Duties resulting from the right of suffrage.
Uses of biography.
Uses of history.
The duties of the American Scholar.
Constituents of real greatness.
Benefits of the fine arts.
The duties of literary men to their conn try·
Instruction to be derived from the history of our revol ution.
Moral defects of English Poetry.
d vantacres arisin<r from a love of literatu re in early life.
A
" the spirit
" of honor in this country.
Abuses of
THEMES IN EXElllPLlFlCATJON.

The power of habit.
The corrupting e!Tec.ts of slavery.
The order of nature.
The power of conscience.
The love of system.
Nothing beneath the care of Providence.
The power of resolution.
The pow er of association.
The ingratitude of R epublics.
Practical character of the age.
Undue influence of foreign opinion in this country,
THEME S IN COMPARISON AND CONTRAST.

The influence of the study of nature and of art on char-.
acter.
The comparative effects of climate and descent on na,-.
tional character.

298

APPENDIX.

The influence of agriculture, commerce, and manufao.
tures on national character,
Principles, not men.
A Government of law.
Reward and punishment as incentives to exertion.
Acting from principle, rather than from impulse.
Comparative dignity of the warrior and statesman.
Literature as affected by different forms of government,
R eading and observation in the study of human nature.
The comparative virtue of the enlightened and ignorant
classes.
The influence of architecture, painting, poetry, and mu·
sic in providing and perpetuating religious impressions.
The influence of the ancient and modern languages in
the culture of the taste.
"
The letters of Lady Montague, Horace Walpole, and
Cowper.
The Mythologies of Greece· and R ome.
The military character of Napoleon and Wellington.
Personal memoirs and formal histories as illustrative of
national history and character.
The power of conscience and human law.
The comparative effects of literature and science on civilizatio n.
I
The influence of moral and physical causes on character.
Skepticism and love of truth as indication~ of' mental
vigor.
Hume and Lingard as Historians.
The poet of an ea.rly and of a civilized age.
Imitation and mimicry.
Domestic Life among the ancient Greeks and Romans,
and in this country,

THEMES.

299

Ages Of a ction and reflection.
T · ' n different
The different styles of eloquence prevai mg i
ages and countries.
Modern and ancient Greece.
Policy and principle.
'!'HEM ES JN CONF TRMA'l'ION•

Commerce favorable to national character.
Civilization progressive•
International copy right.
.
The necessity of maintaining national credit. 1
Dramatic Entertainments hurtful to sound mora s.
Universal Suffrage.
. .. .
Civilization dependent on chnstiamty.
Novel Reading.
E~ man the architect of his own fortune.
ry
credit
. .'
irit in this
The dependence of commerce on
'rhe desirableness of cherishing a military sp
country.
f .soc1'ety to control individual pur·
The unlimited right o
suits.
f
the sacrifice of pri. ht of ,,O'overnment to en orce .
TIie ng
vate interest to public good.
.
The equal distribution of happiness.
Th ·
·<ls of virtue sure.
. h
e rewa'.ff .
f knowledO'e advantageous to the big er
0
.
.
General d1 · us10n °
classes of literature.
.
·
The necessity of relaxation.
No man without influence. . .
Men responsible for their op1n1ons. ' ~ :- ....... , ..
The progress of right opini~ns slow. ,.
Utility of national cel~brations.

300

.THEMES. -

APPENDIX;

National monuments.
Influence 'of a free press on Government.
Conversation as a means of intellectual improvement.
The i~fluence of the discovery of America on the intel-

Precariousness of popular favor. ·
The original unity of the human race.
The desirableness of short terms of political office.
The ex!Jediency of making authorship a profession,
Th: ~atur~l proof of the soul's immortality.
Ongrnal diversity of talents in man.

lect of Europe.
Influence of constitution on literary pursuits.
Tendency to extremes at the present day.

THEMES IN EXCITATION.

The death of Socrates.
The reign of terror in France.
Gen, W ash~ngton resigning his sword to Congress.
,_ _ . _
The plague m London.
The extinction of the Indians,
The Slave trade.
The field of battle,
THEMES IN PERSUASION,

Tl.1e ~ove of truth as a practical principle;
Aimrng at perfection in every thing.
· Culture of the taste.
Education of .!he senses.
Firmness in duty.·
Contentment with the allotments of Providence.
Fortitude under reverses.
.
.·
\
Habits of industry.
The love of nature.
Thoroughness in intellectual attainments.
MH:CELLANEOUS THEMES.

Love of retirern ent.
Study of the Mathematics.
Tendency of nn excessive veneration of antiquity.".': .. i '

301

i•
I

Early impressions.
Knowledge is power.
The choice of friends.
Persecutions for opinion.
Influence of mental culture on moral feeling.
Providential evils, real blessings.
The limits to intellectual acquisitions.
Influence of literatur~ on national refinement.
The value of an unspotted reputation:·
A superficial attention t:o a great variety of pursuits.
The true character revealed in the conduct.
Influences of circt1mstances on.character. ·
Self government.
The union of discipline with native genius.
Indulgence of a spirit of censure. ·
The power of custom.
The influence of associates on character.
The abuse of free discussion.
The effects of irregularity in rank and condition in a
republic.
The influence of great emergencies oil the formation of
character.
Delicacy of feeling.
Conflict of opinion.
. Sanguine temperament.

26

I'

APPENDIJF. -

Influence of promiscuous reading. - ·Public education.
_Prevailing deference to piiblic opinion. __ ·
·'Anonymous literature. · · - .
'

:.,

·.•t

303

· irHEMES.

Power of truth and the certainty of its final triumph.
Influence of the study of poetry on the intellectual and
,:.

National recollections.
Eagerness for politics in this_country.
Activity as the 'g reat source ·of' happiness. "')
The authority of great names.
'
The dread of singularit~. .
,,
Models in literature.
Inordinate love of wealth as a peculiar weakness in
American character.
The mental discipline required in this country.
Virtue the true guide to lasting favor;
Visionary anticipations of the future.
Influence of free institutions on the habits of social life.
L<ive of excitement.
The character of the early settlers of a country;
Influence of literature on the stability of government.
The evils of sudden revolutions in government.
·Self educated._in en. ·.'.-., :t •• •. ,-, ,. : ·.. : "

Neglect ~ literature by professional men. - :
The desire of esteem.
-. ..
High aims and expectations.
Self-confidonce.
.
~' "':c: -" Early trials in life.
'
\
~.
Free intercourse with the world in early life.
· '· The influence of great ll'!-tional wealth on morals. • '
·
. ,•
Use of ridicule.
Intellectual Independence.
Genius has its weaknesses.
Sacrifice for principle.

·.\

•

'Al

•

moral character.
Knowledge of human nature.
Influence of periodical literature.
Errors of Genius without moral principle.
The power of local assoriation,
Integrity in politics.
National benefactors.
Carryincr early warmth of feeling into life.
Tenden;,y of great scenes and objeds to elevate the char•
· acter;
·
· t'ion as a means of enJ ~dicions culture of t_h e imi;igma
joyment and usefulness.
Habits of reverie. - ' Security of free institutions.
'· Erroneous estimates of greatness.
·
.
Influence of strained and excessive feeling on literature.
Literary courage. ·
Progress of our country in national improvement.
Power of opinion in a free government
Accomplishments.
·•
D estinv of the English Language.
Indepe.ndence of Genius.
"
· Memorials of great nctions.
,_, • ,_. _, ""~' ,,.
~
Influence of a spirit of distrust.
· · .·.· .~-} :_:.-,~-~.(~"-5';.
Influence of Christianity l)n the sp~rit of ,p?,e~tt· :~-~t~:~~~2~:~·
Generosity of sentiment.
·
· .~ '·-~~
~:~:•
'
~ ' J ... "
Ambition as a motive to literary exertion.
,;..-··{$~ ":".'io:
l\K'l't
tness as an obiect
of admiration. : ..,,.. :.-•,
.,;.-· ,
1u i 1 ary grea
,
. ·*:,c.i
· • ....
Abuses of free discussion at the present day.
•• ;-:, :.-~-["\~·- i ,
. Cherishing high sense of national character.

·.:·1

I

~

,,....

.

~

