THE

ART OF -D ISCOURSE:
A SYSTEM OF RHETORIC
ADAPTED FOR USE IN COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES,
AND ALSO FOR PRIVATE STUDY.

"
·ny

AUTHOR

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HENRY N_i'DAY,
LOGIO j GR.AMMATIOJ.L S YNTUESIS, on. AltT O.fl' ENGLIB!!_ _OOMPOSITION;
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"True ease in writing comes from art, not cbn.nce."-Pope.
"I hope ultimately to advance so :f\J.r that art shaU become a second nature,
as polished manners are to well-bred men ; tlicn Irua-gination shall regain h er
former freedom, and submit to none but voluntary limitations." - &hiJJer.

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NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER AND COMPANY.
1867.

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PREFACE.

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THE present work is a reconstruction of the author's
" Elements of the Art of Rhetoric," first published in
1850. The distinctive peculiarities of that work were
the elevation of Invention, or the supply of the th ought,
to the first and commanding rank in rhetorical in struction; the reduction of the principles of llli eto ric to
more exact system and meth od , both iu respect of its
internal properties -und also of i ls rebtions to kindred
arts and sciences; and the stricter treatment of llltctoric
as an art rather than as a scien ce. The work has been
received with great favor in all parts of the country ;
but both in its outward dress and also in its contents it
invited some attempts at improvement. The principal
changes in the text will be found in the more definite
indications of the relations qf Rhetoric to Logic and
JEsthetics, and the fuller and clearer application of
logical and msthetic principles to the construction of
discourse ; the fuller and more definite development
of the nature and processes of Explanation, or the unfolding of thought; and the more exact classifi cation
of the properties of Style. A leading aim in the reconstructimi has been to exhibit the grounds of all the
principles of the art in the nature of thought and of
language, so as to enable the learner to discern tho
logical accuracy and completeness of its di visions, its

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PREFACE.

iv

v

PREFACE.

processes, aucl its properties ; as · the design has been
not merely to present a collection of doctrines and
observations for acquisition as bare knowledge, but to
make practical thinkers and writers - to put students
of discourse oii a course of training which if faithfully
pursued shall 'secure to them a perpetual growth in
power as thinkers and also as speakers and writers.
An indispensable condition of such continuous growth
is an intelligent apprehension of the essential nature a·nd
laws of each uf tl1e diven;e pruce:i::>e:i in which thought
may Le prc:;c11tcJ to ull1cr minds. A moment's reflection will sati:;ty a11y cauJiJ rniuJ that tlic expectation
of reaching any high degree of skill in the constructiou of Ji:;cour:;c, whether written or extempore,
without separate study and practice in each of these
general proces::>es, is just as preposterous as the expectation of attaining mathematical skill by general
practice in computing, without specific study of the
elemental principles of quantity, and practice in the
fundamental rules of computation. As the only common-sense method of acquiring arithmetical skill is
by the study of the ground-rules of arithmetic, one by
one .and successively, -addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, of rc<J.uction of fractions, evolution and
involution, proportion, - not by general exercises in
computation involving any or all these processes in combination, so the only rational method of acquiring skill
in writing and speaking is by the separate study of
each process of prese nting thought.
Having . well
grounded himself thus in these proc~sses, the student
of discourse may go on ever perfecting his skill in the
handli11g of thought, in the shaping of it for the various
objects of his discourse, and in tl1e ultimate embodi-

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ment of it in fit and effective verbal -expression. Proceeding in this way, the training in discourse - in
writing compositions -instead of a repulsive drudgery,
to be shirked in every way possible, becomes an attractive as it will be felt to be a rational procedure, and of
eminent utility.
Exercises have been subjoined to the several departments of Invention and Style, as fully as seemed
desirable. They will be found sufficient for private
study. In classes under perman ent instructors the
sekdions of exerci:;es mus t llecessal'ily be left to a
great- extent with the instructor.
In tl1c: autl1or's
" lU1uturical Praxis " may be fournl two tlwusirnJ or
rnure themes, with ru<limental exercises in all rhetorical
processes. His "Art of Coin position " cuulaius the
principles of proper sentence-constructio n, presented
in progressive method, including an introduction to the
use of imagery or rhetorical symbols and to the elementary processes in the unfoldin g of thought, and
accompanied throughout with c9piuus exercises.
NEW HAVEN, Janua,.y, 1867.

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CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I.

§ 1. Definition of Rhetoric
CHAPTER IL
OF TTTE rnOVJNCE AND RELATIO.X S OF HHF.Tl'HTC.

§ 2. Founded on the Faculty of Disco111»c
§§ 3 ·9. Relations to Log ic, ;Esthcli cs, Ethics, Gramma r, and Eloc uti nn

r.

CHAPTER III.
OF THE UTILITY OF RHETORIC.

lG

§§ 10, 11. Fact and Degree
§§ 12-19. Means

10

CHAPTER IV.
OF' DlSCOUH SE A N O IT S KIND S.

§§ 20-22. Oratory
§§ 23- 31. Derived Species. - Epi stol ary Composition, Poetry , n cprcI

I

scnt::itive lJi scourse

§§ 32-34. Forms of Oratory. -Judicial, DelibcratiYe, Sacred

·'.f:1

CHAPTER V.
OF THE DEPAHTl\lENTS OF RHETORIC .

§ 35. Invention, Style .

2G

28
3G

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CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

Vlll

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PAGE

§ 77. Law of Unity .
§ 78. Law of Selection •
§ 79 . Law of l\Iethod

FIRST GENERAL DIVISION - INVENTION.
GENERAL VIEW.
.I

CHAPTER I.

72

i4

42

01<' DRSCRTl"l'ION.

42
CHAPTER II.
OF A DISCOUH SE.

§§ 41-46. Principles of Selection
§ 47. llforn l End of Discourse
§ 48. Obj ects of Discourse
§ 49 . Processes
§§ 50-52. Unity
§ 53. Departments oflnvention

§ 81. Nature
§ 82. Th eme

78
i!J

§§ 83-8G. Laws.
Exercises in Description

81

45
48
48

7~

CIIAPTl<: R IV.
OF DIV IS ION .

49

49

83

§ 87. Nnture .
§ SS . Theme
§§ 89- D2. Laws

51

CHAPTER III.

s:J
S·I
S!l

Exercises in Division

OF THE PARTS OF A DISCOURSE.

§§ 54--59. E ssential Parts - Proposition and Discussion
§§ G0-65.· Subsidiary Parts - Introduction and P eroration .

77
CHAPTER III.

P AGE

1'111~1\11~

76
77

§ 80. Law of Completeness
Exercises in Narration

OF_,TJIE NATUHE A N U PAitTS Ol<' INVE NTION .

§ 30. Dcflnltion .
§§ 37-40. Parts

OF THE GENF.HAL

,~ ,,

C HAPTER V.

52
53

OF PAfiTITION.

§ 93. Nature
§ 94. Th eme.

91
92
92
96

§§ 95-98 . • Laws .
Exercises in Partition .

PART !. - EXPLANATION.
CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER VI.

GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

OF EXEl\lPLIFICATION.

§§ 66-68. Nature of Explanation
§ 69. Theme .
§ 70. Laws - 1. of Unity; 2. of Selection; 3. of Method ; 4. of Completeness
§ 71. Clearness aPd Distinctness .
§ 72. Defin ition.
§§ 73, 74. Processes - Narration, Description, Division, Part ition,
Exemplifi cation , Comparison and Contrast

57
58
60
02
02

GG

CHAPTER IL
OF NARRATION .

§ 75 . Nature
§ 76. Th0mc .

IX

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7:2

§ 99. Nature

GS

§ 100. Theme

DD

100
103

§§ 101-104. Laws
Exercises in Exemplification

CHAPTER VII.
01"

CO;\IPAHIS O ~

AND CONTR AST.

§§ 105, lOG. Nature .
§ 107. K inds -Simpl e, Analog ical
§ 108. Th eme .
§§ lOD-112. Laws .
Exercises in Comparison and Contras t

JO .(

JOr.
107
107

100

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CONTENTS.

CO:ITE:\ TS.

CHAPTER VI.

C ll Al'TET! VIII.
OF TJT P.. JX'l' l!OnU\T f O X

. \)if)

J'E l:ulL\ Tf l) N

'

CJF PRESU~1PT1 0 X j O R , THF. BUHD E X OF PROOF'.

I:"\ EXPI. 1\ ~ ,\J ' Ol! Y nu:. f'(l l· 1:S E.

PAG&

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§§ 11 ~, 11 -1. 1'11trod 11 vtio n - Exp lnn" t" ry, Conci lint o ry
§§ 11 [1 , J lfi. 1 'l · roral i•m- Fv rrn ~, Onl1·r

XI

§ 1G2. Definition .
§§ 163- 1G7. Principles

11 0
111

HiG
Ui8
CHAPTER VII.
OF HEFUTATION.

PAHT II. - CO::\TFIRi'\IATIO='l".

§§ 1G8-170. Definit ion and Nature
§ 171. Statement of Objections
§ 172. Principles of Arrangement

C IL\l'TP.R I.

161
162
1G2

GEX El ! .\f , I XTJ!(JlllJ GT O HY VIEW.

§§

117- 11~.

Ohjl'ct, Th cm r, Prn('e; s .
§§ 120-122. Hegnnl to ~li11d addre'>Ctl

CHAPTER VIII.

]12

lH

011' THE INl'HODUCTION AND !JERORATION IN CONFIRMAT ION .

§ 173. Introduction Explanatory
§§ lH- 183. Introduction Conci liatory .
§ 18-1. P erorati on
Exercises in Confirmation
..it

C IL\l'TJ-:lt II.
OF THE TllE ::\ 1 E IX COXFIIUIATI O:'O.

§§ 123, 12-1. Form, Stntcmcu t, .

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CHAPTER III.

-~. 1>

O F l ' HOOF .

§§ 125- 127. Nnt.ure, Kind s, P rocess
§ 128. Th e T opi cs

PART III._:._EXCITATION.

118
120

CHAPTER I.
CIIAPTER IV.

GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

OF Tll 1·: T O l'J CS.

§ 12a. Ol~jcct
§ 110. Gcn r ral Di,·i sion of Proof'°'
~.
§§ J:J J- 13:!. 1\11 nh·ti c Proofs
~§ l-3-1- J:!G. Synthrtic ['roofs -1 . Intuit ive; 2. F.mpiri<': il
§§ J:li- 1-11. An tr ccd1•11 t ]' roltaltility
§§ J-1 2- l ':Hi. ~ig-n ~ - 'J \·~ t i rn c• ny, .\ 11tl10rity
§§ H7- l5-! . .Ex:i mpJ,•s .
§ 15:). Com 1il 1~ x .\ r.~~11rne n! ;-;
§ l [IG . ,~:tli.Ji t _,. of 1':11 1pi ri1·:d Pr1 10(,.
§ 1U7 . ;\ ppli 1.":i1 1ili !y of .-\rp;u11ll 11h lo difl 'e rc11t S uhj nc:..,
1

§ 185. Obj ect
§ 186. Process
§§ 187-191. Laws.

121
122
121
12-1

lil
172
172
CHAPTER II.

ml
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1:10
1-18
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01.<, THE TH E":UE I N EXCITATION.

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§§ 192, 193. Form
§§ 19-1-197. Statem ent .
CHAPTER III.

C ll.\l 'TEH V.
OF T II E AHH.\\"C: E :'!I E l'\T OF

17G
li7

OF PATII ET l C EXPLANATION.

§§ 108-202. Principles

A HC1J '.\1 E~T ~ .

§ 158. Importance
§§ 150-lGl. Principles

_.).. .

180

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CONTENTS.

XII

CONTENTS .

C llAPT ER IV.
OF

Tiil~

E'MPLOYJ\ I ENT OF

S\~l\ IJ ' ATllY

CIIAl'TEl~
JN

EXCT l' AT T f) ~.

PAGF.

184

Nc cc~s il y

.
§§ ~04 , 200. M •J<lr.s - IJirect and Ind ircct
§ 2UG . IJ cg ree

VJ.

OF A RHAXGEl'tlE~T I ~ PEP. SU AS I O ~.

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§ 203.

X lll

20-l

§§ 233-238. Principles .

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CHAPTER VII.
01' THE INTRODUCTION AND PEllOHATION I N l'ER SUA Sl ON .

C HAl'TER V.
183

§§ 207, 208. Kinds arlmise ible .
Ex ercises in Excitat ion

20G
207

§§ 230, 2~0 . Kinds admissible .
E xercises in P ersuasion

OF T H E JNT T:ODU CT ION A:-;Jl J"EHORATION L\' EX (' TT.\T lt 1;\'.

180

SECOND GENERAL DIVISION-STYLE.
PART IV. -PERSUASION.

GENERAL VIEW.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER I.

GENEUAL I NTRODUCTO RY ' ' IEW.

OF THE NATUH.E OF STYLE.

JOO
101

§§ 2oa- 21i. Objcct.s
§§ 212-214. l'rocess and Laws .

T ll E:\ 11 ~

2U ~

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER IL
OF THE

2113

§ 241. Definition
§ 242. Analysis •

01r ·rnE GENERAL rROPERTIES Oil' STYLE.

IN PEHSUASlOX.

§§ 243, 244. Divisions - Absolute, Helative

• 103

§§ 215, 21G. Form and Statement

. 211

CHAPTER III.
OF l'E HSUA S IVE

E XPLA NAT I O~,

COX FIIDIATIOX , ,\:\!> EX CIT ATI OS.

PART !.-ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.
Ia5

§§ 217- 21D. Persuasive Explanaii on
§ 220. Confirmation
§ 221. E xcitation

ma

CHAPTER I.

l !J7

GENERAL VIE 'V OF LAN GU A GE AND ITS rn OPERTJ ES.

§ 245. D efi nition
§§ 24G-2~G. Divisions -Oral, Suggestive, Grammatical

CHAPTER IV.

2 13
21G

Oli' MOTIVES .

CHAPTER II.

ms

§ 222. Definition .

:

§§ 223-22n. Classes
§ 230. Principles of Selection

J!Jn

OF TH E ORA L l'HOPERTIES OF STYLE.

202

§§ 250, 251. Division8- Euphony, H armony
§ 252. Study .

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER III.

O>' SPECIF!C ACT S OF PERSU ASION.

§§ 231, 232. P ersuasion, Dissuasion, Incitement

218
220

OF EUI'IION Y. '

203

.J

§§ 253-255. Principles of E nphony .

222

/

XIV

CON TEN Ti:;.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER IV.
OF

JIARM O~Y

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xv

OF S I GN I FICANCE I N STYLE.

rnori::n.

PAGE

271i

§ 20G. Requisites .
§ 297. Spurious Oratory
§ 208. The Nonseusical

§§ 2fiG, 2ii7. Nature-Divisions, Harmony Proper, Rhythm, l\folotly
§§ 258, 250. Harmony Proper, Definition, Principles

CHAPTER V.

27(j

277

CHAPTER III.

OF lUlYTIUl.
OF CONT IN UOUSNESS IN ST YLE.

§§ 2o0-2G3 . Definition, Principles

230

§§ 299, 300. Definition, l\Iocles of Expressing

CHAPTER VI.

280

CHAPTER IV.

OF M1£J,ODY.

§§ 2G4, 2G5. Definition, Kinds .
§ 2GG. l\Iclody of Proportion - Nature, Principles
§§ 267- 271. l\felotly of Arrangement - Natlll'e, Principles
Exercises on the Oral Properties of Style .

OF NATUHAJ.NEl:iS I N STYLI!;.

235
§§ 301-305. Definition, Forms

23G
230

245

PART III. - OBJECTIVE PIWPERT!ES.

CHAPTER VII.
OF

TIU~

SUGGESTIVE ruorEHl'lES 01" STYLI!:.

§§ 272, 2n. Kiuds
§§ 27 4-280. Imitative Properties
§§ 281-283. Symbolical Properties

CHAPTER I.
2·17
247
25J
257

Excrci:;es on the Suggestive Properties

GEN~HAL

VIEW.

280

§§ 30G-309. Definition, Kinds .

CHAPTER IL
CHAPTEii VIII .
Oli' 'l'HE GUAMMATICAL PHOPEUTIES

OF CLEARNESS IN STYLE.

ou·

STYLE.

§§ 284-287. Kinds, Standard of Purity
§§ 288, 28!!. Barbarisms

258
260

§ 2~0. Solecisms

2G2
?r;4

§§ 2!H. 2n2. Tm prnpriotioo
Ex\!n:i.::t:.i u.u tht,; Gr~UUillatic.:.:.l l'rupc-rl.ics

§§ 310, 311. Definition, Source
§ 312. Kinds of Words required
§ 31:1. Number of Words
§ 314. J\eprcse ntative lnrngcry.
~ ~ 91 '."i ~1 Q . ~t"n"t•ffP r.f" thr> ~f"nf f'1H'.P . Relative \Vorct s, Arrang:crncui.,
vt' ltluaL1=..:.::;:, 1\i ~

en APTER
fl! •' 1•;N 1•. HtJ.'I

PART II. - 8UB.JEC'J' lVE PROPJm:rmH.
CTL\PTTT: l
GEiliEHAL \'1.EW.
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§§ 321~ 322.
0 :;:_::;, ]'. r,

Proper En ergy, ~ources

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§ :;~ \. l:1·1 •r1· ~ 1 ' 11t:i.tirc 1111:1:..:· »r.\· .
.
.
·
· •. .'
·
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§§ 325-329. Arrangement, Unity, Capital Members, Coonlmate McmUer::i
~- ;~~!U. Fi;:::~rativo:- E!l'_'r;j~' 1 Ronr<·P~
~§ ;1;il-JJJ,

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XVI

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f

CONTENTS .

'j,

P1\ GE

§§ 334-337. Simple Tropes - Synec<loche, Metonymy
§ 338. ~! etapli o rs
§§ 3>D, 340 . ){cpetition, Ellipsis .
§ 341. Represe ntati ve Imagery, Sp~ei es
§ 342. Vision, Perso nifi cation, H ype rbole
§ 343. Compari son or Contrast.
§ 3•14. l'roso poprc in , Apostrophe, Irony, Doubt, Interrogation
§§ 345-34D. Inversion, Anacolnthon, Aposiopc,;is, Scntenti <Jusness
§§ 350-353. Principles of F ig urative Expression .

314
316
318
318
31!)

321
324
327
330

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INTRODUCTION.

I

I

CHAPTirn IV.

CHAPTER I.

OF Bii:AUTY IN STY LE.

§§ 354, 355. Definition, El ements
§ 35G. Propriety
§ 357. Tone
§ 358. Grace .
§§ 35D-3G2. Culture of Beauty .
Exercises on the Obj ective Properties of Style

332
335
337
338

DEFJNITION OF JUIETOltLC .

§ 1.

has been correctly d e fined to be the
DIScounsE.

RHETORIC

a;;n

Am.'

3.U

This definition presents Tihcto ri c a ~ :i.11 nrt., in 1fo;t in ct io11
from a scie11 cc. Th ere arc tlivt'r' fo1 1tlnrnt'11tal r""l'''ds in
which an art of di scom sc tlitll:rs fro111 a Rc.: it;nce. An ar t
directly and imme<liately concerns itself with the f:tc nlty of
discoursing as its proper subj ect. It <'astm1 s upon that aud
k eeps it ever in its view as it teaches how that may be developed, trained, and guided. A science, on th e other hand,
r egards rather tl 1e product of thi s fa cul ty ; aml, kcc, piJ1g its
view directly upon that, proceeds to 1111 fo ld its na tm e and
proper characte ristics. In perfect accorda nce with this primary di:;tin ction, Art aims e ver at skill as its oue go vernin g
em1 and object; whereas, Scicu ce aims on ly at loi owle!lge.
Still furth er, and in perfect k eeping with th ese d istinctions,
the method of Art is synthetic, constructive; whil e tha t of
Science is analytic and critical. Art takes eleme11t by elem e n~ marks out sta ge by stage successively, nnd constrncts
and develops into a C"rnpositc, harmonious whole of po11·cr
and skill; while Science dissects th e gi ven wholA of di sco urse, and leaves it unfolded, explicated in to its sern rnl
p:irts and clements. In ontor form tlwre w ill ue much t.l1:it
is common m a trne a rt and a trne sc.:icuce of Disconn;e,

OF

xvi

·I

CONTENTS.

§§ 334-337. Sim pie Tro
§ 338. ~Ietaph ors
. pes - Synecdoche, Metonymy
•
§§ 3;9, 340. Repetition E l·!. . ·
·
·
.
'
'PSIS •
•
§ 341 R
· eprescntative JmagerJ' Spc .
§ 0 42 v· .
' cies
·
·
§ ; · C JSwn, .Personification, Hyperbole· . '
43 . omparison or Contrast •
.
.
.
344
?_ · Prosopopreia, Ano <lrnnhc Tr -: · _ · · · •
Si:- 345-349. Inversion A. ·· - "1 "' 1', v iy, Doubt, Interrogation
ut ion Apo ·
.
•
§ ~~ 8 50-353. Principles, ofnaco
p·
. '
siopesis, Sententiousness
igurative Expression .
•
•
.

PAGE

314
316
318
318
319
321
324
327
330

CHAPTER IV. -

INTRODUCTION.
,

OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

§§ 3 54, 355. D efinition Elem t
§ 356. Propriety .
'. . en s
·
•
§ 357. T one
§ 358. Grace .
.
.
§§ 359- 362. Culture of Bea ~
•

CHAPTER I.

=
•

•
•
•
Exercises on h
'.' y .'
•
•
•
•
t e Ob;cct1ve Prop erties of Style

332
335
337
338
339
341

D l,FIN ITIO N OJ>' HHETOJi rc.

§ 1. llll ETO JUC li as been correctly defi ned to be the
1\wr

OF

D.rnco umrn.

Tl 1i,; ill' fi11iti o 11 prcs(·11 ts I'.li d0 ri c a s :lll art., in tli:.;tinctiu 11
fro11 1 a ,;("i t•11 ct>. Th ere arc tlin >rs fH11<l:u11 e 11 tal r csl'cct.s in
11·l1i<:l1 a 11 art of rli scu t1rse diffl:rn fru111 a scie nce. An art
di rec t ly an d irnmcclia tely co 11ccrns itse lf with th e fac ulty o f
di s1·ou rs ing a s its prope r subj ect. It faste11 s n p on that a ud
', •'1 ·11 · it t·\· •'l' in it~ \ii · ff ;i:-; it {1 ·:wlw ~ \ 1(1\\ . tl 1:1i 111 : 1\ l>t· d( ·' c !11pcd, lrain ed, a nLl gi tided. 1\ ~c ie11cu, o l1 ll1 e uU1 er l1<11H..l,
1 1,~:1. ril.-; r:ti.lio:r l.111> 11r111l11d of t.lii.-; fa <:1 il iy : :u11l, ki:i:11iJ1~ iL':
\"i!!IV d iredly npon th:i.t, prOCN!rl s to 1lll fr1 ld its n:1.tm·P. :i.nrl
l'l'<llll" r cl 1 arac1Ae ri ~t.i c:; . I11 l"' '-r'""" a1>c11 nl:111 i:r; wii.1 1 d1i ., 11ri111;tl'.)' d _i~tinctiuu,

!\

~
-

.,
·'
11

f:
J

(I
.,

. A.rt

ai111s ever at.

t!kill

a ::;

i L'i

uw~ .!..!.-u \·cn1i1;.:.(

t·111l a 11tl obj ect; wh e rca:;, :)cic11cc n.iu1:; olll y aL lrnu\\'kdgc.
:-;till furth e r, a nd in p e rfed k ee ping with th ese dist inctions,
t li e rn e tliod of Art is synthetic, co11s.truc tive; whi le that o f
:-;cic 11 cc is a nalyLie a uc1 critical. Art Lak es c lement by e lc 11w 11 t, marks out stage by stage s ncces:;i vely, aud co m<trn cts
:1111[ :1 ,!\·elops in t.o a cu ml'o" iin, l1:1rniu11i 11 11:; 1vl1 .. !1° .. 1· p<> 11··-1·
:u1d s ki ll ; while Scien ee tlissccts th e g iven wlw le of d is1·1111rH', and leaves it m1foklet1, explic:i k d inlo ils se\e r:d
1•:1 1·t s ar11l ele m e n ts . I n oute r fo rm th em wi ll be much tlia t
i,; r·o mmon m a true a r t and a tru e scicu ce of Discour:;e,

,,"

I :'<l'HO IJUCT I01'.

I::\'TRODU CTIOX.

in :1,-111m·h :1s nil :1rt mu >t proceed in i11 tclligence. that is, in
sc ic11 ce ; th e product of a facnl ty must partake of th e prnpe r
char:wtc r of the fa culty. Ski ll in vol vcs kn owledge; :tu<l
:rnalysis impli es syn thesis. But a proper art will be dcvcl- ·'
opcll in a very different spirit from a science; it will ever be
putting the learner upon practice, and abound in cautions
and rul es, wh ile a science will content itself with mere facts
and truths. Accordingly, the most critical and thorough
mastery of a science will not suffice to make an artist; aud
a certain skill a nd ·tact may exist in comparative ignoran ce
of principles. There will be more or less of differell ce, thu s,
in the m.attcr which makes up the body of an art aud that
of a scieuce. An art wi°ii; in particular, present exer cises
for the practical application of its rules, which would he
entirely foreign to the design and nature of a science. In
r espect of imm"?diate subject, th erefore, a.5 a lso of aim , of
me thod, aucl of matter, a proper art will differ from a
science.
The definition also presents di scourse as the limiting or
specifi« subj ect-matter of the art of Rhetoric. This term,
d1:scow·se, like many others in language, is used in different
connection S, for three different purposes : to denote the faculty, the exe rti on or operation of the faculty, a!lll the res ult
or prorluct of th e operation. By earlier write rs it was employed to d cHoto the di tic11rsive facult.y of intelligence, iu 1fo;tinctiou fr om the origin:il faculties, - from the prcse ntativ1 :,
or the intuitive in the broa(lcr import of the word as inclmling both the perceptive a11•l th e proper intui tive ; as

sibly be led to e rror; but if he err in his conelusio us, he
must of necessity either err in his principl es, or com mit
some e rror in his di·scourse; that is, in(lec:d, not r1is,.o1 11·sr•,
but seem to do so."

"It nthls to my calamity lhat [ hn vr. /Ji.•w1mrse nnd R eason. "
Afnssin!Jer.
"Rcnson is her b c in ~ ,
Discu,.;·sive or intuili\·c; discourse
Is oftest y ours, th e latter most is ours." - llfillon.
rr1i f~ Lt~1·n1 is ll S t~tl :i.lso Lo 1l1·_ 11n /1-~ Ll11~ • ~XtH 't '. i st-~

(Ir {.11i s r:u '. 111i v

as thu.; diocrin1inatcd fr(.11n t.1h=; ftlL;nlLi e.:; vf 0rigina1 k110\vledge. Thus Chilliugwor tli : " Gy ,.l/.;cuili'SC Jh ) rn:rn call p ci:~ -

?f

. The u s~
the term to denote the product of thi s facu lty
is too familiar to r equire exemplification.
But these uses of the term as so fa r indi cated r esp ec t
thonght rather as internal and unexpressed . T!tc term very
u:ttnrally has come to deno te also oui·ccti»e tho1w ht ~ '
though t as uttered, as communicated. Such, illrlcc1l, is the
more common use of th e term at present. Arnl as the 11:itcmuodirnc nt of human thoug ht is in langu:igr. \\'e onlinan ly understand now by the term disco nrsc, tlw11glrt co111 nmnicatcrl in language.
Th e more particular dctcrrni11ation :i11tl cl cn'lopment of
t.his ge neral 11 otion of Rh eto ri c will be presc11ted in tJ1 c
ch:1ptcrs that immediately follow.

.

ura'.

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5

PROVIN CE AND F:CLATIONS OF l:l!ETO RfC.

I

I

J.

·~ t

I

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

CHAPTER

II.

OF THE PROVINCE AND RELATIONS OF RHETORIC.

§ 2.

"'""

proper province of Rhetoric, as also its
sp<;icific r elations to other .a rts and sciences,-. are ~determined at once by the faculty which it immediately and
exclusively respec ts, - the facu lty of discourse, or th e
ca pacity in man of comm unicating his mental states to
other minds by means of language .
THE

//

As h as b ee n a lready stated, every a rt immediately r egard s

a faculty whi ch it is its proper aim and object to d evelop
and tra in . The art of vocal music fastens thus on the facul ty of song; th e art of computation , on the faculty of co mputing by numbe rs. Rh e toric, as the :ut of Discourse, in
like m an ne r, fa stens on the fac ulty of di sco urse .
Thi~ term - disco11rsc - in its m ore stri ct and proper irnpurt, deuotes only the di scurs ive, the rc li cct.iv c faetdLy of
mternge noc. lt cx.: iud c~ in this stri cter impot't the pe rce ptive and the intuitin; facul 1ics, as w ell as Lli c C.'\.e rci ~u~ uf Lh u
sensibilities and of the will. And it is in a .:P.rtain sP.nsie <Y>l'r r.:t to sa.r th at Hhctorie C•)lt<'<' l'IH il"t"ii' rn !l v willi il1 i' i':w nl ty- thu faculry of comp:ui.son, of t h<lll!..'.ii t in iu; 1i :u Trrn<>r
import, which is the mor e r ecently accepted use of the wurd .
For human speech is properly aw1 sLri<0rJy r,lie e m]H_Hli"7ueut
ol' tho ught - of th" exP.rr.isPs of th r; rli .< r nr.,iv0. trwnlrv. The
feelings and the di :;po;;it.ion.s of the will Jiml eA1Jre6~iou iu

.i.,
!

.-j

speech onl y through th e th oug h t. So in :ill s11ok c11 or
wr itten di s<.:ou r sc, fe elin g :uH1 purp ose, pasc; io n :11111 1lct(' n11i nat.i on, appear only throligh mor1ifi cations of tii <' tlinn ~h t.
Thi s is tru e a lso of all t hose states of t he i1 itcliigf' ncc, nil
t hose cognitions whi ch are atta in ed tl 1rongh t.lic fa c ulti es
of orig inal knowl e dge - th ose of perce pti on alll1 intui t io n.
Th ey appea r only as modifying prop e r t houg h t - prupcr
<1i sc ursive cogni tions. But in loose, rnde, popn lar e xpression,
discou rse as embodied in la nguage is co rrec tl y rqiresu nlcd
as co mpreh ending the u tter a nces a lik e of all form s of th e
iutclii gen ce, h owever moclifi cd liy th e v:1rio 11 s fedi ngs a nd
s tat es of the w ill.
Rhetori c is thu s correctly r eprese nted
by Dr:. Campbe ll to be " the graHcl art of co mmuni eation,
n ot of i(]c as oul y,' bnt of se ntinw nts, pa ssio ns, (li spos iti o n.<,
a ncl purposes."
Furthe r, hnman speech has origi 1i atcd not in a m e re 1k s ire
to n ltcr m e ntal states, bnt r ather in the in s t.inl'li1-e inipuJ.-;c
to comm un icate t o an oth e r mim1. All hrn g1 1:1g0 is tl1u s
shap e d am1 colored in its cssc nti c1 l p ec uliari ties by tl1i:; n :fe re nce to a noth e r mind to whi ch the tho ugh t it uml101li l's is
to be imparted . It is essen tia lly a n impa r ting medium , not
merel)7 an utte rin g or expressing body of th o11ght.
Of tbe various names by \Thic h the ar t is cksig na tc d, o ne,
oratory, exp resses thi s no t ion of imp a r ti n ~, co m1nu11icati11g,
iml'li ed in nil nor mal <li s1:01 1r:-aci, as it l'"ittl s <li rcdl_y tu tli e
m ind s :1.d11r t'Ssc11 :1s it s 1Jl>j cd . :rnd :tt o n c·c 'l l '..'.'..'.' ' ' l ' il 1c· j, J, :t
of <111 cil ~· ct. to l ie 111'< 11111, ·1 ·1! i11 t l1<·t1i. T l1i ' i,. :l!r·1···' ;, :·, .. iJ ,, .
more foll aucl pru1ier clcsig11 atiull oC tlic· ar t. Tl1·· ILl!ll•' ,. /,, _
r;11.1 :iU;r: 1ln1p:; ll i::; icl c: ct of cffcd uu au uthcr m':" l i11q •Vi •:<l .i11
l""'l"er r:1.Lif1l1fl.i di<of'.<111l"'f'.. :rn d poin ts 0 111.1• to th e s1111r<"P:\!1Lj

1

11i..:l1 1·l "·i 1;. rw•·

I fr1 >111 ()1· : 1! i>n· . :11 1d \\( :1111>1.1 111, l<'!' lll
fd flHJ ...; 1• f(1n1i:-; !ii' di _
. . (. () JJJ'< (' i 11 \'> Iii , Ii t!J, . ....:; ~1 :1k·T :111 !1' !()1 1-..:
hi111sell' 1110 1·1_•. tu tlH_~ .111 1.'. t· tj 1._111 t1H 111rili g 11! 11i1
:1:111 !( ·i ·li:1~:
wilh ~ r· (' Jllin ~· i;ir ~:·1·lt": i!n f ·..: ·:. . ~1!' tlll· in:n1! ;; 11( ' 1 -.: ::1!! lr· ~..:!J !'....'-.
1

tt ll tl vr a11y c !l t: ~__..t

lie

i~ Lo.J lll"1.1di.1i '.;_'. lll

t.!w1n .

:~ ( : 1

;i ll

f.rJ]( ":

I":L ·

6

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

1'1\0Yl:\CE A:\D HEL\T! 0\:3 llF J: IJl·: J'< ) l:l(' .

tional discourse must ever be communication, not mere objcctless uttcra11cc. In like mann er, the name rhetoric, prnperly and 01·igi11ally held to denote the art of the speaker, and
to limit its view to mere speaking, with no reference to source
or to effect, and so specifically differing both from eloquence
and oratory, is yet not to be regarded as excluding either.
All rational discourse, by whatever name designated, implies a
communication from·one mind to another. It involves ever
the three essential element.~ of a subject, object, aml a relation between them ; in other words, of a mind addressing, a
mind addressed, and the act itself of addressing.

tcrs nnd co rn~itions hy these sciences rc ;; p ccti\'(~ ly. It i:;
l'hi1t that Rh etoric rnnst fonud itself 011 :tll-11ut u1 1 u111: tu
th e ex clu sion of th e otl1crs.
Tl1i s mistake or defect in foulll1i1tg Rl1 ctoric on one to tl1e
cxelw,ion of the other nomol ogical sciences lias sing nhrl y
marked leading rhetorical treatises. Dr. 'IVliatcly thus 11:1 "
rcgnnled Rhetoric as an offshoot of Logic. Ile acco111in!.!11·
restricts its province to argnrnentati ve corn posit.ion, cxcl u1l ing
fro111 it all con sideration of judgments an<1 co n cc l't ~ . :1ntl :idmi tting only reason ings - in fact, only OllC alli1 tlie le;;s i111portant class of reasonings, although all arc cqn:1.ll y higic:d
]'l'Otlucts.
Dr. lllair, on the other hand, in liis extcusivc \York on
nltetoric, treats it tltrongho11t :1.S a lll C l'C dt'p:ut1n cnt of _,l:-;tltctics - a purely critical art, lying wholly within the do111:1iu
nf Taste.
Still furth er, to lilllit excmpliflcations to si 11gle :rntliors,
tlie able German rhetorician, Tl1 erc1nin, mak es the art a
pnrcly ethical procedure. E loquence, ltc claims, is a virtue.
Th ese views a.re all of them partially correct. Th ey arc,
l1owever, all imperfect and one-si11ecl . The more exact relations of Hhetoric to thccc sciences rcspectiYcly " ·ill be cxl1ibitcd in the sections that immediately follow.

§ 3. Discourse, as the commun ication of on e 's own
thoughts, feelings, and di spositions to another by means
of language, and under the r egulation ·of the faculty
of thought, stancls in a vital relation to each of the
three great m e ntal scien ces of Logic, JGsthetics, and
Ethics , and a lso to Grammar. All discourse should
b e at th e same time logical, ms thetical, and moral, as
well ~s grammatical. But Rhetoric, or the art of Discourse, is n ot properly to be r egarded as a department
of either of these sciences. It only presupposes them,
assumes them, and develops itself in conformity to their
principles . Th ese scien ces are h ence to be r egarded
as sciences conditional to Rhetoric.
The three mental sciences - Logic, lEsthetics, nnd Ethics - have been fitly called by Sir 'William Hamil ton tlie
nomological sciences; inasmuch as their proper object is to
present the laws, in other worrl s, the necessary or univers[1I
characteristics, of mental phenomena in these several departments. Discourse, as communication of mental st.ates generally, should found itself immed iately on these nomologi cal
!'ciences rather than on proper phenomenal psychology. Jt
should take the general forms of these various mental 1.J1cnomena as determined in res pect of their necessary charac-

I

I

!
I

l

.1

§ 4. In r espect of th e matter of disco m sc, Rh etoric
de ri ves its r egnla tive principles m ore irnrn ediate l.v fro m
Logic ; in r es pect of the form of disco m se, from JEsth ctics; and in r espect of the e nd or obj ect of discourse, from Ethics.
Every rational proccdnre contains these three clements :
matter or content, form, :ind encl. I n cli:;conrse, the 111:11 tn
or co ntent is thought; and it is the especial fnncliou of logic: tl science to prescribe tl1 e conditions :i.ncl form s of' tl1011g·ltt.
nu t, in rlisconrsc, tlt o11gl1t is ut.terccl, expressed. It t:1k1 ~ s
:t fi>rm ; :i.rn1 it is the prnpcr fnn ction of <1's iltC'til':tl scivn cc Lo
l•rcscribe the con11i tio11s an1l elements of forn t.

8

THE AP.T OF DISCOURSE.

Further, discourse is more than mere thought, more th an
me re though t uttered or formed; it is thought communicated,
implying a mind add ressed in the communicati on. It loo ks
to an cad, and it is the proper pro vince of Ethics to prescribe
the conditions and f01:ms of all ration al procednres as determin ed by their governing end.
In all discourse, it should be rem a rked, as in eve ry form
of rational activity, the whole spirit moves, as a thinkin g,
feeling, willing power, ever one and undivided. In every
thought it thiu.b.~~,_feeling, taste is involved, as is also disposition, purpose, wil1. W e a re able, however, to discrim in ate
these several aspects of its complex action, a11d to r egard
any of its acts more exclusively as an act of tho ught, or as
a product of tas te, or as an expression of purpose. So, likewise, any act of th e spirit of man may prese nt on e or an other
of these elements in greater promineuce relatively to the
others. It may be mor e predominantl y and characteristically an act of thought, an act of taste, or an ac t of inte11 tion
or determin a ti on. Yet it should never be forgo tten tha t no
one of these clements is utterly wanting. Jn e very thought,
taste and conscience are really concerned, even when r elatively they are only concerned to a slight degree.
~· 5. Rh etoric, in respect of the matter of di scourse,
more immediately grounds itself on Logic.

L ogic, in its stri cter anrl more scientific impor t, is th e science of th e COJl(li tions and forms of thought: of thought as
th e prollu ct of the discursive foenlty of th e intelligence th e fa cul ty of though t in th e narrower sense. Thi s is th e
faculty of th e True, its esse ntial fun ction being to recogni ze
the true in all objects of lrnm:rn knowled ge. A s sncl1 , it is
the highest facul ty of huma n intelligence, a nr1 its pl'ofluct the
culmina ting produ ct of our powers of cog nition. All p erceptions and all intuitions are for this faculty of Thought the faculty of th e True. The mind never rests satisfi ed with
them, but ever presses on from attaining any per crption or

J

i11tu ilio11 It> w n1 c j111lgn w11 t n?' ['Cc li11g it, O I' ' till fu1 tiler lv
so111e <kriY:tLil'c fr om th e j111l;,;1 uc nt as :t c•>11cc•pL o r a n· a.'u1 1
i11g. l'el'ception s a111l i11t11i tiou:; a rc the dotn I <; tl1 o w;l1t, - .
SL'C< L;, germs, whi ch rc:1ch their ullim:tte fol'lll aml pcrfed io11
only as taken up and sl1:tpcd into thi s highr!o t form of' the
i11telle.ctual life. Rhetoric g rounds ihclf more imm u liatt:ly
on L ogic, because this science furnishes to it th o y:nious
form s of thought, th e various forms of the Trn e as th e irnm<'dia te eleme nts of all rli sco urse - its p rope r sulij ect-111:1tler,
in which all sentim ent a nd fee ling, as all disposition ~11111
purpose, arc emborli cr1 for commn11i cati on to other rni111ls.
J\Io re than this ; all di sco urse effects its oiJj ,,c;t - com111llll icatcs to others - by means of la nguage ; an d !:t11g11agr· i- li1 1t
the cr ea tion anc1 instrument of thoug ht. Di:;cou1·sr , tJ1,·refo re, looks to L ogi c not only fo r its rna tter s11it:1Uy f<irnw1 l
and sbape'Cl fo r its nsc, - for all its fo rms of llicrnght tlirn11 gh
wl1ich alone it expressP-s fe eling aml Jilll'f>OSL', - hu t :tL'" li>r
its forms of la ngn ngc, tl11·o u~t whi i.:h alone as its m .. di 11 11t
and organ it reaches th e mind which it aLldresses.
But alth ough Rhetori c h ol1ls thus immcd'atcly of Logic,
it is no proper depa rtment of that science. It hears a rela tion
to it, althoug h far broade r and far more comprchcnsh ·c. si milar to that of ari thmetic, or the a rt of co mputa tio n. \\'l1 l' n
Aristotle says, as qu oted by Dr. "Wh ately, tha t Rh etori c is
an offshoot of J_,ogic, we are not to unde rstand him as mr :rnil1g to teach tha t it is a depar tment of th a t science any more
th an as meaning to teach tha t it is a depa rtm ent of E thi cs,
when he says, in the same connection, tha t it is a n offa hoot
of Political S cience.

§ 6. Rh etoric, in respect of the form of di scourse,
uronncls itself more immediat ely
. on .JEsthetics.

~

JEsth etics is th e science of Form . O ther\\i se it ma y Le
rkfin crl , in r espect to its proper object, as th e seicnf'C (l f I ho
Beau tiful. 01' still for tl1 er, it may be d c litH~rl. in rc.' l"'<' t to
the mental experi ence of th e beautiful, as th e scieuce of

10

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

Taste. Th e B eautiful is the p erfect in form, and bears the
same relation to a proper obj ect of the sensibility that th e
Tru e bears to a proper object of the intelligence. Th e taste
is the cu lminating form of the sensibili ty, as the judgment is
th e culmina ting form of the intellige nce. A ll other forrns
of the sensibility stand in the relation of data, conditi ons,
germs, to th e taste-sensibility, just as all other forms of the
intelligence are but data, conditions, g erms, to the disc ursive
intelligei_ice, or faculty of thougl1t proper.
Inasmuch as disco urse necessarily has form, it comes under the c~trol of th e science of form - the science of the
B eautiful, or of Taste - proper resthetic science. Hh etoric,
accordingly, presupposes a nd assumes this science. It accepts from it its notion of what form is ; of the nature, the
elements, the kinds of the Beautiful; of the co1Hlitio11s antl
gradations of Taste. The construction and the •formation
of discourse is throughout a n ::cstheti c proce<1ure. Just so
far as it proceecls without th e control of Taste or in viol:ition
of tl1 c prope r condi tions of the B eautiful, it is im perfect, not
full , prope r d iscourse. Taste must be exercised in th e selection and management of th e thought which is th e proper
matter of discourse. It must, especially and p1;edominantly,
control the embodiment of the thought in lang uage ; for this
is, more essentially and characteristically, an ::esthe tic procedure. It must, moreover, ever guide in the adaptation of
disco urse to the mind of the hearer; for all mirnl is xsthctic
ill ·its nat.nrc, and, to be properl y and effectually moved, mu st
be acldrcssccl in accordance with its res thetic na ture. Its
taste must not be offended, if th e full end and object of discourse is to be realized. 'Ve shall find, thus, th e prin ciples
of T aste appearing all along throughout the entire a rt of discourse, as rules to guir1e in its constrnction.
The same view of the relations of Rhetoric to JEsthetic
sci ence will present itself if the matte r be rega rded from
another species of ::esthe tic nomenclature; for it is to be
borne in mind that psychological science is her e immature,

.

I
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I
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l'l!UYL\ CE

"\~!) 1:1·: \xr_w~ s

llF. '. :111: 1.llJ!i(' .. .

11

a.11rl its nomeuclaLurc is uxeeed111 g ly 1leltc1L"1 1L 111 d1 ·l1111i <' J1('''
and prucision. T ito ima g i11:1.Lio11 is very go 11c ra ll y rct.11g11izcd
i11 cu rrent li terature as thu prope r :·c:;thet ic fa cu lty . It is
pro1wrly defin ed to be t11 e faculty of form. nut this is :t
vimv of it taken from tho rwtive s id e. Jt i., wit 1111ly facult y
hut capac ity of form. I t receives as well as oil e rs. It is
bu tlt Jonna formans a nd f onnrt fonnalr1, . ] I:; i1ru1"·r fun ction a n<l province as passiv e, as capacity, is lo rr·cL:iv u (Jhjccts
HO form ed as to Le in r elation to th e r ccciYi11g mine! to rccci ve thew, in other words, as fo rm s, and as acli 1·c, as fau 11lty, to represent objects as formed to otl 1er rcceivi11g mi11cls ;
in oth er words, to prese11t forms. A s c1i.'<co1m:c ic:. i1 1 its
p ro per, essential nat nrc, a commm1i ca.tio n to oth 0r 111i11rk ir.
is the im agin ation which is tl1 e mo re c.";1:111 ial f:u :1il t.y e1111c,, l'll cd iu di sco11rs,;. lts special pro1"i11c" l1 c ru is to r<m11 ll1u
though t in such verbal bo<ly tl1at it sl1all he n· C(· i1·1·d hy tl11,
mind arldrcsserl. ~n a,Jrn e se nse, t.hcl'<'li>n', Ll1 e c.,n ,; ll'lldi.,11
of llisco11rse is th e prope r work of th e i111:1gi 11:1 Lio11 as tl1 e
facul ty of fo rm. It comes, :i cconlingly , u11d l' r th r) in1mcdinte co ntrol of msthetic principles, which a rc l.)\\ t th e l:ms of
th e im agination.
In like manner, if the Yicw be taken frum the ot hL:r side
- from the effect of di sco urse in the mind :1tltlressl'•l - it i"
clear th a t, only as tli e discou 1·se is sl1apct1 in ac:conla11 co >rit h
the conditions on "·hich th e pn ssi1·c im:1gi11:ition . th e im ~g­
in alion ns the capacity of for m, c:rn rccci1·e it. or be i111 pr0>:St'<l
hy it., c:rn there be a ny com111n11ica ti nn of tho11;;l1t . :111.r tlis0011rse. It must, conseq11 c nt.ly, in Ol'der to aceompl ish ils
proper e nd, be ~es th eti c . I t must be r cgnb tecl tl1rougho11t
hy t.he pri11 ciplos of xst!t etic science.

§ 7. Rhetori c, in respect to tli c end nf di srourse,
g ruu11ds itself more im111cdiately on Etl1ies or 111oral
SC' l l' ll CC .

I
I.

I..

Ethi cs, defin ed i11 res pect to th e hi ghest for 111 of th e mental fac ul ty whi ch it resl'cct:;, i:; 1hc se ic11ce of' I li e 11 ill ; or m

•
12

THE ART OF DISC OURSE.

Pl-:OVl1'CE Al\D RELATf O '.\'S OF l:Ill '. TC> J:I C.
\

r esp ect of the proper object of the will and in its positive an d
m ost perfect form, the science of th e G ood. The huma n
spirit moving towards an object in th e nccess:-iry a ctivi ty of
its nature m oves right or wrong, tow ard s good or evil ; a ud
all i ts proper action participates in a moral nature, as i t is
the outworking of a proper moral be ing . Discourse, as
communication and address, is so far e thical, moral, in i ts
ch aracter.
' Ve shall fi ud, acco rdin g ly, th e ar t of di scou rse a ssuming
and apply ing propei; ethical principles all along. It accepts
th ese principles, as it docs those of logic a nd of xs th etics. It
does not profess to in vestigate anrl establish them. All t hi s
is fore ign to it, and it is an error of au imperfec t, one-sidecl, ·
and partial vie w of the matter, to r epresent Rhetoric as a
~partm e nt of Ethics, equally as to r epresent it as a pa rt of
..... ogic or of JEsth etics.
~ 8. Rhetoric, in respect to the outward body of discourse, whi ch is lan guage, grounds itself immedi ately
on th e sci e n ce of Grammar.

Grammar is the science of the sente nce, in other words, of
the verbal exp ression of a thou g h t. lt tak es from logic the
vari ous fo rms of th ought, and presc ribes t he proper form~ in
which th ey should be expressed in l:w g u:tge. A s an art, th e
proper object of whi ch is to teach how to speak or wri te cor r ectly and well, and co usequ en tly , as constru ctive in i ts
proper m ethod, it begins with the elemental form s of thought,
pre$enting on e by one successively, and indicates the form of
wore! whid1 la11gu,1ge furlliolwti fur e xpretitiiug iL, a11J Ji ruceeds thus, step by ste p, stage by stage, with appropr ia te
exercises for practice p recisely as in an art of a rithm etic,
th roug h all the general forms of tho ugh t and all the form s
of verbal cxpre8sio11 appropriated r espectively to those forrns
of thought, till it h as nn folc1ecl the whol e art of con structing
the sentence. H erc Grammar, as th e scien ce of langungc,
properly stops. Rheto ri c, as th e art of di scourse, begins

ju ~ t at thi s point -

hcgiu s \Y hcrc g rammar stPps. It :1ccc pts the \Vholc doct riue of the sent e nce as ta ug l1t iu gra 1nm:ll'. It docs n ot in ves ti gate nor cblior:1 te th e pr in cipl t> of
th e se ntence . It is not a <h·p:w t u1c 11t of g rarn m,n , a:s ;;r:.1 11m:ir is n ot of rhetori c. It presuppo;;cs gram 1n:1r, :.m1 1rit h
t hese gramm atical principles ass umed , it proceeds to treat of
th e comm uni ca tion of thonght thro ug h b ngu:1ge, tl1rough th e
.'< '11tc11 cc, to a noth er mind. Gramm :1r, Llrn s, is co11tliti u11al to
1'11 etoric; b u t not, like logic, ::csth ctics, :11H1 ctl1i cs, co11t1iti u1ml as a science, but ::i s an ::irt, elem en ta ry :1 ml co11 stit11ti ve. It stands much in th e r elatio n to rh e to ric in 1rhi ch
a r.i thmetic stands t o m ensurati on. I t is rndi 111 c 11 ta l, prel irnin:1.ry , and introductory to th e proper a r t of ,Ji<,co nrsc. lt
should be familiarly u11derstootl by th e stud L:n t 0f tli st.:n11 r ~ e
b efo re h e commen ces thi s :llt, as aritlrnw ti <.; shollld he pradically m as ter ed b efore on e slucli cs engi11 cc rin:; or s11n«'_1·i11g.
A s the commo n treat.iscs 011 gr:11n111:1r in tia' E1 1~ li ' h
language are rath er sciences than a r ts, k1l'i11 g as ll1t ·ir
go verning end knowle11g e or science rather t11 :rn skill , a11d,
be in g analy tic rathe r than co11Strn ctiY e in th t.: ir 111e tl1 0<!, it
w ill not be ou t of place h er e to imli c:1tc tl1 e l'r' ' l' '"r , (11 ,ly
of g rammar as ClJlltliLi on:il a11d iu lrocl uct ury Lu r b . luri,·:i l
stndies.
Gram mar sl1 onld b e stmli c1l :l..q a n :1rt r:1Lhcr th:i.11 as a
science, sin ce the m o re importa nt oLj cl't, by fa r, to he :itt~i.in e d by th e study , especiall y if th e g rnrnmar be tli :it of"
ulle's vernacular tongue, is skill in speaking arnl writin g tli c
hn!!nage, not skill ill in terpre ti11!.?; 1li sco11roe. The st 11<h ·
th erefore, shoultl proceed, as al ready i11 di<.;:ttcll, by di '1 i: :r- G
stages, gi ving opportu ni ty fo r t horo ugh e xe rcises on each snccessive element or p ri nciple, for acr1n irin g :1 p er f"cc t pract ic:i l
rn :1 st.e ry of the whole art of sc 11tcn ce-eo ustrn ct io11. Th e n~
an; Ll1rce wicl c:ly Lli,ti 1:gLti sl1a11 e ,;L<te'. CS i11 th e :ut. l> c·:ufog :t
clnsc :-inalogy to those in a r ith meti cal st 1J1ly . Th e re is. li1A .
\\'h:1 t may b e Yie wccl ::is grammatiC':il n otation . c mhr:1ci11g
th e :irt of p:i.ragra phing , punct uati ng, arnl capitali zing. Thi s

Li

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

PJW VI K CE A N IJ REL A TI U:\S U L; 1:iwru1: 1c .

should be first and separately mastere<l, as not only preventi11g distraction in proper rhetorical practice, but also as positively helpful in. working into the mind of the learner that
idea of progress by stages which is so essential in all <1iscourse through all its clauses, sentences, and paragraph s, arn1,
moreover, of unity and relative subordination in its parts.
The second stage embraces the ground-rules, so to speak, of
the sentence, founded on the principles of its constitue11 t
elements,~ the subject, the predicate, and the copula, wi th
their r espective forms and modifications. The third stage embraces the more general processes in sentence-construction,
in which the elements of the second stage, the subject, th e
predicate, and the copula, in their respective forms and modifica tions, are constructed into proper sentence-form. This
stage exactly corresponds to that stage in ari thmetic wl1i ch
embraces the doctrines of Fractions, of Roots and P owers,
and of Proportion, - it contains the rules of Concord or
Agreement, of Arrangement, of P ro priety, and of P recision.
H ere, also, mn,y be pro perly included a familiar and practical introduction into the use of imagery - the doctrine of
symbolism in language. With this thorough methodical
grounding in the principles of proper sentence-constrnction,
the learner is prepared intelligently and without distrnctio11
to enter upon proper rhetorical studies.

esteemed a co 11stitucnt pa rt of the ar t of rheturiL" Din;r,;c
consillerations, however, jnstif)' the prupri ~ty ul' sqi;1 r:1 ti11g
them.
First, E locution is not essc11 tin,] to r hetoric i11 onlv r tu
consti tute it an art; lx:cause, as has bee n al1·ead y re111:1rkcd,
there are other ways of co1111111111 ica ti11g thoug ht t1"u1 liy I li e
voice.
Secondly, we hn,ve a complete product of a rt \1he11 tl1 e
thought is embodied in a proper fo rm of la11guage. :'-:l 1urt
of this, of incorporn,ting in to language, the a r tist ca 1111ut sto p.
F or no art is complete till its product is cxprcss1·1l. or l' tllbodied. Jl,fe re invention docs Hot constitut e th e 1Yhol<' of
artistic power, in any proper sense of tl1 at ex[>re,;si011 . 13 ut
when the thought is in veste<l in bn g nage, a m1rk of :ut is
completed. A fin t her cxerLi on of n,rti., tie po11 1· r is 1101 11ecessary in order to give it expression. IL requires 110 skill
to dictate, no oratorical dexterity, ccrta i11ly, lo cl111111 1it lo
writing. vVe have then the limits of a coml'Iele a rt Lic i'urc
elocution.
ThircUy, the arts of rhetoric proper, and of clocutiou, arc
so distinct that great excellence in either may consi st with
great defi ciency in the other. There ha,·e been m:rny orators
who co uld write good orations but we re misernble speakers;
an d many excellent actors, who were utte rly u11 abl c to constrnct an original discourse.
Fourthly, the modes of traini ng in these di ffe rent ar ts arc
so 1mlike, tlrn.t convenience, both to the in strnctor n,nd to tl1 c
pupil, requires that they be separated.

~ 9. The art of rh etoric cannot in strictness be r egarde d as having acc01npli sh ed its encl until th e m enta l
sta tes to be co mmuni cated are actually conveyed to th e
mind addressed. It, ther efore , may properly compreh e nd Delivery.
The mode of communication, h owe ver, is not essenti a l. The thoug ht m ay Le conveyed by t h e pe n or
by the voice . EI,OCU TIO N , or th e v ocal expression of
thoug ht, is not accordin gly a necessary part of rhe toric .

Elocution or vocn,l deli very has, i11dcetl, generally been

"'
'
"
~.:-~.)'dd';~~;,

Ol•' Tl!E UT ILITY OF Hlll'.TOl:ll'·

CHAPTER III.
OF THE UTILITY ·OF RHETORIC.

.-.

§ 10. As e v e ry proper art re spects a faculty, and as
every such faculty is susceptible of d evelop m e nt and
in vigoration which the art seeks a s its great ai m to
· promote and secure, every true conception of rh e toric
mus t regard it as a developing and invigoratin,q art.
There is a most rema rkable oppos ition between the vi ews
of the ancients . in this respect and the curre nt opinions of
the moderns. \Vith th e ancients, rhetoric was chi efl y prized
as an art whi ch dernloped and cnltfrated th e facul ty of
speaking. Their written systems and their teachings i n
schools w ere designed and fitted to draw out thi s faculty,
and strength en and improve i t ,by judicious practice. T hey
sought this even, as there is some reason to b elieve, a t t he
sacrifice of good taste. They loved luxuri a nce and laboreLl
in every way to promote it. The modern s, on th e oth e r
h a nd , have too much regarded rheto ric as a merely criti cal
art. They have tlircctcrl their at.lentiu11 rnai111y I<> prn11 i11.!.:·,
r nprps;;i 11g, and g uidi11 g; auLl !tave al1m;6L wlllllly 11cgleeLe1l
to apply any sti mulus to the facu lty of discou rse itself. Thei r
i nfluence on the studen t. of oratory has been, accordingly, at
b est but a n egative influence, and any thing but fostering
ai11l nonrishin<:;. Thi > h:l> h. en n11n1mn>t1111nvn irbl1l0 r r , 11lt
from th eir exclurling from t heir systems tl1 e art of invention.
For it is h ere - in invention - that the creative work in
d isco urse ma inly lies. Style, consiLleretl ap:ut from inven tion , is lifeless an d dead, and ca n feel no stimulus if applied.
0

17

It is, thus, not without reason that me rely criti c:tl sy stems of
rheto ric are ge ne rall y rcg:ml( ~ .i as of 111orc i11j1 1ry tl1:t11 lir·1 1clit to the stud e nt of eloquence, at least until tl11• fal'lllly of
sp e:tking has been con side rabl y (1c1T lopr d.
Tlie com1uo11l y rer:civetl max im,'' JJe wli o is ka l'll i11g to
spea k with accuracy and order is leal'lling al '< o to think with
accuracy and order," expresses but a part of th e t rntli . The
study of style, and especially tl1 e stwly of sty le as :1 n art
in the exercise of composiug, 1111doubtctl ly C011d ucL·s to accur ate and methodi cal hab its of thought. But ;, lo speuX· with
accuracy aml onl er," inducli ng in th e cx prcssiu11 nut (>1il y the
selection of language, but also t he inve n tion of ll1Uttght, acts
more directly on the intellect in cle tl'rm i11 i11g its li:i bils.
The exercise 11 ot only ll.iscip lin es it to reg ula r :t11d :ll'l'11r:ite
thought; it also directly in vigorates an1l tl e1clnus the i11kl lect itself. Indeed, th ere is 110 exerc ise tk1t mo1·c dircd ly
a nd more powerfully teuds to m en tal develo1rnw11t :i111l im igoration, wh en pursu ed in co11 form ity with the p ri11C"ip1r·s o f
thought and expression. The mental effo rt c:ilk-1l forth in
th e in vention of thougl1t and t he emli0Llime11t of it in :11>J>l'l1priate language is, w hen directed in tellig ently a11d co1Tc1-tly,
at th e same time, the most plea sing an<1 a lso tl1 e most im·igorn.ting and fo stering which is possibl e to th e hurn:111 111i111!.
Rhetoric, th erefore, studi ed as an art, in co11n cctio11 witlt :1
practical application of its pr i ncipl e ~, may :lllll ;dwnld l ie
u11c of th e most pl e:is!n~ anc1 011c ot' tl1e nt o:it pr":it;1l.lc: oi'
ot11rli ,. ,,

§ 11. The faculty of discourse or the p ower to comnmnicate thou g ht by lan guage is tlic common nt1Tih11t<'
of nw n, nnd is snsccptible of in definite clegn·cs of' i111pnwc mcn t and c ultivation.
Speech is the di stin ctive attribute of humani ty. Thi s
g ennral trnth 11 ceds no mo1lifk:tt iou to nwet. tlw <·:i ;:c of d1':1fmntes. \ Vh ile, umloubtfidly, i ndiviLluals 1lifl'e 1· ind eli11ik ly
in the flegre es to which they ri se in the j'O\\'CI' uf Yigoro11 s
2

18

I

I

.I

f
.~
I

THE ART 01? DISCOURSE.

lW TllE UTILITY OF l:IIETOl:IC.

thought and of forcible expression, while there are geniuses her e as in every other art, still it remain s true that this
faculty is subject to the laws which regulate all the various
activities of' our nature. The degree of excellence to be
attained in dis co urse will depend on the trai ning- on its
mode and the degree to which it is carried. Orator fit - the
orator becomes such. There is no such thin g as a natural
orator in the strict sense of the expression. The most eminent orators and writers have ever been those who h ave subj ected themselves to the most thorough training. Patrick
Henry, the most illustrious example of natmal oratory, so
far as there is any such, weht through a course 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
in vestigations into history, and particularly his patient and
continued study of the harangues of Livy and the elaborate translations he made of them, which, to say the least, is
very un common. Dr. Barrow used to copy out the fin est
pass:iges of classical and ecclesiastical writers, particularly
Demosthenes and Chrysostom ; and, we are told, " took infinite pains with his compositions, transcribing them over and
over again." The' secret history of every speaker and every
writer that has attained great success would show them to
have been diligent students in private, like William Piukrn'! y of' l\Iaryland, the most distinguished lawyer of his time,
al though they way lmve done as Goodrich in his" Recollecti ons" says Pinkney did, - "affect to rely chiefly on l1is
nati,-e powers." Pinkney was once heard, he says, "about
five o'clock of a winter morning, r eciting and committing to
memory, in his room, tl1 e peroration of a plea which he cleli,-ered the same day before the supreme court." Coo.-1rich
tells a similar anecdote of Daniel " rcbster, inclicating the
secret source of his oratorical power. " 011 a certain occasion l\Ir. "\Vebster startled th e Sc11ate hy a beautiful and
striking remark in relation to the extent of the British em-

pire, as follows: 'She has clotted the surface of the wl1ole
g lohe with her possessions a 11<l military posts, whose 111orni11g llrum-beat, following the sun an<l k ee pi11g com p:lll,Y \1·i1h
the hours, circle the earth cbi ly wi th oue couti11nous allll 1111hrokcn strain of the martial airs of Eng land.' On going
out of the Senate, one of the members com plimented J\lr.
\\Tebster upon this, rnying tl1at he was all the rn ore struck
with it as it was evidently impromptu.. 'You arc mi stlkcn,
said lVIr. ·w·cbster; 'tho idea occurred to rn e whcu I 1rns on
th e ramparts of Quebec some months since. I \\Tote it 1lo1rn
and rewrote it, and after several trials got it to snit me, a111l
l:tid it up for use. The time came to-1lay, and so I p11t it
in.'" High oratory is the result eYcr of study :wcl lal1orio11s
traiuing.
~ 12. Th e means by which every art seek s it s d e ' 'clopment and improvement are tw ofi_,Jd, - the st udy
of the nature and principl es of th e art, am! exe rc ise.

It is obvious that there can be no true skill or cxccllc11c;c
in any art unless its nature and the necessary J>riucipl•·s
which govern it are umlerstood. It is e11u ~tll y obvious that
no amouut of this kn owledge will, without exercise, secure
practical skill in the art.
ObYious and im'lnest.ion;tbl e as are th e.'3e remal'k', yPt. t.h0
011tirc force ancl propriety of each of them are assail c• l,
i n<lirectly and in application, by tliffere11 t classes of miUtls.
0He elas~ rejeeL Llttt ;;tudy of principles in an art ou the
g1·ound that the observance of rul es at the time will ineY it:t bly impede the execution. They ridicule the notio n of a
poet's asking himself, at the time of composi1ig . what tl1i s
rul e r equires aml what that rul e prohibits; of a rnu sicia11's
re ferri ng con~ta11tl.f, vv·11ile p1-,r rur111i11 g~ Lo lii .,

g :1.111ilf ,, 111

1 . ltt~

rnl es of time, hanno11y, force, etc., which he find s lai<l 1lom1
in his musical grammar. They ouj ('et to the use of gralll111:Ll'S in acquiring any art, whether of poetry, oratory, oe
mu sic, because, they say, such stt1<ly makes only still' a11d
awkward performers.

20

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

OF TllE UTIL IT Y OF rrnETOHI C.

This view is extremely superficial and partial. It is so
far true, indeed, that a conscious observance of rules in composing will impede the free oi)eration of the mind; w ill make
the proceeding mcchanic:il, and hence, awkward and li feless.
But it by n o means follows from this, that when the rul e hns,
by study and application, become a princi ple in th e min<1,
ruling it _un consciously, as is the case with the expert artist,
in all its free action, th e proceeding will be less free, living,
graceful, than it would have been without study, and, of
course, iu ig norance, or at Imp-hazard. On the contrary, a l~
proceeding iu art is perfect only in proportion to the intelligence of the a rtist; and it is the law of the human spirit
that it learn slowly, by degrees, and from withou t. Principles of art are uot innate. They spring up only on observation or study. How mnch more ratiohal it is to r eceive
by stur1y th e generalized facts of all perfect procee<1ing in
a rt with proper illustrntions from models, tl1 an to work them
out, ns does the savnge so far as he iloes it, by nn aiclcd
ohservation a nd r efl ection, it is not necessary to labor in
demonstrating.
The whol e m atter may be exhibited in few worcls. All
a rt, wh ether poetry, oratory, music, or painting, as a ration:il
procedure, must be in accordance with cert:iin principles. Tt
must, further, proceed in intelligence -in in telligent conformity to those prin ciples, eith er consciously or uncon sciously
apprehend ed . These principl es can better be acquired when
r educed to a scientifi c form, tlmt is, to a fo rm adapted to the
uml erst:rnc1ing, than otl1 envi se. Thus intell ectually apprehenc1ed, as rulco prcscrihccl from without. they become, by
continued application or in exercise, directing an d animating
pr in cip ies. exn tinc: rrn 1HH'on<cinw; cnn trnl. Wh :i t i-, rlrn<'lc:·-

Tho other class rej ect prncti cc in acquirin g an art, because,
:is r egulated step by step by a r eference to rul es, it is neccss:1rily imperfect au cl awkward, and because practice merely
for practice must be mechanical :ind spiri tless. They \\'Ou ld
master, in tellectually, the principles perfectly, an d th en hope
rllr a perfect proceeding in compli ance with them. 'Yhilc
th e former class made ::irt iudepeudent of intelligence, th ese
111 a ke it irn1e penc1 ent of all trainin g of the crcatiYe po\rers.
They occupy, consequently, the opposite extreme.
Tli c tru th lies be tween . I t is a hw of the hurn :rn spirit
t h:i.t its hi ghes t degree of free spontanco 11 s ac ti on cn11 be atl:1i11cd 011ly by previous subj ection to rnl c; nllll, gc11 e r<1lly,
the severer the bl>or in the obserY:incc of this principle, the
f'recr will b e the play of the creating spirit.

~ ·

ll01<AT., Ep. ad Pison.

These rul es, of old discovered, not devised,
Are Nature still, but Nature methodizecl.

PorE, Essa.y on C1·it.

~ 1 3. Th e kno1Yledge of the natmc and prin cipl es
of' tlic art of rhetoric is attain ed chiefly in t\1·0 ways;
11 :1mely, by the study of rh etori cal systems, and by the
~ tmly of models in eloqu ence.

The great use of systems of rh etoric, ns of other arts, is
'" faci li ~1te the ac<inisition of the prin ciples of th e a rt hy a
!llii_·I". 1 ~ii'.; .1 1 1H/i,:;i\ a ll d p:u·ticuLu_
· ( · \11 1h i 1i 111r 1d' tlt \'111. ~11~·!1
sys tc rns present the r es ults or the in vcstig:itions, tl1c ex pprir·1wr. :inrl thr~ nl1 ~:i ·r v:i f- lnri~ nf 1 n~n~ n1 i11r! ~ .

'i' !: f'. n iihf..-: n!

n111~i1· In :ill ]e;1r11< ·rs ed. tl1:l1 :id i ~ :11- ( 1 111· 11 j1 1· 1·-

c1T at tirst. mere nwchanic:il :ipplir:itinn. brrnmrc; in thi" '>Y:1v
eventually
~ lllu't free. the most sp irited. the most truly
a rt.1 st.1c creat.inn. 'l'liA pnPtry nf <.:iodhe m1r1 of Coleridge

,., i,·,- d :rnrl :1pprr.r i:1tcll.

is not less perfect, certainly, t.cc:H1.>e tlit:y >1ere intellectual
rn:ioterR of th<' prinrip]P, of pnP try.

·r111~ 1,:i.::dy uf' 11~ t;tkJ- !.";
:rnf.
Ti i:"
i· ~:lcticab l c F_:;r thf' li•1rn :1 n mind fn oht:1 in a l' l P:11· :111rl f>nn il-

u..

I

Natura fi cret laud abile carmen an arte
Qurositmn est. Ego n ee studium sine di\·itc Ycn:t
Nee rude quid posset video ingcn ium . Altcriu s sic
Altera poscit opem res et conjurat amice.

·r:1 rnii1 :1r;:: (11'

!'-:·n :n c.;01Tec!.

::-:ystc:n1s

~\ 'i11t il:tr t11ili1 .1 111 '·' 1,µ '"'I" • I· ,]

i1! nil t!11~ :1r!s.

22

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

iar knowledge of any art without illustrations and exemplifications. This g reat means of training the ancients denomin ated imitation. In the use of this means, much caution is
necessary.
In the first place, discretion and sound judgment are requisite in the selection of models. An immature taste is liable
to be pleased with false beauties and excellences. A corrupt taste will select a model that abo unds in the fa ults
which it loves, and thus confirm rather than correct itself'.
D ecipit exemplar vitiis imitabile. The onl y safe guide is t he
estaqlished opinion of men of taste and sound J"uclo-ment.
. sentence in regard tob many
I ' lie world has pronounced its
writers and speakers. This general and united decision it is
ever safer to follow than the erratic judgment of an individual. A s says Coleridge : "Presume those to be the best,
the r ep uta tion of which has been matured into fame by the
consent of ages. For wisdom always has a fin al majority,
if not by conviction, yet by acquiescence."
In the next place, caution is necessary in the actual study
of even good models. A perfectly faultless model is nowhere to be found. The best poets and the best orators
have shone only in particular excellences. As in N ature
perfect beauty is to be found in no one thing, but our con~
ception of it is to be gain ed only by selection, by combining the particular excellences that are to be found in different
objects of the same class, excluding the imperfection s of
each, in order to obtain a perfect ideal; so in literature and
oratory, as in every art, an irlea of what is perfect in every
feat ure, is to be gained only by the study of various products. ' Vhile, acconlingly, the best moclels are to be selected
for study, even these should be studied onl y for their characteristic excellences. Nothing can be more injurious to
the taste or to the creative fac ulty of in vention than servilely
to copy any on e model, however excellent. Such ser vile imitation will, for the most part, catch up onl y tl1e fau lts, while
it will fail to reach the virtues of the model, and at the

O F TH E CTl l.I TY OF P.llETO f:I C.

:, .)
- ·>

~ :1111 P.

tim e pro,·e fatal to :111 th at ori ginali ty whi ch is tl1 e lilt'
art.
l t is the proper fun ction of a s_p;lem of rh <.: lo ric to )'Oi 11t
0 11 t the Lest models iu the several prope rties of good di scourse.

,,f '-''·cry

§ 14. Every art as a d eveloping art mnst rely
rn:1inly on judicious exer cise as tl1 e m eans of at ta inin g
ils e nd.
N o kuowl cdge of principles, however thorough, no stwl y
111° 111 u<lels, however extend ed, will m:tke a 11 :1 di st '' i I l1011t

I

•

<'X<!re1se. Irnleecl, there is a possibility of cul tirnli11 g ll1 u
j11clgmcnt :wcl the taste to a n excess as cnmp:t rL·il wi1l 1 il1 e
no:at.i ve power, so as to impede rather tl ia 11 to ai cl the 1·\1·rI i"n of it. A highly refi1 iecl taste will be ofl(•rl( lcrl :11 1cl di -;' .. l'ted with the imperfect products ot' a frt: Ll c i11n: nti' '' :11 "l
1·011 structive power; and th e work of composi 11 g 111ay lie
11 1:1de thus a const:in tly cli sa.grce~dile :trnl rcpu lsi vc mn k
Tl1i s is experienced by nearly all who h:11 e nc·gk<?tc·1l tl1'-'
:i rt of writing or speakin g till th e t:i ste has hrr,n mr. r-011s icl<' l':t!Jl y developed and cultivated. Th ey llncl thc1rn'el\(;s u11:1lde, in writing or speakin g, to reach the st:rnclanl that thei1·
r('l i11 ed taste requ ires them to atta in , arnl they :.ire rel'clkr l
:i1 11 l <lisheartened. It is only when the cre,1tive l'O\H'r i:;
d• ·n:loped in some proportion to the taste, that tl1 ere can h'-'
1l 1a t inspiration which fires th o trne nrtist, and m:ikes th e
o•\t' l' tion of his power his highest plc:i sure anr1 tleli gl1t.
T l1i s tloveloprnent of the creative facul ty Llepenlls on exo r1·1<1• . .A s with the muscles of t.h e borly, so wit h the fae ul tic·s
,.r lit e 111ill(l, notl1i11g lrn t exe rcise can im pa.r t Yigor ,incl
.1rr·11'.!llt. E xe rcise is the p:Ecnt of skill :111.J po11 er C \ .CT.Y " lic·ru, :111<1 11 owl1 ere more tha n in \\Titing anrl spC'ak i11g.
T h<' wo rcl s of Cicero shoulcl be print-eel in f':l pi lals n 11 tho
111i 11d of' every :;trnk11t of eloqm"nce, - sTrL us orn~ rr s ET
1· 1: .ES TA NT JSSL\ I US D I C ENDT EFFEC T O n

A C J\L\ C: TSTEH .

'

, it.;•"1''1;

\\)

;;.!

24

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

§ 15.
ficial,

Exercise in rhetoric, in orde r to b e m os t b e nemust be intelligent, systematic, critical, and

111 11 -I I"' .-rillc1 il ; i11 11tl1c r w o rd s, mu s t be s ubj ec t e d to
1111• i1 1" J' l'l'li<> 11 of a tl.':whc r o r of tlw p e rlvrm c r !tim-

abundant.

§

1?.

.,, 11', f'·1r the p 11q1osc of" !'L' lllll Ying fault s and r e taining
· 111:il iti l's tltat arc goo d.

I NTE LLIGENT exe r c ise implies that writing and

spe akmg b e pursue d in accordance with the kn own
rul es and principles of rh e toric.

Till ! JlrOp1 •r lim e of criti cis m is after the p e r fo rm :rnce is
ti11i, l1 l.'ll . To write ur to sp e:-tk with :-t con sta11t rcfo rc nce tu
l·1il i1·i ., 111 at th e t.ime , is to impose ou tl1 e mirnl a tluul1l c lahur
(I J' <1r·c1 1paLio11 , su lhat 11e ithe1· part of Lhc wrJrk ca n be d1lll e
11·1·! !. S uch s nb scqu c nt c riticis m is sl1 uwn tu be 11 eccs,ary
:it 1111 <..:L! liy ll1 c co11 :;iLler:tt illl1 , lli: tt otl1 e r11·isc it c:u11 1ul Ji.,,
k11 u w11 wl1 ethc r the wurk lias i1rocce<ll'd :i.right or in a cr·orilIt al so
:i:wc 1vith tltc prin ciples th:-it slwu1<1 r cgu!:it c it.
[f rl':1il_1' helps to .!:'.i1·c tl: c pri 11c-ipl 1' c :-: c11q 1\iii 1'd i11 :Ii,· L'\1 ':"·: ":
; t. i1ra.t·. l.ic:t.I, co11trnlli11g 1'..\i.-.. f.1 • n1 :t"~ in tl1t'. 111i11«L

Little will be accomplished by blind practice in any a rt.

A m an may s hout a nd cry, may strain his voice e ver so
much and make little progress toward becominrr a rrood
..
~
~
mu s1c1an or a good sp eaker. The practice must be· pursued
wl.th a cle:r, conscious knowledge of what. the art requires.
And h ere is seen th e n ecessit.v of systems of rl1Ptori<' _ t ri cr' t
. :-.
fort. h in a conve nient form t.o the learne1· th r: n I..·A.rc~-"J'"
~-':! ..+
~
1J llll ~
ciplcs of th e art; to teach him wha t he is to d-o in it.·
~.·

\'

17. s~ - · y::;TF~f ATl (.

~f'L'l'iiic l'1111 di 1J11 s

l ' \:CTC'i:=::c

inqJ iics

j,

]'C:f._(al'd

j.11

§ 1;1.

! 1,,~

d11ti<' s of' tlll' 11ril1 ·i · " 1· ·'l''·:1k,·:·
te1ke11 unc },)' one s11 rcc·-< ,i1 ·, .fy in rc~ular urJ c r.

~re , ~L J.lU'un; u t tillh:;.s, va.riuus cornbinations. 'LJ?c art of
music thn~ Pmbraces the se~rc;·al fr1nctinn~ .-,f n1t1'11 r-;1 nn
force; ~nd each. of these particular fun c tion s ~~;~ -be--;~·n~
alyzed mto ~'~r10~s st~borclin ate particulars. A thoroug h
com:se of trarnrng m this art must proceed by a r egula r, s uccess ive stu:ly of each of these particulars, accompanied by a
correspon cltng e xerc ise of the voice in them. Ther e a re
thu s a great di ve rsity o f acts requi site in the production of
a good discourse. Th ese pa rticular acts may be severally
con.tern plated by the mselves; they may be expl a ined as to
the1~· n ature, a~d be prep ared for exercise singly and success1~~ly. This syste ma tic exercise upon particulars is as
reqms1tc and as useful iu rheluric as in music.
Exercise, further, m orde r tn

be

muot usefol,

Once m nr •", .' Li ll in 1i hc·r1•r i•' (' ~n11 "t J, .. :iti:1in··d

:-;1 ·•·111 L.1' 11 11 wlt ('l111ti11 1w d t'r:ll' I ic'"

()J"

No il!n stration

L1c;ry arL cuuilii11..,,; witl1i11 it,elf a r omp li C':ition nf n 1:1111 ·
p:L!"l-! (_:ulat' act -:.; , rd' \\-lti1 ·l1 ill il n' ('X-r•r(· i~(· uf Llit'. ; i.!'f. t.J 11 , 1., 1

§ 18.

25

111: Till: l "TILJTY (IF mn:n J1:1c .

pr inri plr.

It

i~ re qui ~ lt e

rn~:-

to

~110 ~.v

th "

rnrn· ~·!!! "c:Q ~d '

\ii · \\T i t i 11 .~· .c.:.li(1 1il d 11(li lw p !! r.-:; 11 t ·il . . 1) ( ' r,1 1" ': t ltil.\ : 1~
11i: 1l.1 it
a drudgery ) n\vaken illg no intel'('St· a11d .in~pir.ing ll ( l ~ntllu s i­
~i:;in.
l~lid c r pi.·opc r li1.u~t J. U t1} .i ::; . cT\:ill i.=; •.1\...p Liid \ 11 ~ O !i t : ~.;. ._ rci sc. Gmulcnt sudoribus a'l'les. Tlte ge 11cral a1 ·e r ~ iun tu
"composition exercises," so far at le ast as it is n ot a La.re
form of indol ence, is chiefl y on·in g to the fa ulty mode of prescribing such exercises withou t a ny intlication to th e pupil
of wh a t he is to d o, except in th e m e re gen e ra l re qui sition
to furni sh a "composition," aml before any t r:-iining in the
specifi c processes of di scourse. That th e recom se by earnest
students of di scourse to r eading, in eon sc r1ue nce of thi s ave rsion to wri t ing , is wh olly a mi s take, is clc:-ir, fr om tli e r e it e rated tes timony of one who h :ul cultiYa lcrl thi s a r t 11·ith the
grea test d evotion, J ean Paul Bicht c r , who says : .. \' ery
ofte n hav e I said lhat a ll h enrin~ :rncl · r eading d oes not.
h:d f c( 1 1n w·l1 st1·1·11:; tlwn nr rJ,·] i_:,;-lir r/1 ,· 111i :i•l "' \\T11111~· :t111 l
! 1 1

11
'

thi:-i

hr' rr rn:1 rk r· d l1 ro rr . l1 m1· r1·(· r . 1! 1:11 1!11· l:il1"r

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~

20. Drsr:nTTRRi<:,

the cornmu11ic.aLiu11 uC Ll1uu;Il1 L,

1 · r 1:i1 : 1~ ·.v ::-ind
- :1
~pcak,.1·, \1· ]1 " i11 ,;p1· :1ki11 g ""''k-; Ill l 'r".!ll<T :t n ·r t:1i11
cffrd in tl1 c' mind of the ]lC'arcr.
TJ 1j, eJF·<'i i-; p r i111 a 1· ily in tl1c i11 t< ·lli .t..;•'Jl<'1' .,r· 11 11d 1 1st :1wli11c;· oi' t Ji,, l](':tn T : :ind :-:c1·u n1l:rri ly :111'1 ""11'""]11 1·11t ialh- i11 1!1 " li·1·li11g-; :111d tlrc 1\ill.

in1 plir•s

1n·r.·c'''-':trily·,

r1t o r11·c ;1rnl

cullq 1ldc :-:i g 11i !ic:1i i11n,

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1111: -;l'IYllL L.1 II Ill' () 1: .I l"l:Y.
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28

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

prounouns, "we,"" our," etc. It is otherwise in public prayer;
it is otherwise, also, with the essayist. The essayist merely
expresses or utters forth, without the controlling idea of a
listener, thoughts or sentiments which he regards as common
to himself and the reader. The distinct personali ty being
dropped, the use of the plural becomes easy and natural.
Hence, probably, the "we" of editors and critics. They
express not individual but common convictions and seHtimeuts.

§ 23. Of the derived species of Discourse, and more
immedi atelv subordinate to Oratory, a variety is distinguishaLle ~·hich drops from Oratory only the idea of a
present hearer. It is Epistolary Composition.
As it differs from proper Oratory only in the circumstance that it addresses an absent mind, Epistolary
Composition conforms more closely than oth er derived
species to the principles of Rhetoric. Its chief peculiarity lies in its not contemplating vocal delivery.
It will be remarked that while epistolary composition
more frequently respects a single mind, proper oratory respects more commonly a multitude. At least, oratory ri ses
to its 11ig hest perfe ction when addressed to a large assembly;
for then the moral elevation, which is the proper soul of
oratory, is highest. But epistolary composition , when addressed to multitudes, rises to high degrees of eloquence; as
is seen in the epistles of the Apostle Paul.
"'\Vhen th e epi stolary form is adopted for the form's sake,
it then falls into th e rank of mere R epresentative Discomse.

§ 24. The two leading forms of discourse, coordinate
with Oratory and differing from that in the circumstance that th ey <lrop th e idea of a mind addressed as
the ruling idea in the representation of thought, are
Poetry and R epresentative IJiscourse. In Poetry, the
encl of the discourse is not characteristically to affect

OF

I~! SCOUI : SE

A~ D

IT S Kl '\ ll S.

an oth er mind, but to express the id ea in it s most pcr[e ct furrn and for the sak i.: uf tl1 c forn1. ln 1t q ir c sc 11 t:1tive Discourse, even the form becomes suhorJi11 :1te, a s
well as the effe ct on anoth er mind ; and th e id L' a is
prese nted for its own sa ke.

§ 25. \Ve have, thus, the characteristics of the three
great divisions of Discourse : Oratory r epresents for the sake of the effect on another mind ;
R epresentative Discourse r epresents for th e sake of
the theme itself;
Poetry r epresents for the sake of the form .
In Oratory, accordingly, the exterior aim mie s; 111
R epresentative Discourse, the matter; in Poetry, th e
form.
The intimacy and relationship between these sen ral forms
of representation in language are in this view clearl y imlieated. The intrinsic dependence of the form on the rn:i ttc r ,
the common attributes uf the miml tlia L ::tLlcl rcsscs a rnl of the
mind that is addressed, and their common rel:t tionsliip to
truth as the matter of discourse, show at once how large :i
fi eld is common to all these arts. P a rticularl y, is it seen
how slight are the modifications of t11e prin cipl es of propL' r
oratory which an art of representati ve iliscourse requires.
I11deer1, as already obser ved, these modificrttions arc, i11 tli c
main, sueh as cannot well be se t forth in t1isti11 ct forms uf
language.
The g reat truth that trndcrli es this whole matte r is tha t in
all di scourse, as, indeed, in every proper movement of rn :m's
spirit, hi s wh ole nature, as intelligent, feeling, willing, - logical, res the tic, and ethical or moral , - is co11CL'l'll e(l. H e
uever utterly sinks or lays aside his feeling or mora l 11 :1t urc
wh en he thinks; much less does he drop his i11 tclligc 11t nature when he fee ls or wills. In other wonls, his th ought is

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30

OF D ISCOUBS E A ND IT S Kl:\JI S.

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

ever penetrated by sentiment and purpose ; as his sentim ents
and purposes are ever in intelligence. B ut one or another
of these depa rtmen ts of mind may be, relatively, more or
less prominent; one may so predominate as to cast the others
into the sl.iatle. As the intellectual element prevails, man
appea rs as philosopher; as the msthetic, he is recogni zed as
poet ; and as the etl1ical, he becomes a u orator. Or, to present the same truth in the terms of the proper matter of
discourse, - idea, which is ever the proper content of all discourse, may be presented in itself irrespectively .o f all outward relations ; it is, then, the True; and where that rul es
we have proper representative discourse. But idea may be
presented as in outward relation, yet without distinct respect
to any special end or object, simply as idea expressed, idea
form ed, and then it becomes the B eautiful or proper Form,
and when that rules we have poetical discourse. And, still
furth er, idea may be presented as in movement toward some
outward obj ect or end ; then it becomes the Good in the
larger sense, that i8, the Moral; and w llen that rules we
have proper oratory contemplating an end, an· effect in
another mind.
I nasmuch as the moral in man involves and presupposes
feeling and intelligence, this view of the distinctive characteristics and relations of the different forms of discourse corroborates the position before taken that oratory is the highest
form of discourse. In oratory the whole man, in tellectual,
xstl1etie, :ind moral, moves predominantly and characteristicall y ontwa rcl a nd to an end. It is, therefore, more distinctively moral in its proper nature. In a higher sense than in
re~pec t to the poet or the philosoph er, the rnaxim so emphatically recogn ized by the ancient rhetoricians holds of the
orator, that he must be a good man in order to his highest
success.
Th e <1uestion has been much agitated whether oratory is
to be regarded as a proper :csthetic art. It has been raised
aml discussed in the light of what must be deemed to be a

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narrow and dcfcct i\·e clas:< ifi cat ion of the :1rf,; . T lti' (' Lt " ili <.; aLiou recog 11i zc .~ tw o <.; l:1s'"'' 011 u 11f 11 lt i!' lt i' .J ,. 11t11 11i11;1t<-'1
Il1 u class of tlt u ./ l·:s!l1 d ic, Free, ] ,i\1('r: il , Fi111·, .. r l·:J...::::1nt
a rt s ; the other, tl1a t ol' tl1 u ~'\ler.:l1:w i r· : tl or l ;,.·f1 1\ :irf,;. T l1i .,
classifi catio n exch11lus e1·cry thinl cl:tss ; a11 d 1 1 c 1·1~ ." it:1 t1 · s 1lt c:
rc0ection of oratory from the a rts, u11lt-ss it be either a fr ee;
a rt, like poetry a nd painting, or. rn echa nic:il , like c:1rpc11 try
or agricul ture. Dr. Ca mpbell , howe\'er, accepting as tl1c
proper distinction of the two classes, that " use is tl1 c dircd
allll avowed purpose " in the useful arto, "w hcrc:1s it is more
latently and indirectly" so in th e elegant arts, con siders eloquence with architecture "as of a mi xed 11:i turc, wl1erei11
utility and beauty have alm ost 0(1nal i11 fl uc11 cc ." T lw s11u1 .. ·e
of the confusion and error is iu oppo,; i11g Lc:i uty a:11 I 11 1il it_1-,
as if in necessary co JJtr~vli ct i o n to each other. J\11d tu attain
the truth in the matter, 1\'C l1 ave 01 tl y t<J :lj> ply th u 111.:::i":il
principle of strict contratlictory oppositin11. \\ \, m:1y 1l111 s
classify all arts in reference to beauty :i s th osc~ i11 1rl1ich it is
free, and those in which it is not fr ee, that is. tlt u.' e i11 wl1ich
it is dependent or subser vient to ai1 oth cr cnil tk1n ml'ru form.
Discourse must be recogni zed, u mler this cl:ts.silie:cLio11, as
charac teri stically free in poetry; but as depcml eut in ur:1tory, as also in all representatirn di scourse. Bu t as pnc try
itself may modify its freedom when it enlists in the sc n·ice
of philosophy, as we find to be tl1 e case in tl1 at spPcics of
poetry call ed Dicbctic, so oratory and phi losophical discourse
may, as in the loftier fligh ts of eloquent or imag inative di scourse, ri se to the ms thetic freedom of true poctr)'· In a
true sense, howeve r, trne oratory is e1·er :Psth1"tic in its ch:i racter, as has Leon alrea1ly imli cat.o<l ; for it expresses :11111
proceeds from an :csthctic nature; effects its c ntl , aJ.,,,_ i11 it s
addresses to another like a'stltetie n:iturc ; :u11l as Ihe 1· pry
essence of oratorical art consists in the emliu1l ime11t of lho11glit
in lang ua ge, in other words, of i1lca in for 1n , or:1 to ry rn11 st
be accepted as a trne ~est li e ti c procetlme. nl1 dori1-, lik e
architecture, is something more than a d<:co rati rn :1 rt which

32

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

OF D!SCOCl1$E AX D IT S Kl\ ! 1;> .

adds orna ment to something that is not of itself ::esthetic, or
tha t may be perfectly adap ted to its encl without. being in
taste. lt is of its uwn natu re a11Ll essc11 tially an :csLhetic
art, although not lying in the departmen t of fr ee beauty.
Oratory must be beautifu l in its form in order to its ve ry
perfection. Th is c:umot be said of a tool, a machine, a pr0Ll11ct of any mccha11ical or any merely mcfol art. Oratory,
th ere fore, c::u mot in any trntlt be cl:isscll :unong the mccliauical a rts.

moments of solitucle, :rncl liorl ying fort h it s1; Jf in s_1111 \,,,] ,
which :ire the 11e:ucs t JlO'·"ihle reprl'Oi« nt:tti on·< of tlH" 1·s :wl
shape in wl1ich it exists in tl1e pocfs llli1111. Llorp1c·1wp is
feeling pour ing itself forth t.o ot1 1cr mi11rl s, cum ting thL' ir sy 111pathy, or ern.lcaYoring to inf111 e11cc their hl'li c;f, or 11101 e t.lic111
to passion or to action ." A cco nli11g ly it is 01 il y i11 l•:ll"lial
truth that we can say " mere verse is poetry ; " as we can
onl y iu par tial truth say "an icliot is a man," since r ertso11 ,
which the idiot lacks, is the esse11ti:1I attrilrnte of man. So,
on the other hand, it is onl y in partial tru th tl1 a t we ca n say
"the peculiar poetic spirit without the proper poetic form
makes disconrse poet ry ." It is only as m :) m:1y ca ll a cfoc111boclied spirit a man ; it has the essential nature, not the f<1rrn.
As a human spirit and a hn m:rn bo1ly n11 itc in our co 11ccption of a man, so the poetic spirit and the poetic; fo rm 111 11.st
uni te in any just conception of poetry.

§ 26. POETRY is th at kind of discourse rn ·wh ich th e
idea is expressed for th e sake of the form. It is on e
of th e arts of Free B e:inty.
Th e special L aw of Poetry is, accordingly, that the
selection and treatm e n t of the idea t o be expressed, of
the im:ige ry , a nd like wi se of the di cti on, a ll b e go ve rn e d by the prin cipl e of Form or B ca nty .
Thi s is the proper L:iw of poetical COlll[IOsitio n. Iii the
different species there is a<11n issible in different degrees the
depression of this as the relatively predominant principle,
and th e elevation of the principle of exterior aim or effect,
so tha t it approximates so far to proper oratory. B ut it is
ever thi s characteristic that makes discourse poetica l, - that
it more or less drops the principle of exterior aim and devi ates from the method imposed by snch foreign aim in order
to be led by the principle of form.
The control of this principle, as has just been remarked,
re:iches to the idea expressed. as well as to the exteri or emLuclimc11t of it ia im:1gery and dictio1t. Poetry has au irn:cr
essence of its own, a prope r ~ pirit a ucl life, as well ai; a proper
body. "Verse," it has been justly_ obser ved , " is not synonymous with poetry, but is the incarnation of it; and prose
may be emotive -poetic:il, but never poetry." Both m ny express feeling. But "eloquence supposes an audience ; the
pe('.n li:i.rity of poP.t.ry li es in the poet's 11tt.<'1' 1111 <'mrncio n snes~
of a listener. Poetry is feeling confess ing it.self to itself in

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§ 27. Differ ent kinds of poetical composition may bl~
distin g uish ed on t wo differen t leading prin ciples of
division, accordin g as w e regard th e chara cter of th e
subj ect or th e pa rti c ul a r m ode or m eans of r e prcse nt ~t­
tion, - the r epresen ted idea or th e fo rm r ep rese n t in g.
Dist rihut.ed in r eferen ce to t h e subj ect or idea r e presente d, as the three species a re tru th, sen tim en t, and
action, w e h ave the gen eri c division of P oetry in to
I. DIDACTIC ; II. L1mc ; III. EPw nllll DiullfATIC.
Dicbctic Poetry includes what is som etim es call ed
the D escriptive , the l 'ast oral, the :::latirical, and tlt c
like.
L v ric Poetry inclu d es rlin'rs s11lin nli11:1tv f'" rn 1s ,i1·
poetical composition, vari ously moclificcl, nn d ki w1111
unde r th e famili ar n a mes of th e Od e , th e P s:1lm , ~ nrl
the Hymn, implyin g r epresentation in m usic, :rn d :il so
the Sonnet and th e El egy.
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OF DlSCOUl{SF, AND IT S Kl :\llS .

THE ART OF DISCOURSE.

is called a Dialogue. Th e Dialogues of l'bto, of Fn11tenellc, of Berkeley, are exc111plilieatio11 s of thi s 1:ui ely .

The third class embraces the two leading forms of
the Epic, in which the representation is by m eans
of narration and description, and the Dramati c, in
which the representation is by means of proper action
and scenery which take the place of narration and description in the Epic. Subordinate divisions of these
leading species are of the Epic into the Heroic and the
Burlesque or Mock-heroic, and of the Dramatic into
Tragedy and Comedy.

§ 28. REPRESEN TATIVE D1scoumrn, so far as it diverges from proper oratory in dropping the opposition
of speaker aml h earer, has for its special law the representation of its theme for its own sake.
All H c prcscntatin~ Discour:;c, as sucli, according!)",
has ti ir its cout.rollin;; principle the fol luwi11;.;, name ly : That the thoug ht be r epresented ia its uLmust clcarn cc<s ., acuiral'y, :iml <·11mplctc11 l' ,' S.
~ :2\J. J{ep resc11t:1ti1·e Disc onrsc 1-; eith er 1'1·1 : 1,: 11r
l\Ir:-.:1n.
It is JJW"r? ,,Jirn its thrrne is rq 1n'sc11ter1 i1 T•''[ '"' 'ti1·cl.v of persnn:il rnoditications, a1Jd, :tl'C111·di11,'..'.l .1·, in ih
O\\·n l'l'l'j" ' I' <'l1 arackr.
It is mixed when it is rcprcscntcJ as m,,JiJ! ,:d Lv
the peculiarities of personal apprehensions and convi~­
Livn~.

The Epicurean, by Moore, is an exemplification of the
mixed form of representative discourse, in which but one
rni11<1 i~ i II tro1_lnccr1 hy whose p0rsonal 0haraNP 1 · i ~ 1j "q the
n:1 rC ..,i!Jd:ti i(1 11 i..: J11 lii: _·1l. ..'.\..i1l'i t.: 11t lifL~ is ill it r t ·1 1n·., 1·t; l1_1_L
through th e experience of another, not from the dirncl. o11s1~r­
\'aliv11s vf lire :rnlltur.
-nr11ere two or more persons are introduced, the discourse
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§ 30. Th e special Law of Mixed 11cprcsc 11t:iti1·e
Discom se is, that the personal cl1aractcri stics of th e
speakers introduced, so far as modifying th e th em e, be
carefully exhibited throughout the r eprese ntation.
The Dialogues of Plato are the most perfectly coustructe<l
specimens of the Di alogue, perhaps, tliat exist, so far as this
first law of the di scourse is rega rd ed.
If the representation l>e for the s:ike of the form, th e <li scourse becomes Poetry. \Ve have, then, the "J!ono1u.r;11r,
when bu t one person is in troduced; a11d th e poetic JJi111,,;J'""
when more tl1an one arc exhibited. 1f tlit• rq11-c sc11u1iu11
exhibits an aciioa, it bccum•cs Dn1111 1t1'.-.
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~ 31. Of tl1e l'11re f:<'Jll \''"11l:tli1'L' I )i,•'•llll''>', 111·,,
general dasses, cad1 c111Liraci11g s1i!H1nli1 1:1k Y:1ri1'li t·,,
are distin~ui s h ecl acconling to tl1c cl1ar;wl L· r l>f" tl11~ '.' 111JjL'<·t.
\\"e l1a1·L~ tliu,; : I. H1<rn1:\-, tl1c 'ttl:i•' Ct t1f 11·11i1'!t j , '"Ill <' f'. wt •ir
e\"C'l1t, s i11 gl · · •ll" ( ' UJ1tilllt<>ll3, i11 Jt:t l'll"<' , :I-' ."\'. 1!1!1 '•!/ 11:s1
f ll i'//· Or :1Jllllll'..'. llll'll, a:; llid"i'// ! 1'"/'' 1·.
l'11 1l•,' r l l i,,1 1•1·1·
j, i1wlwJ,,i[ /Jiu,r/1·u 11u;, Lli1• ,;11l~j1'<'t "r 11·!1icli i,, Ll',' h i11
111t!i1·i1!1 1:tl t'X ["'1·i c·1wc; :111.J 'J.',· ,"·,I,. 11 !1i1 !1 j , l.11 1 :t
more spcciiic Llcpartmc11 t ui' Liu:..: raphL 11:1 \' i!t'...'.· facts ui'
a spccitie characte r in indi\·idn:il cxpcric11c c for its
Sll l_~j,:-' ct .

II. Su E:\TI Fie T1n~ . 1n:"1-:~, i11cludin~ the I>' 1Y 01·
D1SSERT1\TJON, the snhjr:ct of which is some truth, not
m e re fact, as is the case in Hi story.
It i.'

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r1 · J1l;l1·L1 ·d

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~i11 ·1·rt1 1~ 111,

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Discourse, th:tt it easily admits tile proper tfo1i11;.:;uislii1Jg
characteristic of pure oratory- the oppo, ition uf "l"-':1ker
and hearer. Just so fur as it docs this, til e f1iii form vf

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OF lll Sl'i) l'I: SE AK I> IT S

OF DISCOUHSE.

oratory appears ; so far, a t least, as address to a locally
absent mind will allow. It is not unnatural, thus, that the
hi storian b egins his history as a n addressing mind, and uses
th e forms of address. Thus Macaulay begins hi s histor r :
" I propose to write the hi story of England." As, ho wever,
the idea of representing the facts of hi story for their own
sake and not for the sak e of the moral effect on other minds
begins to rul e in hi s mind, the oratorical form s, as those of
th e fir st person, of time instead of space, fall away, and
the discourse approaches to the character of the pure repr esentative.

§ 32. PROPER ORATORICAL D1scOURSE may be distributed into different kinds on either of two different
principles, giving rise thus to two distinct sets or
classes.
On e principle of distribution is found in the specific
character of the ultimate end of di scourse.
Th e other is found in the specific character of the
immediate end of discourse.
§ 33. Oratorical Discourse may be distributed, in
respect to its ultimate end, into two departments, according as that end lies wholly in the mind addressed
or beyond it; in other words, according as the final
obj ect of the discourse is attained in the effect produ ced on the mind addressed or only in some ulteri or
oLjed through such ellect.
In proper pulpit discourse, thus, the preach er seek s, as hi s
final aud controlling end, the personal character of hi s h earer,
looking to nothing beyond as more controlling and predominanr. In fon' 11 o; ir nr:irnn·. r•n th1• <'»l ll1':1r,1·. till' :td1<><':111 ·
seeks to influence the juclgc ouly that h e may secure a favorable rl eterrnin :Hion throngh him of somf' intAr Ast. of hi•
client. He pl eads not to en lighten or con vince the judge as
his ulterior motive; but to win his case through the decision
of the judge.

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The fields of oratory arc not m a rk c1l olT by '"'r,Y i],.fi11ik
bonmbries 011 thi ~ priu cij>le of di s tr ihuti u11. ]~111 "" l1:11 c
de partme nts of eloquence 1rhi.J1 ~trc 1·c ry C< )n1·r· ni1·1ith· ,\i~ ­
tinguish ed from one a nothe r by thi s cli:1r:1ct c ri stic, (II' tll\·
em! of the di scourse lyi ng wholly withi11 or heyo1 1<l tlw cll;·ct
on the mirnl ad\lressctl.
In the first department, in which tl1 c final ol.j cct of the
di sco urse is fonnd in the mi1~c1 mldressed, th e lc:11li ng h r:i11ch
is tl1at of Sacred Oratory, the ul ti rnatr; e nd of \Yhich is the
highest moral or religious clerntiou :iucl impron:mc nt of
the h ear er.
H ere, a lso, li es all that Plo'/osoplu'col or Dir {(/('t;'c; OJ'({to ry,
whi ch seeks to cDli g h te n o r in str11ct the lil':m •r, l'llllir: 1ci 11g
tl1 e Lecture, the Scientific Di sco urse, :11111 tl1c lil; c.
Herc, too, li es that rl cpartmcnt cb ,se1l by th e '1nci"11ts :l s
one of the three lc:1 tli11g hr:l1l cl1 es of or:tlor.1·. 1·:ill1•cl lhe
D emoDstrative or EpicleicLic, c mhr:ici 11g th e l 1a11c,C'.yri<: ur
Eulogy, the object in \rhieh is to a1raken the se ntiment of
approbation or of censmc in th e h earer.
H ere, moreover, lies all tl1at oratory so common in moclcrn
tim es, the obj ect of wl1ich is s pecially J\Ior:il H cfor m.
Jn th e second d ep'11tment, cha r actc riz ccl by its Cll(1 lying
b eyond the h ear er and to b e att::iincd through him, arc. promin e ntly, the two gre:it <l cpartm e 11ts of sr;c1 1l:i1· eln'l 11 cncr, tl1c
J11diri'rtl arnl tl ie Dd/f,, • rul/r~. T11 hc_·. ,1;rr; .r r1·1>111 c·:tcl1 1dl1r·r
in re ~ p c ct lo the go1·er11i 1ig i1k:1, :tllil :il ,;o in n ·- p•: ct lo tl1e
field proper to th om. Ju1lic.:ial or:ltury bas ll1 c idea uf tl1e
right for its go>ern in g ide:i, :rnd its clii t:f prorincc is in th e
proccc1lings of civil judic:tturc. Dcliber:1tire o ra to ry ha:; Ll1 e
J;]c;;i of t.l1 e go o1l , tlic..: useful, tlt c C.':pc1li c11t, fur it .; g cJ\' crn11:,:;;
it1c~l. and is cli ~ c !ly fon 11..cl in lc:. .:: i ~ !~l t i\ L~ :1·::-:c 1::! .1 1i l· .;.
~ J'.I.. Di sco ur~c , di s tribut<' d in r c i ~· rl·n cc tn the ' i'""
cific ciiRr11rt 0r nf its imnwrl i:1tc <'1111. Pnmp 1.,· J1,.11<l< tl1n

fom kinds of E :1pl1111atm·y, C!onjinn atnr!J 0r .LL:r;11m , i1lativc, Po.tlietic, and Persua sive Discornw .
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38

THE ART OF DISCOUI:SE.

The principle of distribution here is the specific effect to
be produced by discourse in the mind of the hearer. It is
the same principle that determines the mode of discussion in
any particular discourse, and will be more fully exhibited~;n
the sequel.
CHAPTER V.
OF THE Dln'ARTJIIENTS OF RHETORIC.

§ 35. RHETORIC, as the Art of constructing Discourse, embraces two processes which are in many respects distinct from each oth er. The one con sists in
the provision of the thought variously m odified as it
may be by fe eling and the moral state in its proper
form, and is found e d more immediately on Logic. Tlie
other consists chiefly in the provision of th e :ippropriate langmige, and rests mainly Oll Gram111:1r as its
fuumlation.
The two great departments of the art of rhetoric,
accon1ingl~~, are I NYF.NTIO:i" anrl Srn.F..
111 m:my of die lllo:;t popular ll'caLi:;cs on rLdoric ill U1·~
English language, the first of these processes, i1wcntion, has
been almost entirely excluded from view. Several c:cnses
may be assigned for this deviation from the uniform method
of the ancient rhetoricians. The most important one \ronld
seem to be the neglect into which logic has fallen ; or, perhap.§ more exactly, the cause is to be found in the hi therto
immature and unsettled views of modern writers in this science.
Another cause is the ch:cnge that has taken place in logical science since the tim es of the Grecian and Homan rl1ctoricians, which renders their systems of rhetorical invention,
founded as they were, to a gre:tt extent, on their p cc 11li :t r lu,:.:·ical views, inapplicable to present modes of thought. Th eir
system of topics is thus, for this and other reasons, 1vl10lly
unsuited to our times.

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OF Ti ll : IJEl'Al!T:llJ·:'.\TS OF l:llET1.1J:H'.

The art of invention, moreover, is more essentially modifi ed than style by the particular department of oratory or
the kind of discourse to which it is applied. Hence the
ancient systems of invention which were constructed in strict
r eference to the modes of speaking then prevalent,' are illadap ted to present use. The systems of Cicero and Q uintilian, for example, a re for the most part illustrated from the
peculiar practice of the Roman bar. l\Iodern writers on
rhetoric, in following the g reat ancient masters in the art,
have hence been reduced to this alternative, - either of
leaving out entirely this part! of the science, or of constructing au entirely ne w system. They have, for the most part,
in the English language at least, decided on the former
branch of the alternative, and have generally excluded almos't entirely from their works the consideration of invention .
The pe rversion and abuse of ancie nt s,ystems in the
schools of th e m illdle ages have undoubtedly furthe r co nt r ibu ted to bring this branch of rhetori cal science in to di srepute an d neglect.
It can not, however, be doubted, on a candid collSirl cr:ition
of the matter, that invc 11 tio1 1 mn st constitnw the 1·cr,1' liJ',, "'.
an art of rl1 etoric. lt respects tli c o;onl :illll s11 hsl:111c1· «i' ili .scmtrse - the t.!iouglit \vl:iclt i;; commuuic:l.l.t·:d. Oute oi' th1.;
rnn;;t eminent ot' :1ncic111: rl1\'!nrici:111'. (/11i 1:1ili :111 . .ili>i l.1 >:t .1-..;,
" flll' l'l//rc Jll'i°l!llll/I . fir// FoT r !l.J·: l'i:X Cll 'I I 11.' '
c\1 1i\ lilt('
n f' tl11: 1t1n ' t 1·111i111·1tt "'' 11111·k· r11 or:tt"r'- \\.1·IJ>l •I'. 1.. tJ1,.

Lw g ht mu st 11ecess:1rily 1Jl1 r1•g:1nlc1l :1 s a drnd!.!l'l',Y :u11l he
sh111111<'ll i11.,ti11t:li1 .. :ly 11·ith sl1 «>1 1.!.!· :1n•r.;i1<11. l i. i..; "Jlt,.t·11i'e
wltc u the lh u11g!tt io tltc u1aiu tl1i11 g n :g:1rlkd . TJi .. rc is tG
every miml :1 pure :r111l 1"11 ~ \'alcd pk:1s11rc in i1 1n:nfi11g.
There is a pleasure iu cx prcss iug t.ho11ghts t.11::.t han: sprn 11 g
into being from Ollc's OW II cn·ative iu te lli:ct; of' i:llll1odyi11g
them in appropriate form s of' l:wg 11:1gc. Iluw tlilll-ri:ut :ll'C
the feeli ngs with wl1iclr a scl 1oollioy coukrnplatcs the task
of writing a composition which must cont:1i11 ;;o m:rny >rnn ls,
whatever be tru e of the ideas, and the 'rnrk of 11rili11g :t
letter to communicate some co n viction of hi s ow n miucl,
som e wish, some intelligence ! It c:innot be (jlIC'stion e<l that
it is to the exclusion of invention from our sys tems of rh etoric that the neglect into which the :irt has fa] !1-; 11 is ch icily
to be a scribed. The prejudi ces :ig:r in st i t :ire :tl so rn:<i11ly
to be attributed to this defective and incorrect Yicw of tl1e
art.*

:-:-11:11:" ~D~·-·~ rc1!!;1.rk~ : •· ~ \l\ t.ru n povd_'l' i11 \'>Til-iH.::: i ..; i ll tli e
id 1 ·~. not

i11 tlic ct.1·],.: - :111 !'\Tor i11to 11·lii•·li lite rrrs r/1, !"1·i'cu . a~ it is u .otta!!.1· Ltu:..:ltt. ill:t r c:r sil.1· lc:ul .slrou:..:·c:r h .. ad.;
than mine." l tis in invention that the mind of the lcal'l!er is
n1n ~ t e;1 f.; i1y int.('l'( ·c..:fl·il nnil tnn:d - c;1prihln of :--:n11sihl1' i 1n111·11\-'Prnc:ut. It is UC.\.L Lu irnpu.;c;iblc Lu awakc11 a ltcart.1· intc:1·1::d.
in m ere style imlepe mlent of the thou!.!ht. as the l'ui.iJ,., ~·i' ·
tempts to teach the a rt of compositio n as a mere thing of
verbal expression have provetl. Composing when thus

" It is worthy of note !hat the most popular system 0f rh etori c now in
use in the English language, that of Dr. \Vhat cly, owes rn·:i.rly all it..:.: t·x. ccllenrc nnd its reputation as an ori g i11;1\ work to tlic eir~·u111..:t:111c1• t!1:-it
jt

embraces, in th e First Part, a brief and iinpc1fcct

t111: a rr.

\' i f!W tii' tli i~

l1ra1H;h

or

OF THE NA.Te rm AND P.-\RTS OF 1::-;\T::-;Tl\l\" .

--

FIRS11 GENERAL DIYISION.

INVENTION.
--+-

GENERAL VIEW.
CHAPTER I.
OF THE NAT URE AND PARTS OF INVENTION.

§ 36. RHETOllICAL I NyEN TION is th e art of supplying
the r equi site thou g h t in kind a nd form for di scourse .
§ 37. It emb races Invention Proper or th e m er e
su pply of the thoug ht, and Arrangement or Disposition.
The propriety of regarding A rrangement as a part of the
process of invention ancl not as a department of rhetoric,
coorclin:itc with Invention nnrl St.yle, may be seen from
several poin ts uf 1i.::1r.
I n the tir-:t i•l :1r·p, thn prineiple of L1ivi~iou th~tt has bee n
nrl opt rrl. lw whirh rllPtoric is I'f'!Tfl rdP<l as em hrnci11g t.111~ t.wu
(• l1 ·rnP.i1ts of iuceut/c,n ur the supply uf tl l\JU'.)1t, :l11d "f st:;le
or tl1r· r·xprt·"sim1 nf tl1r 1n'_'.l1t i11 l:1t1.>.::tt :1.'.'.<'. at. 01t1 ·r· cr111111c·lo;
t o thi f: treatmPnt of arran!Tement. The twu elements of
thon!Tht anrl vr>.rh::i l expression are both essential ekmeut:.;,
::inrl arr thr rinlv elPnH'nto . of 1li<M11l'f:P.. It. wou ld be unphil0,11p l1i"~il to i1;tronnrr> n11lltlw r 1· 1·i11riplc of 1livi'i"11, 1;l1ir ·lt
\\"uulll Le; uecc.<: :::<l.l' Y i11 ul'd(·r ! 1J :td 111it
iqr1 <~r· :1rr:111~1·­
m0nt no rt 1liRti11cl. cllmd.iL11tellL part of the art of rhetoric.

.

..
I ·•

Again, the process of iu vent ion ca nn ot prOC'<'•'<l li ttl \1y
order or metltorl; :u tr.l t!t e ve ry SLIJ•pl y of t.lt< , tlt »tt.:;111 tt llH
th erefor e i1tclu<lc a more or less ddi tti le n ·;;:i rd ''' t\11 ,
arrangement. It beco mes JJL'ccssa.ry, tlt11 s, to tr1·:1L "\" arra11ge meut or disposition, so fa r :is it call he di sti1t el ly Lrt:all-tl
of, as a subor dinate a11d const.ituc1tt part of iHvcntion.
Th e same observations, ob1· iously, :tre app licable to 111ethutl
in style.

§ 38. The process of invention is :tppli e cl eitl1cr to
the ge neral them e of th e discourse, or to the particlllar
thoughts by m ean s of which that ge n eral th eme is presented to the mind addressed fo r th e purpose of acco mp lishing the obj ect of the di scourse.

§ 39. The ge n er al th e m e of discourse is som e ti m es
g ive n or furni sh ed in a m ore or less d e finit e fo rm to
th e speaker or write r ; so m etim es is wholly left to l1i s
fr ee ch oice.
In the eloquence of tl1c har anrl of th e sc nat r, tit" 1,, 1,;, ..,
of disc ussion are <ldcrn1i11c1l b cfo rrli~nd fr1r tli 1• 11l•hl [':irt
Lo the sl'c:iker. Lien lier«, l1 1l11c11·t·. tl11"1":: j, 11111,·11 1·,,,, 1t1
for t,lte exercii;e of i11 ve1t lio1J. Ti t" p:trticul~1r theme pr 11 l'oscd
is tu LL: l:tkc·11 1t11 i1itu th•.'. 111i11•.l uf tltc: 'I"" kn : i1 i, '" J,,.
s\1 :1petl to liis !tal1il <>C tl11111'.,'.·i1t: ir j, Ir• J,,. d•·li11•,] :l':d ,/, . 1.
rnirH•d '.'n :i~ hr:.:::r r,-i n1.-·C' f Iii..: p :triii ·1d: 1l' l 111r
11 1 1.1: :•_
!".
1
it; it. i,c.: to hL' :--11il(·d f(_) llH: jJ: ll'Licu L1r circuu1.< ; 111cL~ : 11 \\Li ··'~
l11c ~1Jl:'1kti auc1 lo Ll1u 11 111111., i1 1 wl1ir·lt Iii· ,.d1:1I\ dt•l1·n 11 i 11 ,, ,,-,
h:rndlr· it. '1"11<> cc:11111· •1111· .-ti •11t \\ ill t!t11:; lJCc 'i:it"d 111 \• t \
1, _\ - 1_\

di!li·rr•11t fnnn ' h.\· di!l~ ' l'! 'J il '!

k(

: t i:il 1111 ,! , .. ' ] ,1 1

,

ul" uratorica.l skill is vfLe11 di opla_vctl in Ute mod(: of "" 111 .,.j,·_
i11_c;· a11d !'l"l"."'C'lt ii11." tlie p:tl"l icul: tr "tl•.i•·•·i ui" ,J, 1i: i 1" . T it,.
~l:t lll e U0Sel'V:1t.i011S :11'P, ::1pplirnhlr>: tn 1'\ ' P!'~\7 >;;~\f-'f 'i f"~ nf 11i ·-: {_'( 1ti r .. . r• ! i r l ' )l Jl j 11 , .... i l i Pl! \\ 1w rt: r l 1l • .... 1ii'.i 1'( · 1 i..: l)!'•) ! 1.._. ,, t ! , ) 1J 1, ~
1

J-./H·:1L 1 1·

{11'

11

\\Tii1·1·.

0

\Vh•.! re the subjcc.t is left to th e fr c(: l-·h11ic,-· 11f' :Li : :-. 111

: 1!,1 · 1·.

Ck2£±E!jf=

-

-

'"

.

·-.

--'-'

--'-

·'· .

~~=~

~""' .~

/ - '"

·~~ -----<•- .

-~~-=-::;i:;._il-.£'- ~-~

'"

.

,,
H
ti11 t't '. I ' r"1Jrn fc1r :1 :;till hi.c:h1"r rfr:rh> nf im-rnrin· f"J '.'.'•·r'.
I t 1 ~ 'Sith t.'1 0. nr:ltnr nr \\'rit0r as with rh(l; ~ 1 ·11111 1 111· 111·
p:ti111'"1" 'J'J,., c;11hj1·ct i1 , ,.11· ,11"'rn tl1c .l!• ·11iw; "r 1!11 : :tn i, 1.
'J'li·· <1 11
i-: l1·h -1 111 .::.; fn· i ' t <i :L co11 ....:i dt r: tld(; t·~\t1 lJ l i1 1 tli (·
cl 1n 1ttcll ct· uf tlH _· 111il1 1i 1. :t" \Y1·ll a.; 111 11:11 . . . 1 (\\T: t"i11 11:d ail -

~­
t

'

]!)]!:-'.

C IL\ l'TI:I: l l.

~JU. Tli ... 1-':trt ic uhr c, 11l1<1rdi11:l1c' t L11u'-'.l1t' Ii\· \1·lii('l1

the c:cnc ral theme is dcYclripccl :rncl p!'e<c·n tc·d tn the

111i11 ~l addrcs" c cl, while t11 r'.\' !llust all li ,~ i11 th' !i L·ld ul'
t lie L°:''ncrnl theme, rrncl rnuc;t likc1Yio;1• r·"1isi:;t 11 itli tlte

ohje ~'.t, of the discourse , are, with the;;e limitations, open
to the cl1oicc uf tli._. s1ieah·r.
As a ration:il di.,c1rn1·.-u 11 L·cc·ssaril.r i1nplic.s :i 1111i1.1·. tliis
1111it1· nrnst be i11 tl1u c;i11.~J..111·,;;; of tl1e t.l1t·1111• :t11d <>f il1e ulijeet of di::;cour:;•· · A""'11·.li11gly all tli1111gl1b i11trucllll'<_'l l J\lt1'L
stn nd in a sul11 _1 nli11al-t_'. r1_·Ltt.iua Lu tl1i .~ -~i11~: l 1· 1\1 (·\ 1\1'. :ttHI~ :11.. . 1 ) ~

t11 Ll1is si11de u!Jjl'cl.

_! k11<' <' the prilll·i11l<' , 11 l1i"l1 :11l111its
nn ox«<,ption in. raliuu:tl dis•".111rse, tl1:1L 11n 1l11l11_>elw; 111_'
trrnl1w('r[ that do nnt both euusist with !lw tlwm e :11111 111"
j<'ct. and alEo kml to dewlop the oue :twl acevmpli.,11

11f

111ohcl1e

other.

\Vliile thus tl1c s 11ho nl i 11:tl1 ~ :11 1111lc n ·l1111 i11 .c:· tl1<i11!_'.l1h 11111st
al I be found in the lielLl of LI 1e one geueral the: me, allll u r
these onl.r such caa be Ltl< .. 11 '"' co11si,;t wi1l1 tit" 111.j1-cL «f
th e d iscour se, wiL!tia the:;e limits there io free raug·~ l'ur i1tyrntio11.
Tlw. 1'11llrw.;<; Rllil ri <.:l rn css or these sid11inll11:1tc:
thouo::·hts will di;;pl:ty the ricl111ess of ll Holllal fttrnium' pus " "'"''d l>y thl' s p,.:rk t> r. tli1· 1·1nitrnl Jin l1:1s <>\Tl' this stllck "f'
th 1J1 1"·ht, :1rnl 1l1t• kr1ili11· !_'.1·11t·r:1lh· nf li i..; f:11·1ilti" ·' ol' 1111·111 tion."' Th e scleclinn (Jllf 11f tl1is st~wk 1\·ill r:-'11ihit thr: smmd 1ir•ss ~nrl prompt.n oss of his _iu rl.ymcnt and the power he hrls
of st.e R.rlily pursni11g his object.

~

Jl.

Tttt: lll'fl l'L'>;; 1>! '

ill\'l'll1i l' ll

:h

:q1 )1! lt '\ l \t1 t il l'

gt 'l ll'l':t] t!1ctlll' ut' dicTll ll l'"l' l'llll:-'i;;Li !II !Ill' , .. ic•r ti"ti 111'
tlic tlicrnc :lllll i11 tlic rkrcrJ11i11:tti1ill (Ir tit,· 1·:11 i l('ll l:ir

in

f\irn1

I\

li ic lt it. i.; t1J Le di,cu<,c·1l.

g 11l:tr and 11111

]'l 11r:tl tcr111 -

:t

'" .. 11 11; 1!11 ·111 •· .. is i11dic·:t1c:d tit<' 111

" ,11 11<!'

It ;-:t;i _' lll:..; l(l li1J r1l1 ·r i Jll ~tli --nrd i:\­
tln 1Jti'S iJC ;1 di:--(· 111 tr .---< ' . l>i_. . 1·, 11it
:t1 1 l 1:1l' il;\
h,; 1i:tJ J,'lj OltL' wl 1i i'J1 11:1." 11\UI< ' lli:tll llll<' ,'. : ' lll '1';il tlwriH -·.
'_l'}1c 1111 i1y uf :t di ~ (·1, 1i r~1 · , i 11 ,,·)1i 1·l1. i1 1il 1·1·il 1
Ji' "' its Yl'l'_I' lii't '. n ·11n i1-. ·,; tl 1:1( tl11·r1· lie lint 1n1t · !1 11H1 ·~ l 11 t•1

s i1 1,:. :,·!c11c:·.; ,-.; in t!tc tltc11Jt;.

spi·:tk of
\\·itJi j>WI

ti1

wl1i"l1
itift'l'I\·

ti ll'

t'\'l'I'\'

1

ulhcr sli:rll

I"'

,;11!.11rdi11:1t" :111>1 "1l' ' "i'I i. ·111

l'urliid _-.; th e i11lr11d1w t iq11 of' t\\-u ur

l ll,1l't '

c~ y... r 1 li 11

1: ··

t I 11111:.:I11,;.
!11 [[Iii ,c;i11[! ](']ll•<.;S 11f tilt' thl'llH; Ji1 •,; t!11' Ji1· .; t :1111[ l11'<1.·1rl1•,t
111 ·i111·i11l u 1.i· 111Jil\-. _\.s 11i ll l ie ·\.J1 :liit .. d i11 1]11· ]'l "I" 1·
pla1_·,,. tl11· Ul'<>:tcl<:r n11it_1· il l·tr·n11i11 .. .J li.1- tl 1<· ,; i11:.:I• ,,,.,, 1.J 1!11 ·
tlicmr: 1Yill 111: n:t1Tll\\t'1l 11_1· till' 1i:11·1ic11l:1r 1.l1_j11·1 i11 1lw ,Jj,_
e1t.>sinn. ;1ml c;till !'11 r1l 1v1· lff t!1" 111'<t1'I''' J,y 11 l1i"li ti"' <Ji, et 1:-:~i on i .. .: ('{)J\1!uc11 ·1l.
~

·1:2.

Tlic~ prin<"ijill's

'\\ l1il'lt l'l''..'·1il:1l r· 111 i< 11rr '' "

regard either the rnincl of the speaker ''
Of,

Tn nr1l 1·r to 11\·oi1l :lll

th0 -o:rN·ifii · t1·r111~,
;t i't1· r, t'\·t·n wlll'n

.i

1111 n1 ·<·1· ....: ..: :1ry

m11 l t i 1 ·l i··:~ t i• > ll

\\'riii ' r' ' :i n •l " ·'T••·:1k pr."

1\1 0 ;_:·i"·:i1 ·ri('

tliru11 :.!:h the 11cn nr tlir• y0Jci· 1

nr.ti 11 11 111'

rnc:u1t.

th. ·

liim ~e l l~

,,( 1\
\Y ill 11rd :11 :1r il_'] H' L ·1; n

il l

tlie

I] ' • '

i> f

I

-i··

46

lNVENTION.

occasion of speaking, the mind addressed, or th e object
of the disoourse.
§ 43. In selecting his theme and determining the
particular view to be taken of it, the writer has n eed
to con sult his own mind chiefly in r eference to the
capabilities of supplying th e particular thoughts and
illu strations by mean s of which his subj ect is to be presented and develope<l.
I

I

'

No on e, in proper disco urse, writes m erely with a vi ew to
an effe ct on himself. S om etim es, inueed, the p en may IJe
empl oyed in inyes tigation. Such compo,itions, however , are
n ot proper di scou rse, which always more or less definitely or
d irectly r espects ano th er mind. The wri ter, ther ef9_'.'e, will
n eed c1·er to select a theme on which h e is competent to
wri te, r espec tin g which h e has ample inform ation a nd m ean s
of illu str:it ion withi n hi s po\ver.
It is, ncy erth cJc:;s, a g reat mi stak e, alth oug h a common
one, to suppose th at a subj ect very familiar a nd at the s:ime
time very compreh ensive, is m ost favo r able to ease of execution. In ventio n is an origin atin g, cr eati ve p rocess in its
essential n ature. A s such it is the most proper :rnrl delightful work of a rati onal b eing,. a nd whe uever it is pursued,
im pn rt"" a pl ea$ 11re whi"h it.s1..Jf fi res :-u1 1-<w t.h e e1wrgy nf f.h,.
in ventive faculty . This is th e inspi ration of o ri g in a l gc11i11s
- the r :ipture that nece~";ui l y atle 11 cl~ Ll1'2 pr0cbcc:0n d ' "'~ ""
th o twh t~ :rn c1 form~ of tl1on"ht. \Vlwnc1·<'r n f:11ni li n1-. nml,
Oi l. t~e <:{Ille time . rt hff•:l•_l· rtlld <'C>lllr11'<'h •-· JFiY f' t hr•rn,-· h
S1 · ) 1·i· j ('1 !_ 1 \~ j\l'( ' i : iJ J .\ if' t lH· Ji 111i 1_-.. ( lf' !\H· ( 'llll l l)\ )"ili1 1J1 lH ' l l : tl'l'U\V , 01tiy g •-:H<::r;_tl, J~t.Hti ij <-lr vie \V ,~ C-;_tn b'=" t.;-1- k 1~ n, ii-H•J t.11'.:.·r i:; j~
nn l ifP nf in vP 11 tirrn . Tt io fl r nlrl . in nnim nt1> w0 rk nf th f>
nw mriry r r·.ea llin g rk·:-1rl 1.l1 n11g ht.. Tlw.r1• i.c: 11r1 in"1• ir;d.in n,
n o sa tisfaction.
Th ere mnst · be some n ew vie w tak en.
su m d hiug uri gi ual, or tlw wurk uf im·cHLi ua rn ust n ucc:;:;ari l v [,e b l.iv riv us a11 d l1ca.vv. -"'uw i t i;; B!1ccili c: views li1 a t
fu;.ui sh the occasion of original invention. In them the

OF Tl!E G F ::-iF l! A L Tl[l-:.1 11·: O F ,\

JlJ :-;C< 1l ' l : S1·:.

·II

1n ile r ~l111 11 s tl1e g1•11 cr: tl cu1111no npl:tce no liun :; th;t t :tre
f:11 n ili :i r to all. Tl1 c 11 1ure siwcili c: :rntl 1ldi11it", thl·n: li1ri· ,
th e th e me, the ea sier 11 ill lie th u wo rk uf in 1·l·11li o1 1. l':wti11 11
o nl y is n ecessary th:it the fi cltl of Yi e w i.Je 11o t too limi t<"d
fo r th e writer 's p o wer of in ve n tio n, since on ly t he must
Yi go ro us a nd prac ti ced writer can tak e the most m iun te am!
p:i rtie ular vie ws.
Y o un g write rs sh ould b e on their g ua rd again st wl1 at arc
call ed " f ertile subjects." They arc ge nerally mit:wor:tl,l c t.o
the exe rcise of in vention, a wl, there fore, mos t <1itlk1tl t to
lt:inrll e, b ecause they are so compr ch ensi,·e t hat o nly gcue r:tl
a nd commonp lace views can be tak en.
It m ay IJe prop er h er e to put youug wri ters on t he ir g n:ml,
a lso, in selecting them es, aga in st sp ecious mottoes o r t it le ~ .
The dress o f lau g nage in 1r h ich the th eme is i111 1·.-tt;d . i.'l
n ot the th em e itself. The on e m a.y IJe ri ch ru 1t1 go rg1· u 11 .~,
whil e th e other is miseraiJl y le:in aml t1ry. I t rn·cd li:mlly
be sairl that th e fac ility w ith which th e work nf i111• ·1 lf i<> 11
will proceec'! , will rlcp c 11d on the ri chrn•ss of th e t \1,, 11ght
itself w hich co nstit utes th e the me, 11ot ,_, 11 the g:u·l 1 it. 11 i: 1.y
ch ~lll" <' t0 " ·rn r .

§ 44. A proper regard to the o cca s1011 of speaking
will determin e t he proc<ess uf in ve 11 t iu11 11 ut onh· in rd~
e rc nce to tlie cltar:tclt~ r of the tl1 e 111 e tu ],l, ~t: l lT l ic t l,
lmt al '.o, in r,Jc:ft_tllt: l' Lu the: blitu1k :t ' 1•: l·ll :t-; ! '" :·t ;,._
nbr fil' ld nf , .iL•.11· t li :1t i-; 1:tkc·1 1, :111 .l 1Ji ,. ill 11-t 1:11i.,11,
tl 1at <ll'•' 1u liL· J'r•'' 1·11k.J .
~ 1.-, . '1'1 1.'1 ·.' i~ () 1 ~ \ : 1.·11...;1 } : l'. L! · \i. 1 , ~·; :1 i: \ · ( --> it \ " i 11·
u J1t::mlti1t!!: th e ch:1racter of th e amii cncc, ili e e : d c nt
1

<ii ' tl1L·ir i1il: •rn1:iti1>11, tl 1C'il' 11 ·r· 1il i: 11· l1 :1 !•itc , ,1 · t!i " w:I:'

t.lt eil' fe1: li11 g::; also , and t11 c ir relati ons t o th e spe a ke r.
There is p e rh a ps no po int t11 wl1i ch Ci t·ero's l11 11 d:1rn1·11t:1 I
rule in r egard to all d ioe1•11r.oc, t lt a t it cun .,i.; L 11i:l1 p1up1· i, :.r
- " ill cleccat " - ha s g rea te r fo rce of :1 ['plic:1t iu11 than li 1·1-i.:.

-

,·-·

OF THE GENERAL TH EM E OF A DISCOU RSE.

48

INVENTION.

,.

be either a ne1Y or modified concc pri,,n . ,,r :1 ucw or modifi ed judgment. H ence the two forms of address to the understanding.

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 anywhere else.
'
i•

§ 46. Th e character of the theme and the parti cular v iew tha t is tak en of it, as well as the general m ode
of developing it, will also be affecte d by the particular
object which the write r may wish to accomp lish in liis
disco urse .
It is assumed that all proper discourse has an object. A
spc<iker does not speak without an end in view. Tliis end
or object lies in the mind addressed, and consists in some "
change to be effected there by the discourse.
Dr. \Vhately, indeed, enumerates some snecies of what
he calls "spm:ious oratory," as where one s1;eaks merely to
seem to say something, when there is in fact nothing to be
said ; or to occupy time ; or for mere display of eloquence.
The very name, however, "spurious oratory," indicates that
all true di scourse must have an object or encl to be accomplished by the communication of thought to another mind.
W e must seek, therefore, in the mind addressed the determination of the particular possible ohjer.ts of rlis"011r•e.
~ 4 7. \Vii ile Ll1e ul Li mate euJ uf all lli~ cuurse part a kes more or less of a moral or ethical character, the
irnnw r]i;1te nhjr'r'ts tliron~h whi r h this nltim~t0 011 1] i~
JT:t'-' l ll'd 11J:11· liL· i1t tl1c uiH lcrst:rndi1w, tltc· 1; .,.J i11"' 111·
the will of the per sons add ressed.
"·
,.., '

§ 48. Tli e pn~' ihl (' immcffot c n11jcrts of ~ll rrnpcr
discuur::;e are Lu t four in number, viz: Ex1' LANATION,
CONFIRMATION, EX CI TATION, and PERSUASION.
A change produced by discourse in the understanding may

.!!)

•'

§ 49. The process by which a n e w conception is
produced, is by E xplanation ; th a t by. which a new
judg ment is produced is by Confirmation. A change
in the sensibilities is effected by t h e process of E~rcita­
tion; and in th e will, by tha t of P ersuasion.
These processes, it·will be observed, are named from the
positive species ; and the designations given embrace as well
them as their opposites. In expla ua tion, thus, we either produce a new conception, or correct or modi(y one alrcarly existing. Confirmation in cludes both t.l1e production of a new
opinion or judgment, :wd the re moval or moclilicatio n of
one already existing. So, likewise, excit:1tio n c111braccs the
awakening of a new fee ling, :rnd th e strcng tl1t,ni11g or allaying of a previous emotion or passion ; and in persuasion , we
either move to a new choice or dissuade from an existing intention or purp~se . -:

§ 50. The unity of a discoiirse is more narrowly dete rmined by the singleness of the object which is pursued
in the development of a th e me .
In order l9 unity, there must indeed be a single th eme or
subj ect of discourse. Singleness of theme will not, however,
of itself secure the highest uni ty. It is fnr ther ncce>'sary
that there be one leading object proposed to be etfocted, and
tl1at. t.his object be steadily pursued thronghout the discourse.

0 ;, I. Tl 1r• c;r·1·r ·r:tl J'i'"< ' <'' ''"; .,f' ' ' 'l'l:rn:1t irr11, r·rr1if :1·111:1tion, cxcit2ttion, a-nd pcrsn: t:---:inn , :i.:·c so n·l::~t ::! t;i t'.:t ( ·.h
oth e r that, while th ey may a ll con cur in the sa m e di scourse , they yc:t ca n l;JJlu\1· unh in one si11gL; urcLL
E x planati on precedes confirm ation, as th e trut h must
be unde r stood before it can Le b elie ved; explanation
4

~:

50

.-, t

D: V l~ NT IO N.

olij cct o r a im 1\·hi ch g in ·s 1li -. .,1 11 r.'c its l if1; ; :11 111 :1 -; no "1"'
th ing c:rn 11:1\'C h \ 'O li\'f '.S in it," lf, tl wr e r:111 h1" l>1 1t IJ ll C ai1 n
o r objec t in o ne di ;;cuurse. l t i;; 11 0(, i11 tl1 c n:itme nf 111:111
to labor with out :111 a im. CL· rt:ii nl y the 1ru rk o f i11 w 11 tiu 11 ,
th e bigl1 cs t ::incl m ost p ropl' r \\·o rk of m a n :1s a r a ti o11:1l beiJ1 g, cann ot p roceed h a ppil y w itho ut au a im 1l ist i1 1ctly :1pprcl1 crHlcJ. " The rn aiu r equ isite fo r t eacl1i11 g rn rn positiu11,"
says one of o ur m ost 1~pular a u tl1 ors, '' wh a teYcr pco l'l e
m ay think, is t o h ave someth ing 1r hi ch 011 e fe els i11tcrested
to say."
This th en is th e first thin g to be done in the co nstr uction
of cllsconrse, after th e selecti on of t he theme a t le:1'1, to cl L)t er m ine definitely wh at is tl1 e pa r ticular ol>jL'.d . of tl11) d isco urse : - is the obj ect to ex plain a th eme ; to co11 Yi11 r c of
its truth; to excite th e fe eling s iu r l'b tion to it ; o r to rn orn
i'n af"t.ion n p on it. ? This p ri1wipl1' r·:11111nt l1P I n n 1•:11·11 f's ll .v
inculcated, or too faithfully obse r ved.
A s these several acts of ex plan a tion , confirm ati on , cxr itation, an cl persurr sion m ay p roceed each by SC'V • ~ r : il di ,1 i11 d
sp ecific p rocesses, i t will of course fac ilita te i11 vc 11 tio11 to
d eter min e, previously to th e co 11 st rn ction of a tli scoursc, the
pa.rticub.r process which the ea rn m av r equire.

and co nfirmati on natnrall y precede excita ti o n, as th e
o l~j e ct of fo e li11 g mu s t b e pe r ce ivec l and ge n e rall y " b e
b elie ved to e xi st be fore fee lin g ca n be awak e n e d; and
p e r s uasion prop e rly follows th e oth e r three processes,
as in orde r t o a c han ge of will, th e fe e lings a r e gene ra ll y to b e a rou sed , th e judg m e nt co n v in ce d, a nd th e
1111clc r st:rn<lin g in fo rm e d . .
U ni ty r eq uires tha t this order ne ver be r eversed , ex cept
for th e purpose of awak enin g attention, o r di spos in g for e~no­
tion, a s will be m or e particul arly r emark ed h er ea fter.
~ 52. Tli e work of inve ntion c a n ne ve r proceed
with ease or su ccess unl ess unity is s trictly obse r ve d unl ess th e sing l e th e m e a nd th e sin g l e oq je c t of the
di sc om s e b e cle arly appre h e mlt•d, a nd t ha t oLj e<..:t Le
ste adily rrnd nnd e 1·iatin g ly pursued.

No prin ciple of i1ll'enti on is m ore fon darn en trrl or practi ..
cally impo rtnnt tlrnn thi s. U nity in aim is th e very lifo of
iuYcn t ion. U 1il css t he object of speak iug be c1 ist i11 cLly per ceived and that object be strictly on e, th e inve ntive faculty
ha s 11 0 foothol 1l at all, or, at least, no snre sta11di11 Q· : :11111 :ill
itR uperati oa s must be un steady an d fee bl e. Tli P- first. wo rk
:--1d 1.i1 ' ( ·1

\\ 11i1 · ] 1 t . . . 11

'.\· )1i 1·J1 i-::: fn

hr•

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ii i>(·11:-. -- j ·1 !.

: 1! 1i\

~ l 1; 11 1 i1 · r \ 11·

§ 53. Inasmuch

as the d e v e lopm e n t o f tli r gPn c ral
f "i :- th( ' r.:1 r~ i · ·1; ~- ; r
r . j · ! ~: ( ' rii ·<l"•ll l' 'C". tli 1· 1: 1111· 11]'(1(' C' ' ' " '- IJ\· 11111 · Ill' ,. 1/ 1· I ' , ,. ·.11 ,:,.1 ,
t l H' iTl f'

, t 11 · 1 , i

·!i i:ti111 ·r! hy ! ]H' d i ..:1 ·1 1 ~ · , ; 1 • ! 1.
1

1wrl 1:111<
l H· ~ :t i

:ti!

n 1inrl l 1 ~1 ~
! Jlf l ~~ t.

i!

t!1 (~ .-.: i 1 1 '. . '.· l 1~

11• 111

\i l l

c)l,_ ii· j·t. J; ,r \\ l1i 1·!1 t l1 ('Y ,, ·r i l 1" 1' \< '1·111

:1 -- 11 1· 1·1 \\· i 1l 1

l _·\~ · J1!...: \ \ ~i!t \ \ 1t!'< ! ...: .
11 r1 '- ] 1l' i 11·...!·

11 1·

\\ <f!'1I.-- ~- lfril li:111! i :· i i 11 1:1\

! l :l \

! 1 1 ~·

]! fl

( 1l 1j 1·1 · j i !I

\ i•· \ \. 11 11•

i1 ~!] 1ft] ~ i · i 1r 1!1 ' ' hl 1111' . :11 11/ 111(· 1: 1-- I-.: i--;

i!:·q ·! .1_:: • 1".\·.
\ \.! ::if (' ;( Jl ht" ll"!P )' 1 '-:1 ) i l1· 111 l ( I
l l \\ ~ ' ~
tl1 o n(!l1t. U1n.t. ,,·itli it •' 011 c li fi: ;111i1m1t r2-; them. a nct t o C<' m ront
t.l11 c11 1 1 -":~ · 1111 .. l._y 11 ... li1: ;.. " rn! .. , .. f ~ L l llEJICl f
l l j ~ il:i
tlH'

1'1 ' jl!1l '--i\ · f '

: 1( 'I _' 111J] l_Ll ~ l ~ I

1_ 1

' j~

......
=
- ..
Ill

~

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r ll' !l ' J'~ ll i n l ' d

1l1i :' u!i j,· c t: 11111, t J,, , :ll' C'1m q •/i, l1 ·,» I. 11: 1111 » 1.\ : 1]1" ' " 11 1' ('\1il :111atim1, c1>1il in11:1t i1111 , L' \ (' it:tfi,,11 , :1111! 111 ·1 ·:111:1,11 111 , 1·111 1,1it 11t c tli v di c;t inct cl cp a l'l lll L' ll h (II' 1: 111 tn :i ,.: t! l 11\r ·11 t ir111.

11 is 111 ·1·1·. " " ""' l i t:lll :11 1\' \\'ll('l'I' 1· !11·. lh :tt \' •11 111c:· 11·:-! 1. r . :
1:1il. ' l' !H •\ ' (!'i\ ' I' llwllhi•lv 1·.. .; fp \\-Titi 11!_!" \V illi Jj ! I il1 ·!i i1i!1• :q Jpre l1 r• n:-. in 11 (d.

T·-.:

1

l·

OF THE PARTS OF A DISCOU I! S E.

.J

_a•,.;:

CHAPTER III.

•
OF THE PARTS OF A DISCOURSE.

§ 57. THE D rscuSSIO N is that part of a di scourse in
which the subj ect is unfolded and directly presented to
the mind addressed for on e of the purposes tlia t ha\·e
been named.

§ 54. THE development of a theme of discomse for
the purpose of explanation, confirmation, exci~ati on,
and persuasion, necessarily proceeds by stages, which,
in r.Qferenee to the particular obj ect at the time, 111<t.Y
be distin guished from each other. A discourse may
t hus Le con veniently reganleJ as consititing of pa r b ;
some of whi ch are esse ntial t J all discourse and others
subsidi ary or essential onl y in parti cular cases.

§ 55. The essential parts of discourse are the

The discussion is

i!! :dI disT l1 <; /• l'u jHJ, iliu 11 '"'' f;Jrth
the desig n of the speaker; aucl tli c other l':u"Ls a. n ~ 11w rcl y
preparatory and subsidi a ry to tliis main desig n wlii d t is
directly pursued in the discussion.

PROP-

The term " proposition," it should be observed, is here
used in a sense· different fr om that of the term " theme."
The p roposition is the theme as determined by the obj ect
or end of the discourne. F or example, the theme, "the immulauili ty of t ru th," may be variously discussed in reference
to va rio us specific obj ects. The design of the di scussion
may be to expla'i n what is mea nt by the phrase ; or, it may
be to prove the statement that " tru th is immutable ; " or to
awaken confidence in all tru th as being in its na ture immut able; or to move to zealous effort to acquire truth because
immutable. A rhetorical proposition includes thus the theme
and the pa rticular design fo r which it is discussed.
One formal mode of stating the proposition in actual dis-

3-cco nlin .~ 1 .Y t1ie n1:-un t1 1! n.~

cou r se, and co11 ;;Li Lut.::s i t~ Ludy .

OSITION f\11 rl

the DIRC:TJSSION .
§ 56. T HE PRO P OSITION is the particular theme as
modified and determined by the obj ect of the discourse.

course would be as follows : " The object of tl1i s discourse is
to p rove the immu tability of truth."
A rh etorical proposition is carefully to be lli>ti ng11i•l1c•I
from a logical p roposition. The htte r m:1y be de ll11 .. <1 to he
" the verbal statement of a jndgme nt." A logical prol'osi:
ti on, accordingly, may constitute the theme of a rh eto ri c:d
propos ition. I f this theme be stated together \l·ith th e u,;c
to be made of it in discourse, it will then become a rhetorical proposition.

'

!1

·I'

'I

:I

§ 58. The general forms of the di :;c uso:i•:•n ar1• rL~­
t ermined by the ol:tlect of the di sc on rsr~ , rrnd a rp rn11 r
i n number, corresponding to the fo ur mai n obj ects that
may be aime 4t in discourse, § 48.
§ 59. The more specific form s of th e discussion are
determined by the particular processes in whi ch explanation, confirm ati on, excitation, and persuasion are
r espectively carri ed on.
§ 60. The subsidiary parts of discourse are either
preparatory or applicatory ; and may in general terms
be denominated THE I N TRODUCTION a nd T HE PERORAT lON .

i

J

\

~-'

§ 61. The desig n an d use of T H E INTIWDUCTlON is
to prepare the way in the mind addressed for th e more

ii:-~ ...,..,, ·--·

ii?"' ' .,..,,...~' ~
~~

INVENTION.

54

ready and free reception of the proposition and the
discussion.
§ 62. As it is obvious that the mind addressed may
··t· be favorably or unfavorably disposed for the reception
of the proposition and the discussion, either by reason
of the degree or kind of information it possesses, or its
state of opinion, of feeling, or of purpose, the introduction must, in different cases, be prepared in r efer e n ce
to these diverse states of mind.
The t\YO more generic kinds of introductio~1 will be,
accordingly, the Explanatory and the Conciliatory
. ,_

introduction.
In the former, the object of the introduction will b e
effected by informing m0re folly the minds of the hearer s ; in the latter, by removing prejudice or by enlisting
<lireclly Gt. fo.vvraLle interest.
It is obvious, moreover, that these states of mind may
r espectively regard different objects, as the speaker or the
subject itself. 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 reasons, its appro·
priate place under the several general heads of Invention.

§ 63. As the Introduction is only a subsidiary and
a preparatory part of a discourse, the topics which it
must e mbrace and th e form in which it should appear
cannot be fully known until tlrn nature and form of
the proposition and of tho discussion are w e ll ascerta.ined by the speaker. H ence, the proper time for th.e
in vention and the cornp"sition of tlie lntrudu ,·t 1"11 J~
after the subject has been thoroughly stnclied out, and
the aeneral form of the discussion well set.tied in the
0

mint!.

-~\
'\

It wonld obyi onsly he as alrsul'(I in a 11Til!'r t11 ,·,,11 , 1rnl'l
a n i11 tro11uetio11 J,c f'11n! 1111! j>l :lll o l' ill!.' di ., ,·11111·" · j , .J, ·lnrnincd up on, as it ll'u1il1l L<! i11 :1 11 :uTl1il1·ct l•) J>llt 11p" i" •rtico lJefore he h:ul <1 L:tl·rnti11c<l 11h:1.L ki11d ul' a 111111'<: to
att:tch to it. Tl1at Ll1is absurdity is freq11e11tly c:uu1111iLll'd in
writillg and in arcl1itcctnre, only sho11·s tl1e 11 eccssity of calliug particular attention to it. There is uo one feat ure of tl1c
intro1luction which may not receive its determinate c:hnr:tetcr from the proposition and the di scussion. The le11gt h,
t.ht" matter, including both the thought and the focli 11g, :1ml
tl1e style cannot be known till the plan of the di scussion is
fully determined upon.
Hy this it is uot meant that the di sc ussion shouh1 he 11ritten out or red ncell to furrus of language ; but merely tli:1t the
whole plan of the discussion be distirn:.:tly conccil"ed in the
mind before the introd uction is composed.
The necessity of tlrns first stud y ing out and aceuralcly
determining in the mind the plan of the di scussion before the
introduction is commenced, appears not ollly from the fact
that unless this be the case it is all a matter of mere acci<1c11t
whether there be any correspondence between it and Lhe Lo(ly
of the discourse, but also from th e coJJsideration t.liat it is
only thus that nuity, iu which lies all the life of inye11tiu11 as
well as of discourse, can be secured. Th e very id ea of a
cli scourse, as a produ ct of a rational mirnl tl1at ever k1 s an ai m
ill its proper workings, involves tl1c ueccssit.y of unity ; nm1
this unity appears in (]i scourse mainly in th e proposition a nd
th e di scussion as the essential parts. The clear perce ption
of what is needed to Le effeetell in tl1c m inrl addressed by
way of preparation, in on1er that thi s ai m of th e t1i sco urse
c: rn be attained in it, is absol ult'ly imli:;pens:thk• h1dh In
g ni f1c invention in constructing tl1 e in troductio n :i11tl to
, lir11 i ila tc jr :-;.o Lli:tl i i."' \\'(_)rl~ :--lLill Ii(· 1';1~y ;!lid :-- 11(·• 1· ~1·111.
~ G-1. THE PEJ:u1:ATHJX, ;is that p:irt of ;1 di."·rnirsc

in wliiC'lt th e them(' is ~pplicd, will Y~r'.- "ith the di!kru1t specific ol~jccts airned at in tl:L' :1 J'i'Ji .. :1ti.,11.

56

INVENTION.

Sometimes the application will be in the form of
explanation, either for the purpose of corre cting c1Toneous vi ews or for furth er instruction . Thi s form of
the peroration may be denominated the explanatorv.
Som etimes the obj ect of the peroration may be to
correct a wrong opinion, or to confirm a particular
truth involved in the general theme, in which case the
be confirm atory.
p erorati on
Som etimes the obj ect may be to address the subject
more directly to the feelings, which will give rise to the
excitatory or p atlietic peroration.
·
Or, once more, some action may be proposed, in the
peroration, to the mind addressed, and then the pei·S 1!(! .<h •'! p'.'roration will have place.
~ 6:.J . THE RECAPIT U L A TION is a form of peroration
common to the various obj ects mentioned. Th e r espectiv e processes of explanation, convi ction, excitation,
or of per suasion pursued in the discourse are, in this
form, concisely repeated for the purpose of a more foll
and complete effect.

PART !.-EXPLANATION.

'"ill

CHAPTER I.
GENERAL I NTRODU CTORY VIEW.

··~

~ 66. IN E xplanation, the obj ect of discourse 1s to
inf.,rm 0r imtrnd; in 0ther an d mo 1;c tec!rn ic:1 l w p1-. l':',
to lead to a new conception or noti on, or to modif y 0 11 c
alrc>a<ly existing in the mind.

§ 67. The work of expl anati on is accornpli sli cd
simply by Lringin g t he ol~j ec t of the con cq1Li.,1 1 111·
n oti on intelligibly and favorably before the mind :1ddressed.
§ 68. Alth out;h explanation, pro perly, i;;
in t r ll r_'c-hi :i l
!1

1

1·! \l: d ...: t :! t( ' . -.;ti l l

il111 ·ltl'1 'iJ
)" · J"1

j'(

) ]('L'

' " \ «l 11 d 1·d

jl llr< ·ly

:t

r r "'(' 0 ~<::, c:: in 00 jt 1!n1~ mr·~·0 l y t n r " ndnr•r l 11!''

],\· litl'
hl

;-\->

! llld\'!'..;i;1 \ I i

t i t\'

ti11~·

i1-..:1·/ j' j...; ir1-

>i :tk 11( 1] 11~'

!

1!1·1 1:\;' l-!ll l '!l l ...: 11) ' l1 1i11 1

t ll ('>\ '

fro 111

tli1.._'

1;.. ,· Ji1 1:_:-; 1111 1[

t• x1 il:111 :1torv di' t'1>t t l''•'.

j-.: Jl 11i

Tl1 1•

\\i ll,

\1,·l 1

1

1]]y

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·t i'" . l:<J11Tn •r, lo l.1 r 11111ln11 ·d 1111h· i1 1 "I rid <11!1111·, !i11:11

1:11 11

1

I" 1iH • d1 ·,i:c·11 ril' Ill\' ili<r ·11111·"'': 111: 11 i', r>1111' 1: 11· 111"

!" 1·1·" "1' 1,f . l: wili t:l1 i1 1'.': t li t• ]11" '''' '' ' "I' ''"]'l:t 11:1 1i .. 11. Tl1i'
i, il(q 1c· cltj1_.f-ly ')l' \\-l11_
dly l_1y :'1\1 ·ui·i11g ;in u 111!;< 11rl ., /
> c11liu11 to tlie uL.il'd pn· ~c1 1 kcl.

:1

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ilt :Jt jf1 1• l:r < l<~

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Ill

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58

EXPLANATION.

liy

,.;(•!!ll'1J('(: ()!' J>l'<l [)(L' ll !1>!l. .Al l L'l)l!('l'[>I S an·, i1 1d ... .. 1, .J .. l'r1n11.j1 11 l:.;111l'l 1t.-:, :1:1 d 1;111 11.lc'<1 11111111 th l· 111 : l111l tl 1...1·
di'<>[> l'rn1n 1·ie11· t.lic :1ll in11 :11io11 or de11i:1l 11·hiclt di..; ti11g11i ,.; l11·s
:ill j111lg 111 c11 ts. They co11 stitute a large part of th e 11u111 is
or ll: 1·111s nsc1l in di scourse. Bu t percoptiu11 s ant1 i11t11i li1 J11s
n •,.;e 111l 1lc co nce pts in thi s res pect, tha t they csc:lml1· all
aflil'll1:1.tion anl1 rlc11ial. It is co nv cui e11 t, th erefore, for rh et.ori1 ·:d purposes, to di stin g ui sh all cng11i tio11 s p1·i 111:1ri ly :1.s of
the l\\'O classes, those expressing and those 11 ot cx1 1re;;, i11g
a!llrrnaLion or denial. The first class arc jmlg111 ent.s; th e
seco 11d class includes the origiHal cogn itions give11 i11 J>e r1 ·(· i1·
tio11 a nd iu tuiti on, aml t_he rfori1·:ltin! rngni1i"11 ' ~' ''' " 111
pr·,,1 w1· concepti on. Th e nh_ject-; ut' l"' rc1 ·1iti,111 :1:1d int11 i:'"" ·

pLrn:itory discourse, in order th:it a fixed atteution may be
secured. The mind do es not perceive well when it is not
pleased. Xeuophon has well observed that instrn ctio11 in
any case is imposs ible from one who does uot pl ease.'!'
The attention of the hearer may be di sturbed, also, by tl1c
existence of some cheri shed opinion which may be unfavorably affected by the ohject presented in the discourse, a nd
arg um entation m:ty be necessary as a preparatory work even
for th o purpose of explaini11g a truth.
So, likewise, the attention may be disturbed by some feeling or pnrposc in the mind addressed, which m ust be appropriately managed by th e speaker who would secure attention
to his explanation'.
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inc:idcnt:il in cxpl~r:.:i t ory di.:;co ~~'3C . l t i.; .;ufrici \_,u.~ . Lln~ le­
fon·, IH'i'I' 111c·n·ly ro inrli r.11r c-:c,1wr:l11.r rlw i·c·l:iti 11 11 iii' tl1i,.; [,,

ce ; 1~!''1 ' :tl'C S~t i 1 1 ! O j,,_,

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''°'l'l:t11:1tory il i- cu 111.-;1• 1.-; :-il!!l l\ '
( ' II//'

IJ\'

(!'!"l !t

'i ·! ! )( ·i )1.~-

ll:--1

1< ~

"(I

Cllll\'l 'i \'1 ' 11.

(I; > I i l t :...:_ 1l i ' i I 1l Jt.
t f I'

: if'I

I I

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I

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f

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!

11]'1) I l 1i 1 ' f

i\ ll

~· .

l 11 111 1
1. ',', 1 1 '

·Ill 1 ]1 1·
11: -

1\s lias tH'ell sLakd . tlic ohjrcr nt' the dio01'<•lll'.' " !11 <'\ f•l :1JJaliu11

i:--:

lo i1il~ .J l'l.ll ur i ll:-;LJ'lld;

Ii' •!

to co11 111 111 11ii· ;.!!1' :-;1lJ 1H · 111·\\'

view, or tu correct. to <~sp:i.ncl. nr tc1 111111lil\· i11 ,'"'""' w :iy
one alrl':l'l _\' e11t1·rt :1i11 L"d.
Ex pl :inntion :i ml rnnfir rn :1ti""
h~ 1 1h i111 11 11·ili:1t 1 ·ly ;t1l(! J" c~.'-' Lil( '. i!tlt·ll i:..'., t:IIC!', 11u l 1l1t · Ji;t:-: .-.:i(itl-.;
or 1111' 11·ill. 11111 th'" di1J;.r i1 1 tl1is 1·"'!"'' ·1. tli:11 1!11._1· 1·1·' !'""1
diiil!rOliL oLates ui' the in telligence, and aiin to eitE:cL d iilere ut
kinds of cognitions. The distinction which is orio'inallv

LilJ. I. C. II., § 39.

;! ]

l

! ·;

1:_;, 11

i ii I 11h

C U l!l'l' ]1L~. \\ lict l :l~l'

\ \ Ji, ' t l:,
j I<
!)(' :1 ;1111"t ·lw111it ·d

( 1( I 1li. ii ...-: '•

Ul

1"1 "I
( )! "

I'~

)1 1: !

( !!

~

i)( '

'r l1 i' !'-: :: I w rl'( •t •f l.\ l1·.:...:ii i 111: 1i · ' II; ( ' f, I ] '
,.
i 1id i \ ii! ;::1 l 1 'L. 11 ·1 ·:--: :i 1·1 • it! t J" i jd 111
, ~ r:,
I i '.- '
( 111
i ) ! 1 ' \ " ~ l; '1 ' !/: 11 11.r / / 1 /
l i I; l I i -: , 1 I I I \ I ~ 1 \I•
· ' 1·1 ' \ ! i · '. \ • ' I I 11
J·c Li.ti un , .iu uLL c 1· \\·u rd::;, CVHcei\· ed . 'fh e: t12-rin l tuiiult i 5
sy 11011 ymons with co11 cf71ti'o n . Doth ten11s may be used :i.s
( ·i • 111 · 1 ·1 \! 'It.

' ·1 : ' 1 11 11 1 , 1 1!
J \

gi 1·en in Logie or th e science of the laws and frn~1s of'
thought, is twofold - that of the technical concept and tl11:
te c111!l cal jLtc1ginc llt. ..::\. co nc;.;p t is a, cogni r.ion of a. 1111 ·.rt3
ul.jet.:L; a jnc1gu1e nt is a <:ognition of two related nbj P.r: r~ in
whicl1 one of the objects is a tlirm ecl or denied ot' the oth er.
A concept is expressed in language by a noun ; a judgment

* 1\Icm.

I • i ii ' ' · l i 1: ] ,

UI ' ]11::[1 ·a l

I : \ ~ ( 'j I \

" '1th th e oth e r 111 t1! ~11n !· i11 ~1, :1 c:n;'~-i:it in H of
ohj cc:t. in <1i sti 11 ct.ion fro n1 t.hc r:11g 11iii~1 n h·rn~1..·d
j Il\ J:_;,- IlH_::.J t.

I

v

M710nC. µYJOfµla.1.1 EtJ.10.t TraiOevcrl11 1tapa ToV µ.:q

<ipiuxono~.

C(IJ ! VC r t iblc 011 c

:t

~ : i~:1iil l!

:1

~itilln, iit the prup er :-;<·11se, r!i~tL i;-;, :1 :-:L·n1 v 1wc \rlii vl: l'.\jJ!\·.-., ... (..,
a j111lgrne nt, may be 1·ie11·cc1 sirn]>ly :ts :1 11 ohj cct ol' cu11 "''1'tio11. Tlii s use of :1 11 e~ pi'l's:;e cl j11dg n11 ·1;( is dl'11niL'1l hy tl1e
gr:rn11nati cal term d a11s1', 11·J1i ch tlill \,, l's fru11 1 a l'i'"l"'l' s1•11/,.11rr

rII

II::

,

~

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~l

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60

EXPLANATION.

GE:\ l':J: ,\L l :\T lWULCTlll:Y \'IL\\".

in th.is, th a t it exp resses a judgment as an object of thought.
Thus, " L a w is a rule of action" is a proper sentence, expressing a judgment. But in the sentence " That L aw is a
rule of action is ass umed by Blackstone in his Commentaries,"
th e words in, italic letters constitute a ·clause which is indicated by the clausal particle tltat. It is h ere u sed as a
simple object. Judgments thus used as obj ects or terms a r e
of two classes, facts which respect an ev@t, som ethin g comin g to be , a nd truths which r espect what is or exists with out
r efer en ce to its h appening or becoming. This distinction is,
however, not nicely observed, facts and truths being often
confounded.
Still furth E:r , ·th e th eme in explanation is not n ecessarily
any real object or truth. It m ay b e a purely imagin a ry
object not supposed by the writer to h ave any foundation in
r eali ty ; or it may be an erroneous conception in his mind of
a r eal object or truth; or, furth er, it m ay be a con ception
founded on r eality but modi fied through the influences of his
p eculiar habits of observation.

3 . The l:tw of nw tl1 oil, it is crp1 all y oli vio ns, is i111p• h1· d "'
:1 11<'Cl'ss it.y in c 1·ny r:1 I iu11:1 l p ru<·e1l 11re. Th e 11 1i11 d r-:11 1
esc r t il s •a cti1·it.y freL· ly, !'11lly, a11d s11 cc'' -'"ful ly, 1111ly a ,; it
111·ocec<l s m c tl1 odi1°:1.ll y,- t hat is, 0 1ily a s it p rocec1ls in :u :co rchn cc with the laws of its ow n n:i t11rc. T u tl1 ese laws of
01 11· in tell ectual ll ature, all trnth, so far as it can be tho 11gl1t,
m11 st a ccess:irily correspond; so tliat the m iacl, proeccd ing
in :i.cconlaucc with the principles of its own n ature, mn st be
l'rucccding at th o sa m e t ime in acco l'!bn cc with th e prin cipl l's
of t ru th. The eye can no more see clistind ly anrl acc11r:1t« ly
if the rays of lig ht be bent or r1i scoloret1 ia th e m cili11111
Lhro11gh whi ch it passes, than th e mind p erceive or :ipp rel1 l' 11tl tru ly and well if th e n eccss:iry r elali ons of tho11g l1 t :m:
perve r ted or di storted.
Not only must th e mind in :ill r ca1l y a!lll succc.ss ful i11n»1 tio n proceed m ethodically or in a ccorda.n t.:c with tli u li \l'< l
laws of th oug h t, but in training, in a<;q11iri11 g sl;ill i11 rn11st.rn eti1 1.g tli sco 1m <e, th is n cccss:i r y nll' l li<i<l 11111 .' I ],,. i11 1<- ll igc ntly appreh ellCl ed, a ml, a t t he ou tset at least. 1111"t ' '"
co nsciously appli ed . Tt becomes n cccss::ir.1 '. tltcrf'f'mc. i11 :111
art of rhetoric, di stin ctly to iJJ rl ic:iin ili c 111 ctli 11<1 :11 •pli,.:il 1I <'.
to ll1c cliffcrent forms awl particular 111-cicc:-<scs of 1fo""' ·' i""
a 111l fnrni sh the occa sion a nd tl1 e in1lll(;emen t for a <'a n·f1il
r ecognit ion and appli cation of it. The ;;tutly of m d h1Jd in
ord e r to the format ion and streng th e n in![ of h:ihi ts of m e lh1Jtl ical thi uk in g is the inrlisp cnsable co n1lition of all rati onal
progruss. A min <l t rain ed to l1 abitual adi1·ity in m<·rl1u•l
h:cs r each ed its t rn e m at uri ty of trai ning. 'Yithout tl1i s,
it is 0ssP. nt.inll y rl efl 0iP11t. in its cnlt.nrf'.
!ii:..; nl1vio1h 111: 1.i. !Iii' l! l<'ll1nd, >.1!iiJ ,. ii llllh ( \;try"" i1li 1h ·
el1 a ractcr of the th em e in di scourse, mu st Y:1ry :<l so 1ri1.l 1 1111:
11l i_; (''. · 1- o ~· 1 1ni1H_l~ t' d ('ltd nt' d H' (li.-..:f· 0 nr.~t' .
Jr 1.< 1111r ... 1:1;i 1· ;1· 11i .
1111:1.,:forc, in rh etu ri1 ·:tl trai11i11g rnc·n.: ly to i11dicai.c till: n< « ,._,_
Kii.y uf 111etJtucJ a11d its ![Ull Cf:tl ll:tf'llre. Jt is ll ('('C.< .s:1n· {ll
vit 1w it in its va ri o 11s m oclif1c:1.tion s :ts <kLcnni1l<'ll liy II" ~
p a rti cular the me, bu t es peciall y by the part ic11Lir ohji:d o f

§ 70.

Explanation is go \·erned

by four general hws

"·hich :ire grounded in its Ycry nature.
Th ese are

(1.)

THE

LAW 01" UNITY;

LA w OF SEJ,ECTlON ; (3.) THE LAW
(4.) Tim LAW ov Coi\IP L ETENEss.

(2.)

Ti-rn

OJ<' METHOD;

1. The u ecessit.y of uni ty is found ed m the n ature of all
di sco urse as a ratio na l proced ure. S ee §§ H, 52.
2. The law of selection is grounded in th e n ece.5Sity of
excludin g some of the infinite variety of subordinate th o u.g ilts
or vit::ws t.l1rm1gh vvliielt t.l1t" ge1 1(era l t!ieJJ1e 111:1.y
devt_'l")""I.
The least-informed mind, if capable at all of discourse, mu st
possess manifold p:.tr tieular Yicws or thoughts which may in
diffe ren t degr ees b e sen 'iceable in the development of t he
them e. H ence arises the n ecessity of a n intelligent and
ca reful selection of such particul ar thou ghts as will best subserve the p articular object of th e explanati on.

Ii,"

~

l

I
..,- . . . .<,; ?.-

.

62

EXPLANATION.

th e di scourse, as well as also by the particular process whi ch
is adopted in the discussion.
_ 4. The law of com pleteness is obviously imposed by th e
ve ry nature of discourse as rational. It requires that all th e
p a rticular views requisite for a full exhibition of the theme
for the object proposed in the explanation, be presented.

§ 71. In order that an object of though t may b e
inte llig ibly presente d to another mind, two things are
r eq uisite that should be carefully distinguished: first,
it must be clearly prese nted; secondly, it must be
clistinctly prese nte d.
Clearness a_n d (listinctness are the two essential qualities
of perfect thought. Th ey are widely di stinguishable; and
th e habitual di sc riminati on of them is of the first importance
to the writer. Clearness is that quality of thought whi ch
ch arac te riz es it when its ohj ect is v iewed as entirely separate d
or di stinguish ed from all other objects of thought. Distin ctn ess, on the oth er h arnl, is that qu ality which characterizes
th oug ht " ·h en its obj ect is viewed in all its own proper p arts.
A s all proper thought views its objects in the relations of
wholes and parts, clearn ess characterizes thought viewing i ts
objec t as a part of a larger whole and separating it comple tely from a ll other pa rts ; while distinctness characterizes thought viewing its object as a whol e containing parts
and reco!! nizin!! those parts as together making up or co nstitutin g· the whole.

§ 72. Th e process by which clearness is secured to
th ou g ht is DEFINITION ; which may be defin ed to be
tl1 c ~epa rati o n of tl1e th eme from all other nl1j erts nf
thought.
Hhetori cal definition may with no impropri ety he co11siclered either as one of the several processes of cx pla natio11,
or as a precedent condition and introduction to explanation.
In the former case, explanation would be take n in a more

....

<·0111p1Thc11 sin\ in t.l1 l• l:itlcr iu a more li ll1i!l'.l i11 1port. It
\\ill l1l' llv 1· s n li'L' l'l " L~ 01 11· p11l'JIO-'C lo t rc:lt it '' ' i11 trn du!' ill.~ tn
Jl l"<IJIC' I' l'XJ'l:lll:Hinn . J\o c.x pl:in at iuu c:1 11 J1 rn1·l'l·d l''"'l'"rl.1·
wi thuu t it. 1t is i1uli spew;al1l c t.h:i.t the writ e r lir:;t oht:1i11 :t
l'k:ir view of h i.. th eme; tli:1t is, that h e <l e line it to l1i s <111"
mill!l by compl etely se p:uati11g it in hi s th ought from :11 1
othe r obj ects.
The par ticuhr movement of th e th1Jl1g ht in <lcfi11i11g 1vill
vary with the various cha ra cter of th e th e me to lie llcfillc·d.
Th e par ticular explanation of these various processes of
<lc lini tion , with exercises, is prop e rly to be so ug ht in the more
nulim cntary text-books; and only the g enera l Yicw of it s
u:d.ure and n ecessity is prese nted here.
Th e first thing to be done, th e n, in m1!l er t:1king- cxpl:lll :1tory disco urse is to de fin e the th cu:1 e. Thi s wi ll oftL: ll cost
me ntal effort, perhaps severe and protract.e1l effo r t. ]~nl :ill
elfort drn s cxpe11dec1 wi ll Le :.ibumbn!.ly r L: paitl i11 th e g n ·:1kr
fhc.:il ity with wh ich th e labor that follows wi ll be ilunr:, :11111
e~p eci ally in the g reater p erfection with whi ch the wl1 ok
work will be accomplished.
UltL't0r ical defiui tio11 is to he dist i11 g11 i.,J1c.. l f'm111 c·t y1 11ci1 c1g·
ic:tl llcfiHi tion, as also fr om what is so metimes c:tll etl logie,d
dc l1nition. Etymologi cal definition is the cxpl ica ti on of th('
rn r:rni11nof a wnnl . wl1ich is ..,ffederl tl1r111wh
it.s eh·1nnln.ri·"":'
·:'."'
'
,...,
cal orig in an d history, as description is cl c finccl to be a ?Critinf! down : or by a synonym. as remwL is <l e lill ecl tl1rn11 ic'h
its sv non v m n11sP1Tr1tinn. Rh etorical c]f'finiti n11 is tlw .J, .,;_
11i Liun not of a word, but of an object of tlwugl1t. Lo;;ic:tl
rlcflnition, as sometimes so called, is effected by nami11g th1)
l• L:Xt l1igher specie" a1ul tl1L: s pecific.: L1iffe re11ce, ~1,;, 11111n i, l<1:_:ic:1ii y dc l"inccl to be cmi'mo / t/i rr' 1"s r,·rl/nn,r1 - rof.-, ;;10 1
-

'f};rrf /

0 1'

-

J}}({))})Jl(ff

,

t/Jrtf (s

is

ln'monous -

11/111U1it i /tS

)!ui1111."f'/.

Log ical d e finition
bu t one sp ecies of rh eto ri cal 1lefl11it i<t11 .
lt is obvious that we ca n sep:1rnte one objec t fru111 :ii I
othurs in our thou ght only as we clisti11g11i slt th e parfil'ttl:tr
ki11d of whole in which we view it. 'Ve must, in order to

•

64

GEX UlAL

EXPLANATION.

defin e man, for example, r ecognize it either as a word-whole
cons is tin g of so many l etters; or as denoting a s uus tance
con sis ting of head, trunk, limbs; or as having certain attributes, as heavy, upright, and the like ; or as a cause consisting of certain capabilities or powers, as locomotive, heariug,
seeing, &c. To attempt defining without such r ecognition
of the kind of whole in which the them e is viewed would
lead into inextricable confusion and difficulty. It becom es
necessary, the r efore, to indi cate the kinds of whole in wlti ch
the them e may b e viewed so far as our customary thought
and lan g uage di stinguish them. They are classified in respect to the manner in which they come into our mincls as
objects of thought. Generally, then, it may be observed that
all obj ects of thought rire g iven to us either by one of the
L\v u i~1t: n - lt ir_·t• u1· oI·ig iil a l cogn irion, lnruition an(i l'erceptic111,
or hy 1hn facnlt;v of Thnu;.:·lil pr"!''''" n!.J,,,rwi se Galled the
!Jj ,,, ·11r:, i\·r , :1i so tli r Urtir·e1iyr· (1 ,:·uJty . (_)l,j,:d:o gi 1,;H LL~ Ly
t ht! .I 11 L11iLi\:e Lt1·.1d1._v <1l'1""" -;1111l/w m 11 /-1·,,,,/ ,, 11/1"l1~ ...·. :-n1d :!l'P 1-•itl1r-1r

l l' TI:Olll' CTO I~Y

VIEi\.

In de fining a thc tll(.:, :1 s l1:1 s hc1· 1t sl:it ctl , 1,·c (listi11g11i sli it
f'rnm l it e other wli u!,•s of' 11 1,; l'i:J...;s io 11·iii r: lt it l "· l n1 1 .~..; . T l111 <
IH ' tl l'i i11 e 1lr.1rs as c:rn s:il \1·liul <'. :1 s :lt· li11'.l. or cl1 :t11 '.li w.::. f,,,.
i11 si:t11 cc, hy rcpi'~sc1Ji,i11 g it as rr:flc1·ti11:1 ·-a d11s!.-.11 r;·d fi:;/,t,
tli s ti11gui slti11 g it tli11 s from the fi xc<l s tarn, atlll frum o llwr
[il :w cis. '\\' c defi11e lVfars as a s ubstance hy clis ti11g ui sl1 i11g
it as fiery, by d es ignating it as the .fiery planet. '\\-e cl c li 11 c
Jillf11 et a s a class-nonn by namin g a hi g her cb ss, l1ml'rnly
but(IJ, unde r which it belongs, and tlt c11 in<li ca li11 g Ili c a t trihute which di s tinguishes t his class fr om otl1 e r co linli11ate
c l:1 sses of heavenly bodies, as revolci'll.<J about th e sun . '\re
deli1te animal as an attribute-whol e, by namin g a brger co mplrnn c nt of att.rihntes of which animal is a p :1rt. as or.r;1111i::cd,
:11Hl tl1 e u indic:iting the :ittrilrnt r' - s r1111>.>1.' - - \\'Jij,·Ji 11: ,: ;11su i.-:. 1u...:.:i ;..t.U i ili~tl il\.iW uf;~· u· 1J1 .:J'if11. 1'::.1- i/; ; i.'"' J'r 1;11l 1 ·1 // ' lu/1i',. ,
it. ls tTllf; t.Jiat. }ang 11;1 _:.~.-(~ dnt• ~ nnf .~· , ·11 1T : 1J! .\-" r·11r11i .., l1 dili;· !'1·!d \\·1H'ds l;n' t' X!ll't•:-:<.:i11.'.2.· 11J1 •·--.:(• ditii ·n'r 1r kind~ ro( 1\" !1 1·1].- \Yl1 i , !1
L: .\: ~ Liu Ll1uu,&!· l1t.
I~11L ii' iioi. 111 s i11 1_! li · \Vdl' • L~. ii \\i i i .~ i ·11. · r ­

.~' i \lt-'f! 1!'-' ~!\' the i:Jr•nlrl' f'f
u-/11,/t· s.
' f l1 1•\' :1r1' Yil'\ \ -1·d i·i ; h rT
i11 tltc fo rms of tiruc. that i,;. :i..-; c:wsi:.c;, l:llici·t.-,. ,.,,.111 ·< ,1,
cun1i11 .~· to lle . as l1:tpjH ' 11in~: . i11 o tli cr \\"()J'1L...; :1...; 1)l)j(·1· f . .: li:i\ ! 11'._.!:

:dh" if not ;1h·•.1y.'. '11 '1'' ";11 · i11 1110· ,.,1,·1 "l' ·•l ,1.. ". J" l"' ''· 11I .. 1
1I1, Jt 1,'..2l1 t i r 1 1l i .. .; ('(Jl l r ....:c. \ \ -1l\ ,!l1l ·r t l 11 \ \ 1·i 11·1· ]1:1..; l" ·:1 l] \ !
i ,
!) I' 1 111 ~ urlH ·r k i11d i11 Iii .. .: , . i t ·\L or li:i-.; l)J'1)('('1·d1 1l 1 11 ! l\ 1:1 \,Ji 1:,!-

:tltrili11! 1•-.: (l t' ~1Ctint!, :t!ld :t !'C thl 1l C:tlJt·d r·ru rsr:l 1c/1f//1 'S;

! 1j' \ \ ]l11k· i11 \\Titi1 1 ~:

Jl i,J ii( (/'i.('(7'

lJ( _'IT''Jl l i o 11

01' f:.Jilh '/111.

())1.iPi'f<.:

~t r e

1

'I''""'·"·''

( JJ'

i 11

1lie Ji,rn1s of
s1il i.ct a1w<· s. as si1111d1 lir·in!_'.. i11 "ll 1•·r
11urd:; a :; l1a1·i11g aLtriliuU :s of' q11:dity, :111<1 :ir'' tl1 1· 11 1·:111,·d
,;11f1s!rt11ce-·1clio1cs. .Dnt objects of r:it.hc:r ci!' 1.l1• ·H'· ki1 1<lc nf
11i1 ukc; u u.1· li e i11cn::t:o cJ ll lllllt:r it:;i.Ji,1' or s11:1 1·i :1 llv. - ""' 1 1-.mn itipiic <l or may be massed, :tml thus form cuLLcctiz:c w>1of.13s
and mass-wholes, de noted by words called in gra mmar collecti 1.:c nouns or rt uun.s u_( 1nult1:Lnrl<:, as .fon-:sl, ,;nny. ~n il 'IN•t.-. ·snouns, as water, Nght.
Objec ts given us through th e facultv of thought a r P. call erl
lugicul wlwles.
They a re formed by Go mbini1~g either t. ht~
subjects of propositions having the same predicate, or the
predicates of propositions having the same subjects. The
first class are called class-wholes ; the second class are called

attribute-wltoles.

1 · 1,

111· --.:-.; :tt i d

I')'

d> r · 1· i i 1~ i11: 1· i · >l1 1· !· i \11

']'])('

i .. .:

li1 ·-.; t

:11 1d

( ·; i -. i 1< 1

;t 1. ·1 111 ir1• l

L i1:•l -

]1 \ 11:-l : i :•·i

I )J i l i( ·:11 i t )]) i ll :..: ! )I 'I . i j ij. ! 1i': l1 ') 1( 'I ', • j: i <i ; ! " 11 1
it i.-.; i11 1-.; ~i l1 I(' tl1:1t 11!11· 111:1\· ],·:11·11 111- i1 1'--'.·1 1r
11i1li r(lk r:1l<l c ckiJI 11irli 110 'til' I.\' , ,f ;Ji,. :.: :111:11: . 1i" J<1" 1' ti 1· 1· (_111 t l1 c sc :11c. ;tnrl iiu tl11· () J\ ·r i ~ · : 1 l k1! ( l\\ - lt 1-l '--'.·1 · , d· 1l1 1· d1 _.:T i 1-:.
nt' plrrh :i.nrl their r c l ~ tio11s, }L't it is c:-tsii_· r ~1 ll 1 l LcLLc l' it 1
learning the art to study il.111'1 prnct.icP. upnn tlwsP. <li ...;ti1wJin11s
:---1 111

l.\'

('( 11 d 'l!.., if 111.

: t 111l

('.\.(' Il l

11 111:-;ii · ~ alt!11)J1 .:2.·h

1

i 1 : p ~lr:tlc Jy; su .

i11

\\"l"iii11g-.. Llic rt~:1. 1 li t ':--i L

\\" : 1.y

i ll 11: ·i1 rici i '. 1;1 '. y

!s by th oi·ough stuclv of the cl crnc:ii L; uf' tl 1.-i11 (.- L !.
~

'-'

.,

Q

!( 1

11t ·"

i

\-

pressed in di scourse sc paratch-. l !nti l th e mi nrl j , ir:1i n. ,J
:(<T.urdi11gl.v so :cs to n1 :1rk tlilo lli-ti1wti1_i110 i11 tl1v 11 li c'k." ,,r
thought as it w ere in s ti nc tfr ely, ~s th e 1irollcic 11 t rn11 sici:rn
in st in ctively and with out conscious effort olisel'l' cs tilt' 111 :111 ifvltl distinctions of pitch and time, the in<J.niry slt oultl be rli s5

66

-

EXPLANATION.

GENERAL I:\THODUCTOJ:Y V IEW.

tin ctly r a ised at the first undertaking to think out the them e :
I s it :i m ere verbal whole or a whole of thought that is to be defin ed? ls
it an integrate whole or a logical whole? l s it, if an integrate whole, a substance-whole or a causal whole? I s it, if
n log ical whole, a subj ect-whole or a predicate-whole?

Th e partienl:i.r processes by whi ch thi s is C'hi l' fly l'f'..
f(·de ll are s ix in 11runbe r , - Nxtm . 1TIOX, DE:" (' l~ll'Ti u >,

ill \rhat kind of whole is it to be viewed?

ExmteISES IN DEFINITION. After defining the words
in which they are exprcssP-d both etymologically and by
synonyms, define the Jollowing themes : -

l. .Lis ccmsal whoies. G-olcl ; the loaclstone ; the sun ; e lectricity ; oxygen ; the ear ; the beaver; barometer ; metal!i:l"'.!; <t : k nowlci!'.!C: conJ"lc<y : c0mnv'rN·.
.. -1s sui-.sf(!fJl'~- f!:h r./.-:.~. 'rh0 rti;irnnr;rl: Q"Cl -=: irri: ~ ::t.n r n1:
i 11tt · l l 1·1·r- : l11ipt' ; C'('() JH ' ll1,\": L l\\-: !-!.t,11 111<: --1 11 J1 ·r<tiri 1il 1: li i ,.r; t111 !'I' ; I 1: 1Iii t.
:J . _Js du,,·s-1111ofcs. The 0:1 k; 111(' l l \ ; 111 1· n1ll11J'I·; 1!11•
( ':t n( ·1:--i :J11 : t he (k <i r1·.-.; :
S\ ·t

t 11t~ Yirtn (·.:..:.:

tl1 (· ·1 1·1:..:. :

r t · ~ · iil i l : ( · " :

D1 VISION, P ARTITION, ExEMl'LIFH.:..\'l'ION, and C 1J :1 tP .11 :.-

1 ~ 0N AND CoNTJl-AST .

Tl 1is enu meratio n of the proce,ses of e xplana tion is
Ji >u11 (lctl on the different kinds of whole in \1·hi ch obj ec ts of
I li1 n1g ltt may be viewed.
The processes whi ch p rope rly
li L·lo ng to intuitive wholes a re omittPd, a s they e nter u ot :1s
cl1:1racteristic and governing. but only ns s11hsi(k1ry into
ilmnal discourse. It will not be amiss, however, to indieaLc
1l 1c·u1 hric[]y h ere, r eferring to system s of constrnci.ivc g ra111111 ·1r fn r n n1nrP pPrtlf'n1:11· :i nd i1 1 · ~11-·ii r.. 1! ·!·-..., 1" ; ~d ; ,,j\ . . r· il

:\
ii ] 1

I

I\ I

\\] 11 1) ( '"'•

; I] Ji

1

;I j ' ! '

t

\

j) I

: •:·,

\',

I l \ It ' r ill! ·d 111 ll\ti< (ii· 1111 il 1iti!i11 · • '1 1: 1' \ ; 1 i ', · " I 1 \ \11 i 1
1:.· .< : ii· ·· uf1.~·t)'r11'/: :1 " ;iu / 1·: Ii( r.'! / :t11d t l11· 1··1 1" ·1 ·i1 .
:1-: 11
/ ' •1·, ·sl .
I ·~ _\ ! 1] :1l1: i t !1 1J I c Jj' :-; 11( · \ 1 tl 11_:11 :1·,--., ! ·, 1,] i \ ' : 111 - I\
, , ·1
i·· 1

it

·i :::..

1. • Is nllri'lmlc-1rl/l!/1•s. ll 1rn1:111in·: i11 11·ll:·.c" 11ce : !'" 1t·i1>1 ism ; Lrn:11i cism: g r:11i1udi:: i11., Liuc:t ; Cl'ldLLll t \·.
HE:lfA ntc In order t.o r 0ro'..'.·11izc au au riliut<.' -'.d Jt1l,-. iL is
IH'C( '.'."'1 1'.v t.o refr,r t.o some s11hj cct to "·lti 1· !1 it
ll!
d ulillill'.'. an attrili11i(; ol' tl1is cl:1ss, cu 11s<'<[ll "t11l.1-. tl11.' i11•11ti t·..,
~hon Id. lirst be :1Jl.1:r snmn subject to \1·l1id1 it liclut1'._'. s. :t till
tl11•11 :ill<'!' the 01.h 1·.r :1.tt.riliu tes 1hat be lon!: to thi>
r l'!11' n L.j i ·i· t. nf t-111•. d1 •. !i11i1.in 11 \\·ill lie~ Lt} di::-: ~ T i 1 11i!l:l! _ L " ii l!·, lll
t h11~1, 1il.hr'.r attributes.
!i. :Is ·11·!1ul1·s -i'll 1·111·!1 1!( 111f f'1118Sf.~ U((llll'd. TIP:1~0J\: i:F lt•:
r:c:oti sm : s:l'.'.:1Cin· : adroitness ; rcYerb cration : circn m·; 1wl'tn cs:~; t.hra!ld on1; :1uLl1 o rit y; ~ y1n1n0-try; c::.-.,ui.:.:.try: i· i1l : !r( 1-

versy ; fidelity.

t hat is, through th e parts which mak e

11p

the theme .

...\

; 111/1 ·

i .. .;

t ' \]~bi1 H·d ;\ .; l1ru : : ll !

Ltr:..:··· 11uP1l1 ·1·

)1 !:1
. i1wd ;t-;.; a11 i nr1e li11 iL1

11 '. '

:ire \Yli ulc .. .;

l• !sl1r I

ll!'

1

'....'.i' 1)'. _'.

Ct_lllCJ'( ' (C.

]';qdt i1,_ ·:d

l' ·n~ . a ~

(Jr

'r lH·\· :t r i·
a ."_. !fn.nr \' _ic·\Y c d
'-p: t1T.

di~tJ'i( · { ..; ,

}J/lf/I

/11_' ((d. !ru/I.(·. fr'n 1l',' "

\'i i·\\-(·1)

'Jlii :c:

1...:

( \ -

i111t'_,._,- 11 ·/

1,/ s.

. ~ il i· ·r ..:.

~\ 1 1( i1l1l'l' cl:t ~ ;-.; u l' i11t Lt i l i\·(· \\·11c1 l t'."' :1 1·1' i': 1i li 1]

·nw,·

( · i 1l1 1·1· :i\1_'--lr :1i·1 . : 1-.. . tUfr ',
:1 -.. : ('i ) il ..._i_...,1;;~ '-'. 1d ' ('(
: I --

:1· : 1

t'llf l -..J< l '

~1'. tH · ,· ·---~

li:L"'

l

11

t

I

i.'./1; ·/un:c1d j h8~pos;_f/on.

lt. cu116ists iu an on.lerl,y uan11 ng 1 .•f
tlt i' cp;1f'i;1 ] p nrto; th nt, rn :lk(• np lltP ll1 "' 11w.
l '!! t ·--. 1· ti.\·i~ 11H1 il~·-: (d ' l·>, 11l: :r 1:tt i•n1. L 111111 1•
l"' ~ i1i 1 • 11.
!i n :!' t'.

& 73 . The cl1ief an <l more cliaracteristic ·work in cxpl a~ation consists in presenting the theme clist1:nct17;;

tJ1 1_' l ll l '.

!__'. j \ 1·i t

ir ls

~e('n

d itf;·r

1·1·1> 111

th(·

r : ll;11 11 :i~ : rl

l ): ,_

11t l 11· r ." . :t 11 •! i11 < i' ; · ·1 .- , --. 1"1

! u~ i cal ~r uu 11d s a111l i~>r cu111r ill'l1· :1 1·,..,_-.;. 1 .-. . ]1,Jttl1l

]fl_:

1_iil !-

11H'l '~ l n d

with th e othr.rs. Tli e.r c1ll e r l'r1»11 1,.1: 1ly ii tl" lit"
cniF;truct.lon of cl! scoursc, so1n ct.i Inc:-) fu 1·1 ii :. . 11'. 11g f {) i ! ~ L1·
ge 1H~ ral

departments or leatling he~vl s, more frequ ently occ11rring in cidentally in the oth er processes. Bnt th ey Sl'l't n fin ·

68

EXPLANATION.

GENEHAL I N TIWllCCT OI'. Y Y I E\\".

rhetorical u ses to _require no more formal treatm ent, except
as th ey: may be exhibited as rudime ntary processes, the 011 e
of narration, th e other of description.
Of the six processes of explana tion u am ed as cl1ief' processes, the first two - Narration and D escription -reg~inl the
tl1 eme as an integrate whole, the forme r under th e form s of
tim e, the la tter und er those of space. The other four regard
the theme as a, logical whole. The third a nd fourt h Di vision and Pa rti tion - r espect the theme, th e form er as a
subj ect-whole, or class; the latter as a pred icate-whole. An
explanation by th e one gives as parts lower classes, vurieties,
or individuals ; an explanation by t he oth er gives th e constituent attribute:; that Jrjake up th t~ tl-it~rfit-~ . rr :. ~.,I~ 11111 \< 1-'!
iu the rela tionship of whol.e t.n p a rt., texpl:1.i 11 i11 g- t.lw whn le
liy :t1l tlll'. parL;. 01 1Ji ,.1 J:t-,1_. tw o , E xcuq.,liilc:tli,_,u H1u 1 cs i11
tl 1e rela liuitolti}' uf wlwl e tu part. but ex plains Lit e LIH, 1m, a><
.a 11holc b.> a sin::::·Jc: f>:H L Comp:1rion11 :t11d ( 'n1il r:1.,I. "" t 1111
ndwr h:tnrl . n 1nYC' in r hi-· 1'(·!:1;!r)11:-- l ii1 1 (, ( 11:1rl
11: 1rf ·11 1il
h\ f'\hihi ri 11.c:· 1 ! 11 \ il1( n11_' :t~ :1 1;:n i il 1r11t1 ._.l1 : t 1· 11111Iilt'J!w11L1 ry p:ll't. t·itlH· r :1.:; si1niL1r or :F 11:1!; ·\'1· 1: 1.

t raction, multipli catio n, a nd llivi sio n, if not vari ous olli <' r
hi gl1 e r processes. In acr1uiriug the a r t, h owever, tl1c att c11t 1011 of the learner is :vivantageo nsly di rected to t hese parti c1ilar processes sin g ly aud successively. Each is studi e(l
a 11ll exercised upon before the n ex t is taken up. ' Vh en
e:il'l1 several process is thus m ade famiJia1' by separ ate :111(1
('(m t i11uccl study and exercise, the w ore com plicated opcr:tt ion s a r c p er formed with ease a ud success. It is so 1r it h
e\'e ry art. So self-evident, iud cecl, is this priuciplc tl1a t
1101.i1i11g but the fact of th e str ange neglect and ove rsig ht of
it. i11 the a r t of constructing discourse co11lcJ justify a rnpcatc<l
rd( ~ rc n ce to it in vind ication of tl1 c co urse th at is l1c rc pro-

!1)

9 / -!.

\\"JiiJ(• t.Ji,.,,.

J.•l 'fl('('SSl'S lll :l}"

:ti J

f,, . 1·1111 iJ 1i1wd i11

cl ioc om·-;c· , tlll ' \ :tl'l' Yd I :1.; il1·
d i~tin;;ui ,;lrnl 1le. Tl1 t')' ma.1' , in ~ni1w '. ·: t'' .,, ·,." ti'ti :·11t r•
eaeh tl1e ~in'.!ie a nd only proPPs~ of f'xphn :11i"11. Tlll'.'"
~re, :i! ,n, s11l1jl· d to rntircl,v- diftc rrn t pri11ci1,I·> 1·• ·.:1i!:1tin:.; the u ~e nf' tlwm . in i1iseour'l'. Hl'lli'C' the' prn ]'ril'ly :111d utility (,i· <·u11sidcring t lw m d i.;ti11 cil.y.
('IT1: 1i11 C':l ">C'S i 11 1Ji, .

<:lllll'

0

AH h:i.H h .ePn b0fore 0bE0rved, every art embraces dive!'se
parti cular proccsc;r.s, :i.ll nf whid1, in tllP rnnrA 1Yo1 1t1-·ii,:al•:"-1
for ms 0f tlw rirt, ~ff· <':irri,-·c1 nn <imt1 lt:11"Y'ii'l.1- l"~·,.f1,,.,.. T11
tlic :1c'lui."itiu11 ul· tl 1c: art, 110 1\'t.: Ycr. ilii::;e pru cc~~co :.u c a11alyzed, and studied und exemplifi ed in practice separately
and singly. An extended arithm etical process g en erally
combines the various particular processes of add ition, sub-

1't :n1i11t1ef1 of
( :i

1·l1

thi:~ l!(~('.(:ss i i.y

(J[

sunl y i11 ~· :11n1 c>.:1.:l'Li--i11:.!- ll! 11 'll

Ii:11 · 1 j, ·11l:1 !' I)\'l )('( •....:. ....:. i I l (l i :--( '(11,1l '>(.

"'

'! •:11· , 1I 1 ·1.\ : :: :i 1l ( f'
J

I· , ' Ii -

Li 11ui11g liis btwly a11(l i1racticc 11["'" ':u·l 1 i11 '''" kr, 11111 ii :1
I'" ,,·ct practical farnili:trily with it. j, ""' 111in·d .

0 1' :0 1:1: .\TI U:\ .

CHAPTER II. ·
OF

NARRATION.

~ 75. NARRATION is that process of explanation wl1ich
exhibits the theme in its relations to time.

There a re three different views which m ay be taken of
a n obj ect in its relations to time, according as the vievr fastens
m ore directly on the p eriod· of time in which the obj ect of
th o ng h t appears, 011 th e obj ect itself, or on the cause that
wo rks in the obj ect. Ever y event thus lias, first, its period,
i ts duration, ancl i ts stages or parts of time; sccomll y, its
subjcet which chan gns, 111aki11g np the bully of th e c vc11t, so
to spea k; ancl thirdly, the cause which works out th e even t.
The view accordingly may r est more directly o n th e pcriocl
of t ime as filled out by the transpiring event; or o n tltat
which is the subject of change in tha t p eriod; or, fiuall y, 011
the cause which works out the changes during this pcri ot l.
It; for in stance, w e take as the theme England, we 111ay
narrate the them e by taking, first, the period of E11 g bm1
a11d se parat in g it into cen turies or the periods co1·e rcd by
sncccssi vc dy nasties o r individual reigns, me n tio n th e evci 1t,s
th at trans pi red in eaeh of these successi ve portions of ti me.
S uelt 11 auatives are call ed annals or chronolog£es. Or. in th e
second place, we may tak e the s u~j ect of chan.ge. Enphnd,
and exhibit that as it 'changes in the tim e of its existence.
\Ve h ave then proper HistOl'.IJ· Or, in th e third pbce, we may
take th e succession of causes that ha ve work ctl o nt t hf! ch anges
in E ngli sh history nnd maim them pro111i11 c11t. "\Ve l1:we the 11
wl1at is called a Pliilosopliical l!istory. .Altl1011gh all th c~e

I l

Ji •nn s of 11 arrati1·e :igrr c i11 tl1i s lhat t.ltl'y al ik e \l l'\\. 11 11 ,
1li t· 111" 1111dcr the rd:1lio11s of timl" thl'} yet ,Jil1i.T ' l"'l' ilil':i lly
i11 i111l'urta11 t. r c:; pcet:;. .IL is ll Cl'e:;:;ary, tl 1crl'J i.Jl'l', tli: L\. i11
11Titing a 11arrative it be clearly r ecog 11i zct1 ill tl1 u11gl1 t., :1L
J..:1 st, whi ch view is to prec1omi11ate, th e chro11ologil'al, t li e
I ''."J'l'I' hi storical, or th e causal. .Al l th e Ja1y s of exl' l:111 :1till 11
11 ill 1·:1ry their application, acco rdi.11g · to tli e sl'cci li c Yic1Y uf'
Ji ll' 1h1· 111 e as he re i11c1 icatec1.
Tl1 c relatio n lie tw ce u t hese sp ceics of 11 :1rrat ion is 1yc Jl
ill11 :; trat ct1 both in the ch:w ges of i11rlivid11al cx pc ri e 11 cc i11
,.,., i'cet to t he deg ree of interes t fr l t in t hem n•spectin·lv ,
:1 11< ! :dso in th e progr ess of lti storical l itc r:1ture. Tli t• cl1i id
111 1lices chie fly and cha racter istically th e ny ents tl1:1 L !ill 11p
: 1 J'<·ri od of time.
He passes from s nl>,i cct to snhj cct i11 d isr ,'.~ :tn1 of all in terior conn ec ti on.
Jli s narr:1ti1·e.s are 111:1d e
111 1 of the series of events t.hat ha 1· c occ1 1nT<I P\ 1< ' :11'1<- r
:111<>1 1<c' r, t.o the snppress ion both of Lil! ) s1il1j<·d :111d nl' 1\1< ,
•·:11 1.'e. The more ac1vance(1 mirnl deli g hts i11 prope r l1i , f<11·y;
it. t:1kes little pl easure in m ere chro nologies; it <l c111:111d., a
si il 1j••ct of ch ange and finds the cl1icf i11 t1•ri:st in it s c h:111gi11 .~',
11·i1l1 co mparatively sli g h t interes t in t l1 e e:t11scs t h:1 t 11·01·k
1\1<, el1:111 ge. The mo re mature rnirnl r e main s u11 satisfi.,d till
it 11:1.sscs through the chrouologica.l succession o f e 1·e11ts t."
1I"' 011 0 subj ect, th e ch a nge in 11·hich form s th e i111<-rinr co 11 lt- 11t. o f those events and t he bond of conn ect io n h!'lm·l'n
<\1 .. 111, and th en t_o ·the cause that pro1luccs t.ho,se ch:wges.
Co rrcspoIHling to tl1is chan g i11g ex: pcri o11 ce i11 t,li c i11 di1 id11: il mind, is the progress of i1:1.rr:1.tive li t.t) r:tl11re. 'l'l1e
1·:<1·li 1,r .hi stori es conli11 e thcm snl vcs m:1i11l y lo lh· · , j1, 11 .i1 ,
r1 pr<• st,1it.:1ti ou of the s11 i;c.,ssine 01.- Pn ts 1h:1.t fill np rl1L' J'"l' ;,,, 1
:i11• i 1]1< , s pl1 nre o f t.Ji ,,ir 11:11T:ili1 <·s. ;\ lnr<· i'"f'Pllt 11i ·:1,,ri< ·<
J ,,.,." '"t t he s ubj ect as pa ssin g t lt ro11gh t lt e."e c l1 :u1'.,!·e-; ; 11"l1i!c
11iil.1· <·:111.sal, th at is, p hiluwp l1 k: tl lti sto ri l,s, :ire 1l1 e .[>nnli1<· ti 111 1
, ,i· 11" ' 11wst r eec 11t ti111 cs.
T hi ,; prug 1·css i11 l1i sturil':il Ji1 , ,...
:il 1111: i.s cxe111plificd i11 the hi stori es of J lc rodotns, of l !1 111" "
:111 <1 ul' Guizot.

,-~

......

- -

72

- -

-

EXPLANATION.

UF :\ ,\ 1: 1:.\'l' I O:\ .

9 76. THE THEME in narration is ever something
vi ewed as becoming, happening, changing. It is either
S1MPLE, consisting of \vhat is outward and sensible; or
AnsTRACT, consisting of what is intern al and spiritual.
Exampl es of Simple Th emes are: the siege of J eritsaleni; the Crusades ; the battle of Waterloo; the settlement of America ; the Athenian R epublic ; - of Abstract
Th emes : the working of pride ; the formation of habit;
the progress of art.

Nothi ng fo rbids tl: c adoptiu u of' one or these Yi C\Y S :J S
governin g in the <li strih11tio n o f tl1l' pri11 c ip ~tl hl':H1' :llltl <>f
a nother in the S11lionli nal e <le1·<'lop11w11t ; as a sirn]'l e hi sto ry
or a philosophi cal l1i story may vt~ ry properly adopt purely
chronological div-is ion s as its leadin g <li visions.
The life of inve ntion in writin g ll :trr:iti ve, a n<l tlie i ntercs t
iu readin g it will dcp e11ll csseu tially 0 11 tl: e firm gr:t sp of Lile
theme proposed by the wr iter, a s the 011c U1 c wc to be dcn;lopecl. Even in chronolog ical aml i11 pl1i losopltica l narratiY c,
there is a subj ect of cha nge that must nl· 1·cr be lost 1-< ig h t of.
lt nn rnt. hn :i. nl:rnnnlngy nr :t phi! Mn11 l1 y nf r:h •·l".':i" " i11 1li ,,t.
Oil e subject. Th e irnp ort;1uce of thi.s l'i·_
i ii ci pk ·. i:, illu .~ lra\1:11
i11 the v; c:irison1 c ctt'cct o f tho ~e ~-\ ' t a · ~ · .d l1 i . . :11i ·;, ... . \\ Li t-; t 1., :. . l t1 ..,
' i
~ i \ (' 'l 1: i) ii !" ~
i' ·
! ( '' i
1: 1 !ill )' ! il :ii . ., : 11 \ 11 111 . . :111y ··

Themes in flit.hP.r class n.rP. variously m odified accordiug

as they are vie;ved, in more direct reference (1), to time,
that is. ch ronolo£:icall:r; or {:(), to the subj ect of ch:rnge,
tl i: 1t j-.;, bi .-.;t u r i1·:tl l\· :

~) r

(:;),

j,1

tilt ' 1·:11 1..: , .

\\- <)rki 1 1,~-

i11

1111 -.,

,.: ii 1.11·l't . r I1:1t i .. . 11I1 ii 11.• ,, ;
:\:irr::l i\" 1!1t ·n1< '' :in· di.,1ril1ui<'<l :iJ,.o. un a ct>Jll1' \\l1: 1L il i i~
fi·r1 ·111 pri:w il'l" ,,f 1l i1i , i,,1 1. i1 1l 1J l. Tl1n.'<.: of pln.,ic:d n:tf\11"< ', Jt:tr 1:ili \·t·' "f 11lii1·]1 :tl'li >l .1kr]
1V1i111rn l Jli"st or/ f' s. :i-.: (ii. ti ll · _!....:·l1)he. of lil:uit~ . n!' :1r 1i1 11:il :-: .
:! . Th n.>c: of' r:c1 iu11a l life.
Tl1i_·rnco; of t11i,; r·l:1" :t1·, · '111id i, id1 d i111<1 (<iJ . 11 1·•'1' ,,f in d i, iil 11:1 l.'. 11:crr:i ti\ 1'.' 11f \1l1 i1· l1
;in' l11·n.r;ru;1/; i°1 's . n1 1· m 11 /rs. ( '!l '.. it' tlwy ('\ ) \ T r 11 c r :-.: 1lJ1 :1l (' \ ) 11 r· : <'1 1<'• '· .!f'' li>' r:rll y . ill' lnu:1·!s , ro,1111,1;es, d <' .. it' tJ1,.,1· c· 111l1r: 11'<' 1>11lv
1i;1rli<"1d:ll' ki11ds "r l"'r>nnal C'.lpcri1~ 11cc: :11Hl (f1) , 11 1»··"
nf <'iilll11l llll il in><. 11:1rratives of 1Yliicl1 arc pru1wr !1i sfurics.
'l'li ••v ari> eidwr (I) . n:li ,~io 11 ;;. or<:!). occttl:tr or 1>11>1:11H'.
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~ 7 7 _ The Law of [j nity in narratiuJJ req ui re::;, Jir::;L,
that the one theme be pre se nted t hrnn:;l1n11 t fl~ fl prnp(·1·
n:irrntive theme, t liat is, in it~ n·l::1ions tn ti me>; :rnd
secondly, that it be presented in but one of the three
possible views of a narrative th eme, chronological,
proper historical, or philosophical, as the predominan t
and governing view.

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encl whi ch is moral in its cha. rad.e r, a ltl1 u11gh i11 11:1.rraLi1111
the com maudi11 g eull is th e information of' the u1lll t- r,.tan.l -

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.

76

-·~.

· EXPLANATION.

OF NARRATlON.

dicates at once, when only free· from obvious faults, the hand
of a master.

vealing · the cause, or a.s best appearing to be effects of a
cause, not as mere events, constitute the grand landmarks
of the narration.

§ 79. The Law of Method in narration requires that
the order of time be ever observed.

r

I
!

!

I
I

This is the one principle of arrangement in. all narration.
All explanation proceeds by steps, - by exhibition of the
theme in its parts, - part by part. The parts in narrative
must be given in order of time. Tjiis general principle has a
slightly varying application to the several species. In chronological narrative, the parts are periods of time, and the
order is the order merely of successive ti~e. ·The notion of
time as continuous is dropped, as here there is neither an interior subject, nor ·a cause working in the subject prominently presented. ·
·
In proper historical narrative, the subject of change itself
is prominently represented; · the parts are the successive
phases of the changing subject in the successive stages of
time ; and here, so fur as is ·practicable, through the exhibition of the successive stages, the principle of time as continuous, as connected in its periodical successiofls, must be
observed. As has been remarked,.skill and tact are requi. site here in order that the narrative may rise above a dry
chronological detail to a proper history. It becomes neces·sary to . apprehend the subject of, the change ~ and carry it
. along through all the· successive phases of the changes, never
dropping that from view. · · · ~:·' · · ··
· \
In philosophical narrative the causal influence working in
the subject of the change is the proper theme. The parts .
are the outworkings of . the cause as seen in the changes of
the subject. The cause, however, ever reveals itself to us
only as working in successive and continuous time . .. As· before, the subject changing, so now the cause working ·the
change in the subject must be kept steadily and constantly
in view. Here not chronological periods nor" successive
stages of the changing theme, but these stages as bti'st• re-

/

77

§ 80. The Law of Completeness requires that in
chronological narrative all the events that mark the
period chosen, - in proper historical narrat~ve all the
changes in the subject, and in philosophical narrative
the entire cause in all its workings, so far as the design
of .the narrative proposes, - be presented.
EXERCISES IN NARRATION.

1. Narrate chronologically 'bJJ suitable distribution of periods
the subjoined themes: (It should be remarked here that the
exercise should be carefully criticized by the application of
each of the laws of narration separately.) Aristotle; Galileq ; · Raphael ; Louis Philippe ; Hortense ; Benjamin Franklin : the human race; the Jews; the French; the growth of
a vine ; the glacier ; the crust of the earth ; the growth of
intelligence.
2. Narrate historically the following themes: Zenobia;
Dante ; Columbus ; Richter; Shelly ; Robert Bruce ; Ledyard ; Percival ; Sparta ; Alexandria ; Gibraltar; Mohammedanism ; the Papacy ; ·Hungary ; Poland ; the slave-trade ;
paper money ; English literature.
3. Narrate philosophically the following tlwrnes : The rise
of chivalry ; the progress of free institutions ; the growth of
art ; the culture of the taste ; the early spread of idolatry ;
the extinction of the aboriginal tribes of Ai:nerica ; the decay
of classical learning.

'
7!:1

OF DESCRIPTION.

, I

CHAPTER III.
OF DESCRIPTION.

§ 81. DESCRIPTION is that process of explanation
which e~hibits the theme in the relations of space ;
tha~ is, as a substance having attributes. - ·
·
As in narration, so here may be distinguished three species.
In the first, bordering on what we have under§ 73 called
Rhetorical Dispositi,on, the spacial side of the theme is more
prominent in the view. The theme is here represented
through its spacial parts. The theme, Great Britain, thus,
is so far described as its parts, England, Wales, and Scotland,
are presented in their proper relations to each other in
respect of direction, extent, etc.
In the second form of description, the aggregate of attributes, which rightly disposed in theii: relations to one another
. represent to us the substance, constitute the more p,rominent
·
. '
\
aspect of the theme.
'In the third form, the substance itself as the hnknown
1
ground of the union of these ' attributes, is placed foremost
in the representation, just as the ca~e is the real theme in
the third form of narration.
:· ,· · ·
But as proper history is the leading form of narration, so
the second form indicated is the leading form of description.
The first form is serviceable to the second or proper description, as chronology is to history ; and the third form presupposes the other, as philosophical history presuppose~
chronology and ·proper hist~ry. When philosophical speculation applies itself to trace out the relation of subs~nce to

attribute, as it has set itself to t.race out the relation of cause
to event, descriptions of the third form · will naturally
appear.

§ 82. The THEME in description is ever an object
viewed as simply being or existing, not as in narration,
as becoming, or changing.
It is either SIMPLE, consisting of what is outward
and sensible; or ABS;fRACT, con sisting of what is internal and spiritual. Examples of simple the mes are
Tliebe~ Mars, Alexander ; of abstract themes, mind,
logic, imagination.
§ 83. The Law of Unity in description requires first,
that the theme be presented throughout as a proper
descriptive theme ; and, secondly, that it be presented
·in b9t one , of the three possible aspec ts in which a
descriptive theme may be viewed as the predominant.
view.
§ 84. The Law of Selection in description requires
that such spacial parts, such attributes, or such relati ons
of the substance to its attributes be taken as will best
accomplish the special object of the description.
For different objects in describing d ifforent sets of
parts of which the theme is mad e up will be preferable, and care and skill are therefo re requisite in selecting that kind of parts 'which will best subserve the
special design in. writing. For political objects, thus,
the theme, Great Britain, should be distributed into a
ve i·y different kind of spacial parts from that whi ch
should be taken for geological purposes, or for merel_v
picturesque representation.
In description proper, which presents the aggregate
of attributes that represent the substance to us, it will
be greatly helpful to a ready and judicious selection,
0

. ..

•
80

EXPLANATION. '•

OF DESCRIPTION.

to have familiarly in mind the four leading classes of
attributes, namely: those of quality, of action, of condition, and of relation. The first · two of the classes
named are attributes of property, and consist of the
internal parts of the theme. The last two consist of
the external parts of the theme, and exhibit it in its
outer relations to space or time, or to other objects of
thought. The theme, Great Britain, thus, in respect
of its attributes of quality, is represented as enlightened; of action, as mamifacturing; of condition, as
insular; of relation, as commercial. .,; J .'.
•
.
.l '' .,
. § 85.' The Law of Method in description requir~s that
the parts be placed in the order of affinity.
··
In the lowest form of description, where only the spacial
parts that make up the theme are presented, the general law
'requires tnat, beginning with some one part, the selection of
which is to be determined by the special object or occasion
of the description, we proceed with the next adjacent part,
and so on in order, and forbids us to skip over contiguous parts
to those that are mare remote. The law is easily applied
to simple or outward themes; its application to abstract
themes is more difficult, but in perfect analogy. To describe
the mirid, thus, by naming its parts as those of perception,
desire, reflection, hope, fear, would be similarly and equally
faulty as to name . Yorkshire, Sujfollc, Wales, et~., as parts
of Great Britain. We may map out mind or any other
spiritual or abstract theme, and can thus' observe t e general
law of method applicable to all description. · ·-'
In description proper, it is at once _noticeable that the leading kinds of attributes lie in so many distinct fields. To mingle together attributes of quality and attribUtes of relation
indiscriminately would be in fatal violation of method. ' In
the first place, the internal attributes, or those of property,
are mor~ broadly separated from the . external at~ributes, ' or

i"r·

......

81

those of condition and relation. Hence, method requires
·that the internal attributes be presented by themselves ; the
external by themselves. In like manner, the attributes of
quality should not be intermingled with those of action ; nor,
again, those of conditi.on with those of relation. The work
of invention generally, indeed, will proceed more easily and
more securely if the eye be caused to pass over these several
fields of attributes separately and sticcessively, so that the
search shall be directed undistractedly; now after attributes
of quali£y by themselves, then after those lying in the other
1
fields.
!!'As in every kind of Explanation, indeed in every presentation of thought, the smaller should always be exhibited in
the larger whole to which they belong. To present the
towns of Engla~d confusedly with the towns of Scotland or
of Wales, in a spacial description of Great Br£tain, or to
present the geologi'cal parts confusedly with the politi'cal,
would be in violation of the most fundamental principle of
~l method.

~ 86. The Law of Completeness requires that all the
• spacial parts or all the attributes requisite for the description be presented, so that whatever set of parts or
of attributes be taken, the survey from that point of
view may take in the whole field.
EXERCISES IN DESCRIPTION.

1. Describe spacially the following themes : The zodiac ;
Italy; Prussia; Belgium; Gibraltar; the Temple of Solomon ; a tree ; a flower; a locomotive ; t.he electric telegraph ;
the British Parliament ; the science of chemistry ; printing;
a well-cultivated mind; the character of George ·washington; the modern scholar.
2. Describe by attributes of quality the following themes:
The elephant ; the llama ; the upas-tree ; the diamond ;
6

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. EXPLANATION.

Cato ; Horace ; Samuel Johnson; Hannah· More ; Byrori ;
true manhood ; genius ; politeness ; the true patriot.
3. D escribe by attributes of action the following themes :
Electricity ; hydrogen; ozone; steam ; a forgiving spirit ;
free institutions ; national literature ; commerce ; inflation
of paper currency ; national indebtedness ; a spirit of candor ; skepticism ; self-reliance. ·
4. D escribe l>y attributes of condition the following themes :
The Turkish empire ; the temporal power of the Pope ; vegetation in spring ; the civilization of the last half ofthe nineteenth century ; the arts ; the science of mind ! the human
race in .the age .of Solomon.
1
••
·
'·
· 5. Describe l>y attributes of relation .the following themes :
Egypt in respect to the in'stitutions of Moses ; Greece in respect to art and religion ; RoI)'.le in· respect to justice and
law ; the .Crusades in respect to international intercourse ;
Christianity in respect to other religions ; cultivated taste in
respect to national morals and freedom ; antiquity in respect
to the present age ; commerce in respect to agriculture ; frequency of popular elections in respect to hereditary rule.

.

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CHAPTER
OF

·.rv.

DIVISION.

§ 87. D1vISION is that process of explanation which
exhiiloiits the the me through its specific or similar parts .
This process often gives the leading departments of a discourse ; and the more subordinate development of the theme
under the principal departments in all discourse is effected
to a great extent through this process. In truth this process
and the next to be exhibited~ partition - stand in about
·1 the same relation to the construction of discourse in which
multiplication and division stand to arithmetical computation generally. Of not less service in securing faci lity and
accuracy in writing are these two processes than those two
arithmetical rules in all kinds of computation. Richness
and fullness of thought, quickness and· fertility of invention,
are the immediate fruit of skill in these processes. Two
eminent w riters in English literature, differiug greatly in
other respects, exemplify alike the ready command of these
analy tic processes in unfolding thought, - Dr. Barrow and
Thomas D e Quincey. A close examination of the writings
of these authors, and especially of those of Dr. Barrow, will
reveal a training of thought, however unconscious, in thi~
direction that is most admirable, and most worthy of imitation by all who covet power in thinking.

§ 88. THE THEM E in Division is ever a class, and
its parts are denoted by the log ical t e rms species, vari·
etie~,

individuals.

'··

84

011 DIVISION.

EXPLANATTON.

The first thing, accordingly, to be done in . explaining by
this process is. to obtain a firm grasp · of the theme as a
generic whole - as a class.
The parts of a class - species, varieties, individuals ---'stand in the relation of subordination to one another; species being higher than variety, and lower than class ; variety
next higher than individuals. There , arc, of course, manifold intermediate divisions. Natural History, which furnishes the best exemplifications of Division, makes use of
the following distinctions, and even others than these, in subdivision · of one or other of these named, as sub-class, for
there i.s no necessary limit in thoaght to them in number :
Kingdom, Class,. Order or Family, Tribe, · Genus, Species,
Variety, Individual. "This last is the lowest part attainable
in Division, and canno_t be subdivided. · ·
The theme is either simple, that is a class of outward and
•' sensible objects, or abstract, that is, a, class of .internal and
spiritual objects.
,-

§ 89. T .h e Law of Unity in Division requires that
the theme be a single class, and that all the pa rts in
each set be given by one principle of division.

I -

I

By principle of dtvision is meant the attribute or complement of attributes in respect of which the division ' is made.
This will, perhaps, be better understood by recurring to the
logical genesis of "all generic forms of thought - the logical
account of the origin· of all classes in thought. Every such
form of thought, every class, then, arises by .combining, the
subjects of different judgments having the same predicate.
Thus the class of objects denoted by the term. man is formcrl
from judgments having primitively individu:ils as subjects
with a common predicate, - John is rational animal, James
is rational animal, Peter is rational animal, and then combining these several subjects, and marking the combination
by applying a single name, rnan. Man is now a class includ-.
ing ~l~. pbjec~ h_avi~g t~e attribute of rational animal. , ~To
. '{: • .

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. . :: ·•

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8£>

explain man as such a class would be simply to name the
individuals which, as subjects of the several primitive judgments, -John, James, P eter, - ·were combined to form the
class. These subjects which are thus comlUned into a class,
it should be remarked, are not limited to individuals; they
may be varieties, or species, that is, previo~s combinations
into classes of individual subjects ; but, whether individuals or classes they are combined only as they have the
oame predicate, that is, the same attribute or complement
of attributes. The principle of division, now, is this common ati-ribute or complement of attributes. Inasmuch as
the same class of objects may have a great diversity of attributes ali"'e belonging to each of the class, the necessity
arises, in order to that distinctness which is the one obj ect of explanation, of fixing upon one or another of these
several attributes, and naming the parts - the species, the
varie~ies, or the individuals - given by that one. Otherwis.~ the result would be only confusion. Thus man has the
attribute of color belonging to the class as a part of the attribute animal; also, the attribute intelligent as a part of the
attribute rati'onal. The confused division of the class at the
same time into species with reference to color and species with
reference to intelligence, giving as the result black rnen, ignomnt men, white rnen, tawny men, would be no proper explanation. The attribute color should be the principle of division for one explanation; the attribute intelli"gence for another.
Nothing forbids a seeond division under ano ther principle or
attribute subordinate to the· first. But in the same single
division there should be but one principle. · This principle of
division is ever tp be found in some attribute that was the
common predicate in the judgments from which the class
was formed by combining the subjects.
The principle of division, then, must be single; and it is
ever to be found in some attribute of the theme. After apprehending the theme as a generic whole or class composed
of. different subjects of such judgments as have a common

~r

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87

EXPLANATION:

OF DIVISION •

the next thing is· to apprehend the particular composite attribute which is to furnish the single principle of
divisfon. · We have thus the next law, that of Selection in
division, as formally stated in the following section:

When it is necessary to carry the explanation to a furth<'j
degree than the first division, !._he principle selected for the
successive subdivisions may be the same as in the higher
division, or it may be different. In the subdivisions, also,
the principle of division will vary with the more specific design in that part of the discourse. It is, however, always
the design of the discourse, not any thing in the nature of
thought, that governs the selection.
•

pr~dicate,

§ 90. The Law of Selection in Division requires that
· such attribute of the theme be selected as the principle of division, and that such subdivisions shall be
given as shall best subserve the particular design of
the discourse.
For different objects in writing, it is obvious, different sets
bf parts will need to. be exhibited. For one purpose, the
theme man would be explained 'through the different species
or varieties given by the attribute - rational, such as logical,
msthetic, or practical,· as thinkers, artists, benefactors ; as
karned, rude ; as ci; ilized, barbarous ; for another purpose
through species given by the attribute animal, which is an·. other part of the composite attribute rational animal belonging to the class man, such as sanguine, bilious, lymphat·ic,
black, white, tawny, and the like ; for another purpose through
species given by an attribute of condition, as young, old, African, Asiatic, European, American, Australian, and the like ;
or still again thr~ugh species given by an attribute of relation, as citizens, aliens, sl.aves, freemen, and the like. As .
the purposes of discourse vary indefinitely,so the principle
of division will vary. Aptness Ip seize the principle of
division and to effect the division correctly and fully umler
it, perhaps more than any other specific capability, marlrn
the degree of ability in the construction of. discourse. And
this aptness, it may be again remarked, is ·the result of _intelligent practice, precisely as the musician's aptness in using
the elements of melody, harmony, modulation, force, is the
fruit of careful training. It may be so perfect as to seem
instinctive - genius; it is nevertheless, as is all skill every-

wh"I

p~u:t of intolligent, di~•llnin•~g p•aotioe.

§ 91. The Law of Method in Division requires that
the su~divisions, or the lower grades of parts, be presented under the higher ~pecies to which they respectively belofig.
The order of subordination in the different gradations
given by division appears in the enumeration under·§ 88, the
highest being kingdom, the next sub-lcingdom, then, class,
sub-class, etc.
•The strictest logical method of proceeding hi division, and
that which should ·be practiced carefully and thoroughly, is
what is called in logic dichotomous, or in two parts, the one
of which is complementary of the other. These parts are
contradictory" to each other and exhaust the theme. Thus a
dichotomous division of man, under the attribute rational, is
into rational and irrational,· intelligent, and non-intelligent
or ignorant. Each of these first two parts is then taken as
a whole to be divided; and is separated into two parts, the
one of which is complementary of the other ; and so on successively, as far as the subdivisions are carried. It is frequently the case that language does not furnish suitable
expressions for denoting the higher species. In such cases
such species are often omitted in the enumeration. Sometimes, too, the purposes of the discourse require only the
distinct mention of certain of the parts given in a complete
division. Thus we often find divisions with three parts instead of two. Angles, for instance, are completely divided
into ri9ht, acute, and obtuse. But a strictly logical dichoto-

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•

EXPLANATION.

rqous .division fully expressed would have given as the first
division right and not-right; tJ!is last species being subdivided
into acute ·and obtuse, these varieties being complementary
of each other and making up the whole species not-right. A
good exemplification of a strict dichotomous division with
omission in the final result of the distinct me11tion of parts
. really given in the process but afterward subdivided, and
therefore not nee.ding to be enumel'ated, may be taken from
Aristotle's divisions of the grounds . of human action cont.ained in Book II. chapter x. of his Rhetoric. All things,
he says, are done by men eithe·r not of themselres or of tlzemselces. Of things not done by men of the:mselves,'some they
do from necessity, others they do of chance. Of those done
from necessity, a part are from external force; the ~thers ·a re
from force of natural constitution. So that all that men do
not of -themselves are either of chance, or from nature, or from
force. On the other hand, what they do of themselves are
partly through habit, partly through impulse; and these last,
partly through rational impulse or will, and partly tl1rough
irrational impidse, which is either anger or appetite. So
that all things whatsoever men do, they of necessity do on
seven grounds, - chance, force, natural constitution, habit,
reason, anger, appetite.
· The law of method in all single division, is that of
subprdination. _If, however, in the same discourse for any
purpose divisions be needful into· two or mol·e sets of parts,
that is, on two or more principles of division\ then · the law
of method in reference to the arrangement Of these di vers
sets of parts, is that of coordination, which requires that the
various sets of parts be kept by themselves. If it happen,
as it has been remarked it often doe's happen, that language
furnishes no convenient designations for the higher parts,
then the lower parts must be grouped together, and not intermingled with those of other sets. Thus it would he in
violation of this law of coordination to present the parts of
angles as . acute, ·right, and obtuse ; or of man as intel/,igent,
·
·
sanguine, bilious, cesthetic, etc.

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OF DIVISION.

89

~ 92. The Law of Compl eteness in Divi sion requires
that all the parts which make up tlie class un<ler the
assumed principle of division be presente<l; and that
such successive subdivisions be given as the purpose or
· occasion of the discourse may prescribe.

There would be no full entire explanation obviously, if auy
coordinate part were omitted in the di vision. This part
of the law of completeness 'in division is definite and peremptory in all discourse, for the thought would not be complete otherwise. But as to the other part of the law which
respects the number of successive subdivisions, it is evident
that as there is no limit in thought to the number of such sub<livisions, only the occasion of the discourse can furnish a
limit.
EXERCISES IN DIVISION.

1. Divide the theme, man, as a species, on the principle of
division giv"'en '1; tlte attribute of quality, color ; also, by the
attribute of a_ction, pursuit or occupation ; also, by that of
condition, country ; also, by that of relation, rule or domination.
2. Divide the animal kingdom in respect of the attri'.bitte
of quality, structure ; also, in respect of tlze att1·ibute of condition, place of life.
3. D ivide plants in respect of attributes of quality and of
condition.
4. Divide winds in respect of condition of time.
5. D ivide governments in respect of attribute of freedom.
6. Divide sciences in respect of attributes of relati:on: (1.)
their matter; (2.) their utility.
7. Divide mental phenomena in respect of relation of
primitive or consequent.
· 8. D ivide duties in respect of relation of object ; also, in
respeet of priority of obligation.
9. Divide .tlte following themes in respect of some attribute

90

EXPLANATION.

of quality, action, condition, and relation: Languages ; arts;
poetry ; history ; virtues ; instincts ; races of men.
10. Divide the carnivorous family ; the ruminants ; the
thrushes; the mollusks; insects; flowering shrubs ; the lilies;
the rocks; the metals; physical forces; colors; the al.kalies ;.
•resins ; cognitions ; feelings ; human societies ; forms oL religion ; civilizations ; govetnments ; laws ; customs ; tenures
of property ; fine arts ; object~ of thought; attributes ; occupations ; mechanic arts ; divisions · of time ; educational
institutions ; wars ; international alliances ; human relationships ; social conditions ; diversities of genius ; systems of
unbelief; monotheistic systems ; phases of religious character; influences on the formation ·of character. ,:.:-: :: ·
·

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CHAPTER V.
OF PARTITION.

§ 93. PARTITION is thaj; process of explanation which
exhibits the theme through its component attributes.
~

Language furnishes only to a limited extent peculiar forms
of expression to distillguish a logical subject-form of thought
from a predicate-form. JJ;Ian is a proper subject-word - a
class-noun; but we habitually use the word to denote a complement of attributes, as synonymous with humanity. Indeed, Logic instructs us .in interpreting such a simple propos'ition as man is mortal, that we may equally interpret man
as a term in comprehensive quantity or as a term in extensive quantity-:- tuat is, equally as a term denoting a certain
union of attributes, or as one denoting a certain union of individual objects. Thus we may interpret it : man is as to
one of his attributes mortal; or man is one species of the
class mortal. Humanity is a proper attribute-word. It is,
however, allowably used to denote the combination of subjects
to which the attribute it expresses belongs. In Division, as
we have seen, the theme, however expressed, is ever to be
viewed as a subject-word denoting a class - is. ever to be
taken, logically speaking, in its extensive quantity; a11d the
parts through which the theme is explained are similar parts,
that can be designated by such terms as species, varieties, individuals. In l?artition, on the other hand, the theme is ever
to be viewed as an attribute-word - is to be viewed, in other
· wortls, in its comprehensive or intensive quantity. It is ever
a composite attribute, a complement of attributes ; and the
parts are in the broader partition other composite attributes

92

OF PARTITION.

EXPLANATION.

or complements of attributes, and in the narrowest and ultimate partition simple_ attribu tes that cannot in our thought
be further analyzed. In explaining man,,. thus, by partition,
we must take the word as an !J.ttribute-word - as synonymous with humanity in its broader sense, as denoting all that
·properly belongs to. man. We niust further regard it as a
composite attribute, containing in it other component attributes ; and the process of partition consistS in a proper exhibition of these component attributes. Man, for example,
is composed of the attributes· rational and animal. We
have so far explained man when1 we have presen~d these
component attributes. But we may g~ further and · explain
rational in the same way. Rational is composed of intelligence, sensibility, will. Ea~h of these, still further, may be
viewed as a composite attribute and be resolved by ·another
partition.
" ·
'
Such is a general view of the nature of this process. It
is essentially different from analysis by division. They .a1:e
·as much unlike as the arithmetical processes of Reduction of
Fractions and Involution ; and the thinker and writer who
should undertake to explain a theme in ignorance of the distinction would fall ~nto as great confusion and trouble as an
arithmetician who should confound a fraction with a root of
a number.

Partiti~n· i~·

§ 94. THE THEME in
ever an \attribute
· containing in it other component attributes.
It is either an external and sensible attribute, or an
internal and spiritual attribute.
§ 95. The Law of Unity in Partition requires that
the theme be a single complement of attributes ; and
that the parts that are attained in the partition be all
attributes of one subj11ct.
·
.
~ the first part of this law of partition requiring · single-'_
ness m the
;theIJ?.e as. one complement. of attributes,-no further
. ,
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93

illustration is necessary. The second part of the law 18 the
logical principle of congruence applied to discourse. 'Ita
necessity and validity are grounded in the nature of the
theme, as ever a product of the faculty of thought consisting
in the union of attributes found to belong to the same individual object. In more precise and technical phrase, the
object of thought which forms the theme in partition .is the
combination of the predicates of several judgments having
Uie same subject. In the analysis of the theme, accordingly,
~s a complement of attributes that have been found in several
judgments to belong to the same subject, we violate the
very nature ,of the theme if we bring in attributes that do
not belong to it. There would be little danger of thi s,
however, were it not that language uses the same term
or the same form of expression for denoting very diverse
kinds of attributes. It becomes necessary, therefore, to con·
fine the enumeration of parts within that particular view
which is taken of the theme. If man, thus, is taken as a
theme to be explained by partition as a complement of attributes belonging to the subject in physiological views, we
must not mix up in one partition physiological attributes with
those of :rwother kind, as social, political, etc. Unir.y requires
us ever tt?\keep within that particular circle of attributes of .
which the theme is taken at the time to be composed.
· It does not lie within the scope of a general. rhetoric to
unfold its principles to each one severally of all the possible
objects of discourse. It cannot, therefore, legitimately uudertake to specify the different kinds of attributes of which
a theme may be regarded as composed, so as to lay down the
special application of the law of unity to every such view of
the theme. It can only accept from Logic the enumeration
of the different kinds of attributes and enjoin a careful discrimination of these leading kinds, that unity may not be violated by confounding them. These have already bee11 stated
to be foU:r in number: Qualities, Actions, Conditions, and
Relations; . the first" two being called Essential Attributes or

- 94

EXPLANATION. ·

OF PARTITION.

Properties ; the two last being Relative Attributes. Of the
Essential Attributes or Prope~ties, Qualities belong to an object so far as it is viewed as a substance; and Actions, so far
as it is viewed as a cause. Of the Relative Attributes, those
of Condition belong to the object so far as it is viewed in its
relations to space and time, and derivatively so far as it is
modified in space or time, as sleep, health, which are relative
attributes of condition; while the attributes of Relation proper
belong to an object so far as it is viewed in connection with
other objects.
,. .
.
The Law of Unity, in its stricter application; forbids the
intermingling of these attributes ·confusedly together. In
order. to correctness,' facility, and freedom of invention, the
mind must move on in clear discrimination of these several
classes of attributes, and shun mingling the attributes of an object so far as a substance with its attributes so far as a cause;
as also mingling attributes of condition with attributes of
relation. Skill and dexterity in constructing discourse, as
also perfection in the discourse itself when constructed, depend on the observance of the principle of unity as thus
applied in partition. Much time and practice devoted to the
partition .of themes in respect of their general classes of
attributes will be most abundantly remunerated in the in. creased facility with which the · progressive deve~opment of
an object of thought will proceed after such training. · Abundant practice here is as needful as in a ground-rule of arithmetic. For not only does partition furnish the great leading
heads of discourse, but, as before observed, all along in eve1y
part of the discussion this process is to he applied, precisely
as the arithmetical rule of involution not only is the governing rule in some simpler arithmetical problems, but in more
complicated problems is to be incidentally applied here and
there in different stages of the solution. It may be observed
in reiteration, that the two rhetorical processes of Division
and Partition bear to each other a relation analogous in · im-

poi:ta~ce

r:

~~;t, btween - t~e _two : arith~eti~1 -_::o:er~s~8-o~ ..-·~~

'

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,......

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95

e; olution and involution. Not to be practically familin.r
with the differences between .them is as fatal to correct and
facile thought in invention as to confound evoln~i.011 '.md involution in computation. So the different motl1hcat10ns of
partition in reference to the four different kind~ of attrib~~s,
_it is as important for the writer to be practically fa~1linr
with them as for the mathematical analyst to be pract1cnlly
familiar with the differ~nt modes of evolving .numbers of
"' different powers.
~ 96. The Law of Selection in Partition require!!
that such a class of attributes belonging to the theme
and such narrower partitions be given as the particular
object of the discourse shall prescribe.
As elsewhere, the Law of Selection here looks directly t:>
the object and occasion of the discourse. It is necessary to
inquire of that, both what shall be the selection, and how f~r
it shall @oceed in the p artitio~ of succ.essi.ve grad~s.~f.attn­
butes. l"'he limit here is not m the objective poss1b1ht1~s o~
thought, but only in the subjective capa~ities of the individual mind or the allowances of the occasion. The law applies as well to the process when employed in the progr~ssive
development of the theme in the discussio~ ~~ to the' prnna?
laying out of the subject in the larg~r d1v'.s1011~. n:e pal ticular object at that stage of the d1scuss1011 m wh1.ch the
partition is to be employed, must de~ermive th~ select1011. .
So, likewise, in the determinat10n of winch .anddhow
many of the four generic kinds of attributes ment10ne are
to be employed, whether in the first laying out o'.. the theme
or in the subsequent development of some pa1·t of it, we mt'.st
look to the especial object of the discourse, or of the discussion at that particular stage, for the guiding principle . •

0

.

§ 97. The Law of Method in Partition requires that
the attributes in each several set be presented by th em sel~es, and that the 'simpler attributes be placed in connection with those of which they are the immediate parts.

OF

In respect to the.· arrangement of the attributes that ~re
obtained by the partition, whether, for instance, the attributes
of Quality, or those of Relation, should b~ placed first, the
guiding principle must be found in the accidental characteristics of the discourse, - a.s those of the theme, the occasion,
the hearers, the object of the discourse, - not in the essential
nature of thought. The law of t~ought requires that the
attributes of each several class be presented in connection
with one another; it forbids, for instance, that attributes of
quality should be intermingled with those of action, or those
of either of these classe~ with those pf condition or relation.
This is the law of coordination ; and the other part of the
law, requiring that when the partition is carried beyond the
constituent attributes of the first degree, the iiivolved attributes thus obtained be arranged under the more comprehensive attributes of which they are parts, is the law of
involution, corresponding to that of subordination in division.

•

.··~
\

EXERCISES IN PARTITION.

1. .Analyze by partition the theme humanity as an attribute
of quality-in other words, so far as comp1:elwnding attributes
of quality; also, as comprehending attrilnttes of action ; al,so,
.. as compreltend'ng attributes of condition; and moreover, of
·_. relation.~~ - .: '\-.-. '.,,
. .;.-{.--= ~,~~~:~

97

2. Analyze intelligence, as a comprehensive attribute of
quality ; also, as one of action.
'3, Analyze barbarism, as attribute of quality, and also as
one of relation.
4. Analyze patriotism into component attributes of qua/,ity
and of action.
· 5. Analyze politen~_ss 'into attributes of quality and of
action.
6. Analyze gratitude into attributes of quality and relation.
7 .. Analyze mercy into attributes of action and r.elation .
8. Analyze dc:::~!Q.n as attribute of action and relation.
9. Analyze tfte following themes into two or more classes of
att1ibutes: Contrition ; contempt; mirth; manliness; beauty;
loyalty ; malignity ; comity ; genius ; docility ; credulity ;
foresight; raciness; forgiveness ; wisdom ; justice; confidence.

§ 98. The Law of Completeness in Partition requires
that a ll the attributes that make up th e theme in the
particular view taken of it, be presented; and tl1at the
more minute partitions be given to the extent that the
purposes or occasion of the discourse shall prescribe.
As in division, so here, it is to be : remarked that while
thought itself imposes the necessity of completeness ·~n the
enumeration of all9the parts making up the theme, it admits
an indefinite extension of the process in analyzing into minuter parts. The limit here must be found consequently in
the occasions or objects of the discourse.

l'A~TITION.

•

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OF EXEMPLIFICATION.

CHAPTER VI.
OF EXEMPLIFICATION.

I

§ 99. ExEMPLIF~CATION js that process of explan.a-

·/

•

ation which exhibits ~he thema ~hrough one of its
--$pecific parts.
-·
This process differs from Divisfon in this, that instead o~
presenting all _the specific parts that make up the theme, ~t
presents only one. The logical validity of the pro.cess· IS
seen at once in the very nature of a class· or a generic form
of thou"ht as shown in the previous chapter_on Division.
This fo;m ~f thought, as there shown, arises by combining
more or less subjects of different judgments having the ~a~e·.
predicate, or wh_a t amounts to the same thing, by com~mmg
more or less ·individual objects having a common attnbute. Every individual in .the class, or, to speak generally, the
whole class consequently have this common attribute, - the
whole generic form of the thought must have this pommon
predicate. By taking, therefore, any ~ndividual of. tl~e class
and indicating the attribute in that which has c~nst1tt\ted the
common · base in forming the class; we explam the class.
Exemplification, accordingly, is founded o~ the_ same rel~­
tionship in thought as Division - the relat10nsh1p of a ~ol/i1cal whole to its parts. But the movement of thought IS m
the opposite direction, as we look here at the whole from the
part; there, at the parts from the whole.
Exemwification is one of the most interesting and effective processes of Explanation, and at the same time one of ,
the mos~ fr~~~ar . and coru~on. Instruction in Nat~ral -

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H'.story and Experimental science is chiefly giren through
t.h1s pr_ocess. _ The naturalist in explaining n11y class of ob·
Jects Ill Nature as substances, exhibits one of the class M ri
spe~imen. The botanist explains a whole genus, a species, a
variety of p~nts by showing the one property in an i11diviu11al
plant which~s the common property of the class. The wholo
class is known When that generic property which •Was tho
base of the classification, which as such characterizes the
class, - when that common attribute is. known. In lik~
manner, in experimental scien~e, the nature of an object as
a cause, in other words, the working of a force or power, is
explained by exhibiting a single instance of'its workin(l' in
.
an experiment.
The chemist explains thus the nature" of
heat :;is a cause or force expanding material bodies, by exhibiting the working - the influence of heat on the lenoth or
.
"
the diameter of an iron rod. The experiment here does in
reference to the object as cause, what the specimen does in
natural history in reference to the object as substance. The
exhibition of a quality in one of a class of substances, explains the whole class of substances combined on the basis
of that quality; and the exhibition of an action, a force
acting, in an object viewed as cause, explains the whole class
of objects as causes combined on the basis of that actiug
force. .The range and extent of this process are commenS\lrate with the classifications possible to human thought.
Whatever can be viewed as generic, as a class, can be explained through it. It is the earliest process of instruction.
Nature, Providence, man, all teach through example, and
begin their teachiongs with it after the first knowledge both
rude and crude, both unscientific and incomplete, which mere
perception and intuition impart.

. § 100. THE THEME in Exemplification is ever a
generic form of thought, - a class, as in Division.
It is either simple, that is outward and sensible, or
abstract,. that is internal and spiritual.

101

EXPLANATION;

OF EXEMPLIFICATION.

The first thing, accordingly; to be done in exemplification,
is to se~e firmly in thought the theme as a generic object
or class, and then to view it as that which is to be explained
by the common attribute of the class as found· in an individual specimen or experiment.
It is obvious that the process is equally applicable to
spiritual ·and abstract objects as to material and sensible; to
objects classed in respect to attributes of condition and of relation as to those .classed in respect to attributes of quality
and action.
,
In exemplification, thus, ; general principle of conduct is
explained by the ex4ibition 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 martyr 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 circulation of the sap in vegetation is explained by an exhibition of it in a single plant.
-· ·

the one proposed for the discourse ; and also forbids mingling together two or more examples to explain tl1e th mo.
If, for illustration, the theme forl'itude were to he cxplaintJ<l
by exemplification in the case of Regulus, and the exhibition
of the attribute in tlie story of Regulus were to run off into tho
presentation of manners an~ customs prevalent in Rome or
Carthage, however well exemplified in the story, the first
part of the law of unity, which requires singleness in tho
theni'::, ~.:mld be violated. And the second part, requiring
singleness in the example, would be violated, if other instances of fortitude, although partaking of common characteristics, were adduced besides that of Regulus. If other such
examples are to be given, they should be treated as distinct
exemplifications, or confusion and distraction must result.
It is to be observed that not uncommonly the theme, as a
class, is to be explained only in respect to a part of the composite attribute that char.acterizes the class, - one or more
of the component attributes that make up this common classcharacter. In this case, the principle of unity requires that
the example be exhibited only as having that one of these component attributes. It would be in violation of unity, thus, in
explaining gol.d in respect of the general property of specific
gravity, to present the specimens for the purpose of showing
its ductility or other property.

100

§ 101. The Law of Unity in Exemplificatio~ requires singleness in the theme as a class, and also
singleness in the individual part which is taken as the
example.
This law, like all the others applied to this and the other
processes of explanation, must of course be interpreted as
applied to a single process. Nothing forbids repeating the
process in the same discourse. We may .accordingly, in perfect consistency with rhetorical unity, in the same discourse
introduce divers examples in explanation of the same theme.
But the law forbids, alike, using the example, except incidentally and subserviently,_to explain any other theme than
i

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§ 102. The law of Selection in Exemplification requires that that one of the class constituting the theme
be taken as the example, which shall best exhibit in the
circumstances of the discourse the common attribute of
the class.
In the application of this law, reference being ever had in
it to the object of the discourse, the mind addressed must
needs be consulted. What will engage the attention aud excite the interest ·of an immature mind and be within its capacity to co~prehend, might be of no interest to a mind informed and disciplined. The . occasion, also, the various cir-

102

EXPLANATION.

OF EXEMPLIFICATION.

103

cumstances of condition, will need to be 'consulted in the selection of the particular example ; as well as, also, the writer's
·. own intellectual command of his theme, and the individual
objects through which it may be exemplified.

exerCises should be carefully criticized in reference to each
of the general la""s of explanation.

§ 103. The Law of Method in Exemplification applies to the arrangement either when more than one
example is introduced, where the method in Division is
to be observed, or when more than a single attribute
is to be exhibited, where the method in Partition is
to be observed. I

1. Exemplify the theme plant, in respect of its mtribu.ie of
g~, by the example of a vine.
· ·2. Exemplify the. theme intelligence, in respect of its attribute of growth, by the same exampk.
· 3. Exemplify gravitation by the revolution of a planet.
4. Exemplify instinct by the bee.
5. Exemplify patriotism by the story of Regulus.
6. Exemplify filial affection in Ruth.
7, Exemplify philanthropy in Howard.
8. Exemplify luxury in Rome.
9. Exemplify by instances to be sekcted, the following tl1emes:

In all processes of explanation applied to logical wholes, the artificial wholes of though~,- the two logical laws of coordination and subordination in subject-wholes, that is in extensive quantity, constitute the principles of method; while in
attribute-wholes, that is in comprehensive quantity, the analogous laws of coordination and involution give the principles
of method. Inasmuch as we may exemplify a class through
one or more individuals of the class and also in respect to
one or more of the attributes of the class, we cati at once
recognize the grounds of .the twofold character of the law
of method. · If more than one example be presented, the
laws of coordination and subordination apply; if the exemplification be extende~ beyond a single attri.bute, the l~ws of
coordination and involution have application.
\

§ 104. The Law of Completeness in Exemplification requires that all the examples and all the component attributes be presented which are necessary to exhibit the entire composite attribute cha~acterizing the
theme as a class.
- ·
No illustration either of this law or of that of method seems '
to be necessary. The distinct and formal mention of them
is given that they may be ever kept before the mind in per- ·
forming the exercise. - The general remark may be repeated
here that in training to the construction of discourse, all the _-:

EXERCISES IN EXEMl'LH'ICATION.

Fickleness of fortune ; danger of parleying with temptation ;
growth of corruption in republics ; timidity of guilt; respect
for law in free republics ; force of example ; female heroi5m;
insecurity of arbitrary power; power of habit; the rewards
of honesty.

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.1J
CHAPTER VII.
OF COMP.ARi&ON .AND CONTRAST.

§ 105. COMPARISON AND CoNTRAST
is that process
1
of explanation ".l'hich exhibits the theme in the light of
its resemblances or differences in reference to another
1
object of the same class. •.
: -,~ ;.
· The precise relationship in which this process stands to the
other processes of explanation, it will not be difficult, after
the expositions that have been given of those others, to determine. The first two of those processes, narration and
description, respect objects as they are given us by the faculties of original cognition - perception and intuition. The,
other four respect cognitions that are the pure product of
thought, being formed py the combination of the subjects of
several judgments having a common predicate, or of the predicates of judgments having a common subject; in other
words, by the combination into classes of objects ha~ing a
common attribute, or into a composite attribute, of attt~butes
belonging to a common object. Notions so formed byi combination, may be explained by exhibiting the individual obj ects which, being combined, formed the class, or the simple
attributes which by their union formed the ' composite attribute. In the one case, we have the process called Division ;
in the other case, that called Partition. But it is obvious
that the class may be explained by the indication of the common attribute of the class as it is found in some individual
of the class familiarly known. This process is Exemplification. Still . further, it is obvious that the individuals

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OF COMPARISON AND CONTRAST.

105

which compose the class must ham some nttrilrnto or 11tlributes in common; in respect of which they so far rcsc.mblo
one another. The indication of this common nttributo in
one of the class is so far an explanation of any other of tl10
class, the attribute in one being the same as in the other.
This process is rhetorical Comparison. But as no two ob~are alike in all respects, any two in a class must h11.vc
· differences as well as resemblances ; and the indication of
these differences is a kind of negative explanation. 'TI1is
process is rhetorical Contrast.
Besides these processes, it is clear that there can be no
others, unless, indeed, there be modifications of one or another of these, or a notion given us by some other faculty than
those named,-.,..- the perceptive, the intuitive, and the discursive. Some psychologists, indeed, seem to have reckoned among the faculties of the intelligence, also, the faculty
of imagination. But the objects that come into our minds
through the agency of this faculty, are simply the wholes of
form, the three constituent elements of which are the idea,
embodied in the form, the matter in which it is embodied,
and the embodiment itself as the act of the imagination.
The nature of this process, so far as it demands consideration
in an art of rhetoric, will be discussed elsewhere. But so
far as a product of this faculty is a theme for explanation, it
seems unnecess~ry to make it the ground of admitting a distinct process, for any important rhetorical purpose. Besides,
the present immature condition of psychological science in
reference to this faculty forbids any proper treatment in the
art of rhetoric which presupposes psychological science as
settled, and grounds itself upon it. It must suffice simply to
indicate this other kind of whole in thought which the processes enumerated do not directly respect.
~ 106. In Comparison the theme is explained b.v tho
exhibition in another individual belonging to the class
of the attribute.or attributes common to the class, the

106

107

EXPLANATION.

OF COMPARISON AND CONTRAST.

attention being turned on the resemblances between the
two.
In Contrast, the theme is explained by the exhibition
in another individual belonging to the class of the attribute or attributes which do not belong in common to
them, the attention being turned on the differences between the two.
·
In other words, the process is by Comparison when
the resemblances are given in the explanation; by
Contrast, when the differences are presented.

Virtue and vice are compared or contrasted directly when
represented as moral states rcscrnbli11g or differing from ench
oth_e r in respect of their essential character or properties.
As virtue, thus, implies intelligence an<l free choice, so also
does vice. But as virtue consists in a regar<l paid to the princ~f rectitude, vice consists in a disregard of them.
:l'hey 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.

The chief magistracy ~f a republic may thus be explained
in comparison by an exhibition of the functions, relations, and
influences of the kingly office in unlimited monarchy, so far
as 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 ; t.he
pr.::sident 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 siID:ilar cau~es, etc.
They may be contrasted in · their opposite .natures an~ in:Hu1
,.
.
ences.

This character of the theme suggests at once the necessity
of apprehending the theme in this light in order to recognize
the attribute or attributes belonging to the class through
which the theme is to be explained. The first thing to be
done in undertaking explanatiou by this process, is to get a
clear notion of the class to which the two oLjecLci of thought
compared and contrasted alike bei.>ng. The common attributes that belong to the class will be the resemblances or
points of comparison ; the others will be the differences or
particulars of contrast.

·~

'.:;-.

§ 107. In Comparison and Contr~st; the resemblance
in the one case and the opposition in ' the other may
lie in the con.~tituent natures, the properties of the objects compared or contrasted,
in the relations which
they sustain. In the former case the process is denominated DIRECT COMPARISON AND CONTRAST ; in the
latter case, it is denominated ANALOGICAL COMPARISON' ,.
.AND CONTRtST, or generally, ANALOGY.
._ ,- .~J;~;(>

or

§ 108. THE THEME in Comparison and Contrast is
ever a part of a class, - a species, a variety, or an individual.

§ 109. The Law of Unity in Comparison and Contrast requires, besides singleness in the th eme, singlen ess also in the other part of the class through which it
is explained.
This law is not to be understood as requiring strictly in<lividuals in the theme and in the object through which it is explained. They must be single parts - single species, single
varieties, or individuals. The logical principle in which the
law is grounded, is that any part of a generic whole may be
represented by any complementary part. The planet Uranus, thus, may be explained through any other one or through

.-

108

OF COllIPARISON AND CONTRAST.

EXPLANATION. •·

all the other8 of the class planets, as shining by reflected
light, revolving round tlte Sun, etc. But unity would be destroyed by varying either the theme or the object or group
of objects with which the theme is compared or contrasted.

§ 110. The Law of Selection in Comparison and
Contrast requires that such object or objects in tht:J
class to which the theme belongs, and such attributes
of reselllblance or differ ence be s~lected as will best accomplish the end of the discours~.
This law, as in the case of the otqer processes, looking to
the end or object of the discourse, or: the regulative principle
in the selection, embraces the consideration of the writer's
capacity, the capacity of the mind addressed, and the occasion of the discourse.
In applying the law, it may be suggested here, those objects in the same class as the theme which are most unlike
it should generally be selected in comparison ; while in contrast, those most like it are to be preferred. The reason is,
that when there are relatively but few points of resemblance
in comparison, or of difference in contrast, the attention is
more easily fastened upon them and is less distracted and
embarrassed than if the great multitude of attributes were
·
crowded at the same time upon it.

Cornpari~on

§ 111. The Law · of Method in
and .
Contrast requires that the more specific proc~sses by
exhibition of r esemblances in Comparison, and of differences in Contrast, and also of attributes of property in
Direct, and of those of relation in Analogical Comparison and Contrast, be distinctly presented.

.·:'it

.

then all the direct differences. But where direct and analogical resemblances and differences are exhibited together, they
should be presented in such a way that there shall be no
liability to confusion or mistake.

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;: § 112. The Law of Completeness in Comparison
f"nd Contrast requires that so many r esemblances an<l
differences, direct and analogical, be presented, as shall
be necessary fully to explain the theme.
EXERCISES IN COMPARISON AND CONTRAST.

i

~;

109

......

1. Compare in respect of properties or attrilnttes of quality
and action, electricity and magnetism.
2. Compare in respect of essential attributes, the British
Parliament and the Congress of the United States.
3. Compare music and painting.
4. Compare reason and instinct.
· 5. _Compare hope and fear.
6. Compare a state and a family.
7. Compare wisdom and learning.
8. Compare science and art. .
9. Compare logic and ethics.
10. Contrast eaclt of tlte above pairs of objects.
11. Compare and contrast plant-life and an imal life; air
and water ; heat and light ; desire and will ; imagination and
taste; architecture and sculpture; Judaism and Christianity;
Homer and Dante ; Chaucer and Gower ; Spenser and Milton ; Pope and Cowper ; Schiller and Goethe ; talent and
genius.

This law does not forbid presenting together both the direct resemblances and indirect, in regard to the same attribute, or even the resemblances and differences as to any one
attribute, instead of invariably presenting all the direct resemblances in respect of all the points of comparison,. and

I

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'

OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION, ETC.

able or an unfavorable disposition may arise in the minds
of the hearers.

. .~1

It is less often the case in explanatory than in any . other
species of discourse that this kind of introduction is necessary.
sfr it will be well ever to inquire whether from any of the
so1:,rces enumerated there can arise any feeling or opinion
unfavorable to the full understanding of the discussion, or
any interest to be awakened from any one of them that shall
secure a more earnest attention.

CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN EXPLANATORY
DISCOURSE. I

§ 115. THE PERORATION in explanatory discourse
niay be in any of the particular forms enumerated in

§ 113. THE ExPLANAToRY lNTRonucT10N, § e2, will
often be useful in this species of discourse for the purpose of bringing the theme more directly before 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 the history is to treat, to describe the country itself geographically
which the people inhabit. Such a geographical description
may also help the reader to understand the narrative itself.
The introduction might also properly explain the mode of
constructing the history.
.
·
In a description of the virtu~ o~ " discretion,". an e~pl~na­
tory introduction may usefully md1cate the relat10n of this to
other virtues, or exhibit an occasion of its exercise for 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 practicing the virtue, as that the whole description shall
be more fully and correctly understood.

111

§ 64.

< .

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 fonn 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.
The peroration persuasive will address the theme or
some view taken of it to the will as an inducement to
·some act.
§ 116. If various forms of the peroration be employed,
the principle laid down in § 51 requires that the respective forms employed succeed each other in the order
in which they are stated in the preceding section.

§ 114. THE INTRODUCTION ' CoNCILIATORY will respect the occl1-sion of the discourse, the theme itself, the
mode of discussing it, or the speaker personally; as it <_
is evident that from these various sources either a favor- -

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GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

11 3

mortal," may be stated in the form of " the immortality of
the soul."
ii::

\

PART II. -CONFIRMATION.

CHAPTER I.
GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

§ 117. IN CoNFIRMATION, the object of discourse is
to convince ; in other words, to lead to a new belief or
judgment, or to modify one already existing in the mind.
Here lies the essential difference between explanation and
confirmation. While both processes address the understanding, the former seeks to produce a new or different notion or
conception, the latter, a new or different belief or judgment.

f
I

§ 118. As ajudgment is ever expressed in a logical
proposition, the theme in Confirmation must ever be
such as will admit of being expressed in the form of a
logical proposition, the truth · of which is to\ be established in the mind of the hearer. · · \ ·
In this respect confirmatory discourse differs from all other ·
kinds, as .in those the theme .is ;always ·a notion or conception.
·· '
It may be observed here that while the theme in confirmation must always admit of being ·expressed in the form of a
logical proposition, having subject, predicate, and copula, and
so far as stated must imply this, it is not necessary always
that it be actually expressed in discourse in the strict technical form of such a proposition. Thus the theme of a discourse, the object of which is to prove that " the soul is im-

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§.119. Confirmation in. rh~tor~cal inven~ion agrees
/; with the process of Investigat10n m the particulars that
both processes properly respect a judgment, and thnt
both are controlled by the same logical principles. It .
differs from Investigation in the respect that the judgment is already 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.
In undertaking the work of confirmation or convincing, the
speaker must of course know the matter of the judgment
which he is to establish. He must be regarded, also, as belie~ng it himself and of course as knowing the evidence on
which it rests. He professes this in undertaking to convince.
He must know, thus, both the matter of the proposition and
its truth.
In investigation, on the other hand, it may be wholly unknown whether there is such a truth as the 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 be ascertained arnl
proved in the very process of investigation. The mathematical analyst, thus, applies to an assumed formula certain processes by which its members are changed in their form, an1l
comes thus to new truths - to truths, perhaps, of which ho
had never dreamed until they stood out proved before his eye.
More commonly, however, in investigation the truth is at
least guessed at, or conceivea as possible. The matter of the
· judgment is before the mind, and the process of invest igation
consist.s,in" the discovery of the proof on which the truth of
it rests.
Confirmation employs the results of this discovery for tho
8

•
114

CONFIRMATION.

GENERAL INTROD UCT OR Y \'J E W.

it is p~rceived to rest and by the statc of th c mind in
which it is entertained, both as it respec ts its feel in gs ,
and its opinions on other related suLj ects.

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
invention in confirmation. For it is the proper office of invention 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.

§ 120. The mind addressed in Confirmation ·may be
reaai·ded
as in either one of three different states; e ither
0
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.
' -- . ··
·
·

to

115

efl'he distribution of proofs in regrml to their r<'!!JM'<'livo
1
.P0wer in commanding belief will be exhibited in Chap. 1 V.

§ 122. As in Explanation, so still more in Confirmation it is requisite that the speaker r egard the taste, th e
opinions, and the fe elings of his h earers ; not merely
in the exordium and the peroration, but also in the gen-eral conduct of the discourse.

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The speaker will need ever
have distinc\ regard to
this diversity of mental state in his he_arers, and\ ahv~ys_ to
know whether he is to produce an entirely new conv1ct10n
or to strengthen or remove one already existing. _Different
kinds of arguments often, or a different arrangement of them
even when the same in kind, will ?e requisite in the di.!1'erent
cases.
§ 121. Belief admits of degrees; and · may vary
from a faint probability to absolute certainty. The degree of belief in regard to a given proposition will be
affected both by the character of the eviden~~ <:>11 w_hich

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OF THE THEME IN CONFIRMATION •

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•
CH.APTER II.

ways be expressed in a logical proposition with. its subject,
copula, and predicate ; as, " Property ougltt, or ouglit not to
be, mad~ a test in tlte extension of the rigltt of suffrage."

1%§ 124. While the proposition to be proved should
i ways 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
~earer.

OF THE THEME IN CONFIRl\'1.A.TION.

§ 123. As the Theme jn this species of discourse is
ever a judgment, it will always admit of being expressed in a logical proposition (§ 118).
The ancient rhetoricians carefully distinguished between
the general subject or theme of the discourse:;- the particular question discussed arising out of the theme, and the
point on which the question turned. Quintilian, thus, in his
work De Institutione Oratoria, Book Third, distinguishes the
thesis or causa from the qucestio and both from the status
causce. Common language recognizes a . like distinction.
We speak of the suqject of discussion, the question raised,
and the point at_issue. The subject of a given discussion, we
might thus say, was " T!te right of suffrage." The question
raised was, " Ought suffrage to be universal? " The point at
issue, on which the question was made to turn) was, " Ought
1
property to be made a test in the extension of this privi"tege ? "
These terms are not, however, used with great precision.
Notwithstanding this looseness, it may be correct to say that
the subject indicates nothing in regard to the object of the
discourse, whether it be to explain, 'confirm, excite, or persuade ; the question, while it indicates the object of the discourse, does not determine necessarily the one point on which
the decision shall turn ; the point at issue determines all
these.
Confirmation, so far as it is concerned in the exhibition of
proof, looks directly at the point at issue. · .And th.is may al-

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If no reason appear to the contrary, both facility of
. apprehension and the increase of interest felt in knowing exactly what is under discussion require that the
proposition be stated to the hearers at the outset.
When, however, the proposition is complex, embracing several parts, both clearness and interest may be
promoted by the successive statement of the seveml
parts.
If there be a repugnance to any discussion of tho
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 established, likewise, it is sometimes better to postpone the
direct formal statement of the proposition, and merely
indicate at first the subject, or propose the question for
investigation.

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CHAPTER Ill.

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OF PROOF.

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§ 125.

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effects .its object- conviction
- by the exhibition of those conceptions or judgments
on which the proposition to be confirmed depends ·; in other words, JlY THE EXHIBITION OF PROOF.
CONFIRMATION

. 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 ord~r. If arson be defined
to be "the maiicious setting fire to any thing combustible
whereby human life is endangered," then, if in the case supposed, the setting fire b~ admitted .to be. mapciou~, an<l a
dwelling was consumed m consequence, the proof is ma~e
out on exhibiting the essential constituents of al-son. So m
proving faith- to be a virtue, I have only to a~alyze faith a~d
exhibit its component parts as a moral exercise put forth m
accordance with an intellectual assent to truth. The terms
of the proposition faith and virtue being understood, the
mind instantly passes into a belief of the proposition. This
process, according to the universally admitted use. of language, is rightly denominated proof; although this ~erm
may have been by some writers and in some cases restricted
in its application to that species of reasoning in which the
conclusion depends on judgments. . The iqiportance of this

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OF PROOF.

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distinction in regard to the means of proof will be seen in
the classification of arguments.
(
It follows from the view of confirmation presented in this
. ~ection that invention in this part of discourse will consist
mainly i:q finding proof.
·
It should be remarked that while the distinctive work of
confirmation consists in exhibiting proof, the mere exhihi. tion of proof is not to be regarded as all that enters iuto
this process, as will be seen more specifically in a following
section.
In confirmatory discourse, accordingly, proof constitutes
the body of discussion (§ 57).

§ 126. Proof is either

DIRECT

or

INDIRECT.

It is

direct, 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 latter case it is called RI<:FU'l'ATION.

§ 127. A complex proposition, embracing several
constituent propositions, may be proved by the separate and successive proof of each constitue nt part.
Although sometimes a complex proposition may best he
proved without such analysis and separate proof of tho
parts, as, for instance, when the proofs are applicable alike
to every part, still generally lt will prevent confusion ao<l
conduce to clearness and force in the reasoning to analyze
the proposition and establish each part separately. In order
to secure this advantage the woposition should be carefully
studied at the outset, to see whether it be complex or not,
and if complex, whether the proof can be best applied to the
whole or to each part separately.
A proposition may be sometimes best analyzed through tho
subject, sometimes through the predicate, sometim<:>s thrn11gh
both. Further, the aualysi8 may be either by division or by
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CONFIRMATION.

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partition. The proposition, Free institutions are favorable
literature, may be analyzed for proof, thus, through the
subject free institutions ; as, (1.) Free political institutions
are favorable to literature ; (2.) Free religioµs institutions
are favorable to literature; (3.) Free educational ip.stitutions
are favorable to literature; ( 4.) Free social institutions are
favorable to literature : or, through the predicate, - Free institutions are favorable (1.) to oratory; (2.) to poetry; (3.)
to scientific discussion; ( 4.) to history; (5.) to criticism.

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§ 128. The work of proving a particular si~ple
proposition or a complex proposition regarded as simple,
so far as invention is concerned, consists in the selection
and arrangement of t he proofs on which assent to the
proposition depends. · T his part of rhetorical invention
was denominated by the ancients "THE TOPICAL ART,"
or " ';I'HE ToPICs."
T his 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. .Aristotl~ 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 that ha~e led to the
neglect of the department of invention generally. It forms
a necessary, constituent part of this branch of rhetoric. A
distinct view of the Topics will accordingly be presented in
the following chapter.

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CH.APTER IV.
\ :. OF THE TOPICS.

§ 129. IT is the object of the Topical art to facilitate
· and guide rhetorical invention in confirmation by a
distribution of the different kinds of proofs into general classes.
The name originally signifies places, -r6rrot ; the Latin of
which was loci. The whole field of proofs was divided off
into .several parts, to which the invention was directed as the
seats or places of arguments. They were hence called sometimes sedes argumentorum. The topics proper constituted a
species of the wci communes, which included not only arguments but truths used for illustration, embellishment, or other
purposes. in discourse, and are generally by the ancient writers thus distinguished from the topics proper.
The specific practical utility of a system of topics consists
chiefly in the following particulars, namely :
1. It facilitates the search for proof generally ; inasmuch
as it exhibits in systematic arrangement the few general
dasses into which all possible ·proofs may be reduced. The
search is thus rendered direct, definite, and intelligent.
2. By. the distribution of proofs into classes according to
the intrinsic nature of the proofs, the topics show at once
the comparative weight and value of the different arguments
that bear upon the same question . The selection iR thus
. made easy; certain kinds of sophistry, and those of the
most dangerous kind, are at once detected; and the number
of arguments necessary in a given case is evinced. As will

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CONFIRMATION.

OF TUE TOPICS.

appear more clearly hereafter, some propositions can he
proved only by a certain class of arguments. The arguments of one class, moreover, are intrinsically more weighty
than those of another. 8ome compel belief irresistibly,
others only establish a degree of probability greater 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 the whole field of arguments successively, they
furnish the means of a more thorough and familiar acquaintance with their respective nature and ·use.

for this affirmed addition must be sought out of the proposition.
.Analytic proofs correspond very nearly, but not exactly,
to those. denominated by Aristotle and Cicero intn"1ulc.
They include, thus, the species of argumenta enumerated by
them from definition; from t!te relation of species and gc1111s ;
frQm partition or enumeration of parts. They do not
e.mbrace, however, all those which are derived from thi11gs
bearing some affinity to t!te matter of the propos·ition. ludeed, they take in but a part of one variety of this species,
namely, that from conjugates or words derived from the same
root.*

§ 130. The first general division of proofa is into
those wh ich are given in the very terms of the proposition to be proved, and those which are to be sought

it.

out of
The former class may be denominated
the latter SYNTHETIC proofs.

"
ANALYTIC,

.All propositions, susceptible of proof, contain the proof
within themselves, or depend on some truth or cbnception
out of thomsolves. The former class are denomit1ated by
logicians analytic, the latter syntheti"c propositions. The
proposition all trees are organic is anal;rtic, since from the
very analysis of the terms trees and organic, .the conceptions
are given on which the truth of the p1;oposition; rests... So
likewise, the proposition dueling is murder is analytic, as an
analysis of the terms furnish es the proof.
On the other hand, the proposition dueling is a relic of
barbarism is synthet!c, si11ce . here no analysis of terms
would furnish the proof of the tru th ail1rmed . .. Something
is added to the suLject in the predicate aml the · gr?_uud

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§ 131. Analytic proofs, being derived from tlic very
terms of the proposition, n eed not, for any practical
purpose of invention be further subdivid ed ; tliP search
being at once definitely directed and the weight and
relation of all argum ents of this class being indicated
· in the very nature of analytic proofs as such.
The terms of the proposition may Le analyzed by partition or by division , and the character of the proof will
vary in a certain respect with the nature of the proposition.
But it is obviously of no importance how the :u1:tlpis is
made or what is the form of the proof thus obtained so far
as it respects any purpos.e of invention.

§ 132. Analytic proofs carry with them tho l1ig li cst
validity 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, tho proposition is only to be pl:m·<l
before the mind and assen t is necessary. There may ho
need of proof of other kinds to show that the te rm.~ of tho
proposition actually contain the conceptions or t:ruths on
which the truth of the proposition depends. But these con• See Cic. T op. 2-4 .

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CONFIRMATION.

OF THE TOPICS.

ceptions being admitted tooe there, the exhibition of them
compels assent. In proving that the malicious setting fire
to an outhouse whereby a dwelling is accidentally consumed
is arson, it may be necessary to prove, by testimony or
otherwise, that arson necessarily includes the idea of malice,
the overt act of setting fire, the endangering of human life.
But if these are admitted to be constituent ideas of the complex notion arson, the proof is conclusive.

and numerical figures or alphabetical symbols which we
often or generally make use of in mathcm:iticnl rcarnn ing,
merely facilitate our mental operations. A Newton or a
Pascal could reason out the theorem indepcnrlcntly of ~uch
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 reasoning be more or less
simple or brief. 1 No mere analysis of the terms of the proposition, however, can give the proof. The mind intuitively,
neces_sarily, adds the predicate to the subject. The quotient
of a b divided by a is seen unavoidably by every one so
soon-as he understands what is meant by the statement. Y ct
no mere analysis could give the proof. 'Vhilc they arc
therefore in their very nature distinguishable from analytic
proofs, being apprehended 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, like analytic proofs, need no subdivision. They
include among others· all those proofs which constitute what
are called in logic immediate reasonings, such as logical conversion of terms, restriction, transference of quality, hypothetical and disjunctive syllogisms.

§ 133. The principle of this most generic division ,..
of proofs into analytic and synthetic indicates the first
step to be taken in .the invention of arguments. It is,
.study carefully the terms of tlie proposition itself.
This is a fundamental and all-important rule in all confirmation. Many questions, not to 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 in different
aspects. But even where the question is viewed in the
same 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 question in
all. possi~le lights, fur~shed with the fes t help\ and guides
to rnvent1on.
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§ 134. Synthetic proofs, being derived from without
the proposition, are either such as are given by the
mind itself acting under the necessary laws of its being,
or such as are derived from without the mind.
The former species may be denominated INTUITIVE;
the latter, EMPIRICAL proofs.
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In demonstrating the truth of a mathematical proposition
we can trace out the steps from the premise to the ·conclusion rthout aid from, external - proof. The diagrams

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§ 135. Ipt~itive, lik.e analytic proofs, possess apoclictic
or ·demonstrative certamty.
Unless there be inaccuracy in the application of them,
they must always compel assent. Hence, it would be entirely unnecessary for conviction to advance any other nrguments, were it not that, in the first place, there may he
suspicion of inaccuracy in the application of the proof; :lilt!,
secondly, that the human mind has passions as well n~ intellectual powers, and in respect to both is suhjcct to tl10
laws of habit, and hence

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OF THE TOl'ICS.

CONFIRMATION.
" convinced against its will
Is of the same opinion still."

Hence the necessity of superadding other proofs; mainly
that the native love of truth may have opportunity of rising
by the contemplation of proof and triumphing over prejudice
and aversion.

§ 136. Empirical proofs are divided into three general classes: I. ANTECEDENT PROBABILITY; II. SrnNs.

III.

EXAMPLES.

The grounds of this classification may be thus exhibited.
The empirical is either substance or cause. Empirical proofs,
consequently, are those which lie in those relations of thought
which are proper to an object viewed a·s substance or those
proper to an object viewed as cause. The essential relations
proper to a substance are those of substance and attribute ;
those proper to a cause are cause and effect; attributes being
logical parts of a substance-whole, and effects logical parts of
a causal whole. Now as all the movements of thought are in
the relations of wholes and parts, and as these movements lie
in one or the other of the two coordinate relations, either between whole and part, or between part and complementary
part, we have two general movements of thought, - the one
between the whole and the part, called the ded?tctive : the
other between the part and complementary part,\ called the
inductive. But under the general deductive mov'~ment we
have two specific forms of thought, as we may think in either
direction from the whole to the part or from the part to the
whole. It is plain that if there is a whole there are parts,
and if there is a part there is a whole of which it is a part.
If, for instance, we can exhibit a whole - man - as rational,
· we can exhibit it as proof that a part of that whole, say ~Hot­
tentot, is rational. Or in the causal relation, if we can exhibit
the sun as em-th-illuminating, we can use that as proof that
the sun must illuminate any part of the earth. as New Holland, that is turned towards the sun. We may likewis_e r!lason
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127

from a part to tho whole; wo may in for a substance, an 11g·
gregate of attributes from a single attribute recognized but
as a part; or infer a cause from :ui clfoct.. The existence of
an attribute proves a substance ; the existence of an effoct
proves a cause. "\Ve have thus under tlic general movement
of th~·ught between whole aml part, a class of proofs which
Aristotle denominated generally Signs. Furthei·, we may
infer from one part to another part. For example, if this
magnet, being a !part of a whole class of bodies called mag·
nets, 'attract, this other magnet, which is also a part of the
class, likewise attracts. This last class of proofs, from part
to complementary part, Aristotle called Examples.
- Inasmuch as there are but the two general fo rms of mediate reasonings mentioned, the deductive and the i11ductive,
we can recognize but these two general classes of empiricu.l
proofs, each however admitting di vers subtlivisious.
Mediate reasonings are in Logic termed syllo;;i:sms. Wilen
fully expressed, they necessarily require two propositio11s
·called premises, which together constitute what is called the
antecedent of the reasoning, and a third proposition, which is
the consequent or conclusion; and there can be but these
three propositions in any simple syllogism. The reason of
this is, that in every mediate reasoning, in every syllogism,
we attain the conclusion which asserts a relation between its
terms - its subject and predicate - only as we see a like
relation between each of these terms and a third term. This
relation between each .of these terms and the third term respectively, is expressed in the two premises. But in discourse
it is seldom necessary to set forth in form both of the premises, the other being readily supplied in thought. Thus in the
syllogism or mediate reasoning, All magnets attract iron;
_tltis body is a magnet ; therefore, this body attracts -iron,
either premise may remain unexpressed, as it would bo sufficient to -argue, This is a magnet; therefore, it attrac/s
iron ,·
All magnets attract iron ; therefore, tltis body attracts iron. Every one would readily supply the suppressed

or,

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OF TH E TOPI CS.

premise in the first case, all magnets attract iron ; and, in ~e
second case, this body is a magnet. A mediate reasoning f1 ~s
incompletely expressed, if deductive, is called an enthymeme,
- a Greek word, signifying something in the mind, something
understood.
In the same way, in the inductive syllogism, either premise
may be suppressed ; as, in the syllogism fully stated, This
magnet attracts iron; that newfound mineral is a magnet ;
therefore, that newfound mineral attracts iron, we may give
the . conclusion, This newfound, mineral attracts iron, with
either premise added, to the exclusion of the other, for this
magnet attracts iron, or, for this newfound mineral is a magnet. The incompletely expressed inductive syllogism is in
rhetoric called an example ; as Aristotle in his " Rhetoric,''
Book I. Chapter 2, teaches : " Syllogism is in rhetoric the
enthymeme, and induction the example.''
·
It may be observed here that that term which appears in
the expressed premise, and does not appear in the conclu-.
sion, is often called the argument. Thus in the example
given above of au enthymeme, the term appearing in the
expressed premise but not in the conclusion is the whole
class magnet. This is the argument in the reasoning. Argumentation is accordingly well explained to mean using the
middle term in discourse, that is, using it in its ~roper relations to the two terms of a proposition as a grou d of their
agreement or disagreement.
Further, signs, as the term was used by Aristotle, the father
of Rhetoric as of Logic, being rt;asonings in the general
relationship of whole and part, and, as .already observed, the
movement of thought being indifferent in either direction,
either from the whole to the part or from the part to the
whole, as the occasions of our thinking may dictate, we have
a twofold distinction of signs. When we reason from the
whole to the part, the proof has been called by some modern
writers an antecedent probability proof, but is more familiarly known under the name of a priori proof; and the term

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sfgn, also more familiarly k11 ow 11 nR a pnsfl'riori, hM b._~ n
restricted to the other mon•meut, or to that from the pi1rt
to the whole. The name of tho first clnss is ol>jectionulilo
both because it is a clumsy word, and nlso 1because it is too
n ar~ow in its scope. It seems to exclude ah reasonings in a
whole of substance or attribute, and to embrace on ly events,
things happening or becoming; in other words, only reasonings in a causal whole. The origin of the nomenclature
seems to ~ave \, lain in a strange misinterpret.at.ion of Aristotle. Yet in his "Prior Analytics," Book ll. Chapter 2!l,
Aristotle in express terms includes under signs both kinds of
. whole, - substance and cause, - both attribut e-relations am!
events; and in his "Rhetoric," his exampl es may, as is very
often the case; be interpreted either as in tho one or as in
the other relation. As no exactly appropriate term is iu
use., however, the uncouth designation antecedent problflii'!ity,
or what is little better, a priori, may be retain ed. But it
must be understood that these are names derived from a part
only of this class of proofs - those which respect events while they really embrace the two classes, causal wholes,
composed of events, and substance-wholes, composed of attributes. Thus in the enthymeme, Caius is mortal f or he 1:s a
man, the proof lies not in a causal whole, does not respect
an event, but lies in a whole of substance, and respects an
attribute mortal as belonging to Caius or to the arg11mc11t
man. The terms sign and a posteriori have been used in
like error as if applicable to proofs in causal whol es only.
Indeed, logicians and rhetoricians .have in general fail ccl to
distinguish the movemen ts of thought in the relations of substance and attribute from those in the causal relations.
There is . no occasion for subdividin'g the second gre:it
class of proofa - Examples - in respect to the alternative
direction in which the thought may move, for here the relation is ever between part and part. In the sign the alternative 'm ovement was between whole and part, being either
from whole to part or from part to whole:
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CONFIRMATION.

OF THE TOPICS.

We have thns the three general classes of empirical
proofs named, Antecedent Probability, otherwise called a priori proofs ; Signs, otherwise called a p-0steriori proofs, and
Examples.
·

of rhetorical science, and therefore ou Iy descriptions cnn
be given without names for the several varieties.

§ .;l.38. From a given substance there may be inferred both the aggregate of its attributes an<l also nny
one attribute.
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§ 137. ANTECEDENT PROBABILITY, or A PRIORI
proofs, are those in which an attribute is inferred from
a given substance, or an effect from a cause.
In this kind of proofs, as indeed in .all empirical proofs,
the fundamental truth is assumed that every substance has
its proper attributes, and every cause its ·proper effects, as a
n~cessi_ty of our thinking. Wherever, accordingly, we recogmze a substance, we are authorized to infer its proper attributes; and wherever we recognize a cause, to infer its
proper effects. As these two relations, of substance to its attributes on the one hand, aud of cause to its effects on the
other, are not only in themselves radically differeut, but are
also expressed, in all their multitudinous ·modifications in
thought, in ways more or less different in language, it will
greatly facilitate il:lvention in all argumentative discourse to
make the distinction practically familiar by habituating the ,
thought to seek out proofs in the two different fields in consciously distinct efforts, by inquiring first · what ~roofs the
one relation will furnish; and then what the other will furnish. .When the mind has trained itself to pursu~ these inquiries thus distinctly with readiness, it will, on the occasions
of actual argumentation, be likely at once and without conscious effort to enter the field which will yield the proofs
most effective for its purposes at the time. At all events,
. its searches for proofs will be more likely to be ready, thorough, and successful.
·
These two more generic kinds of antecedent probability
proofs compl'ise <livers subdivisions. Of·these the hi{)'her
0
and more comn_ion varieties will be described. Language
has not yet furmshed a full nomenclature in this·department

"t•'

From the existence of man, thus, we infer all that can be
attributed to man as essential to his being as -man, - that
there is reason, that there is animal body. Not only this, hut
any constituent atti!bute of either of these composite attributes down to the last degree ; as, for instance, that there is
intelligence, feeling, will; that there is perception, intuition,
thought; that there are, moreover, all material attributes, and
also organization ; that there is, further, life, growt/1, etc.,
· etc., in short any one of all the manifold capacities and
qualities inherent in man, as man. The proof is equally
valid whether we stop with the first and highest gradation
or with any subsequent and lower gradation ; and also
whether we choose to infer all or but a part or but one of
the particular constituent attributes. It is also equally valid
if we begin with some composite attribute instead of the
primitive substance, if, for instance, we begin with intelligence, and reason that there is perception because there is
intelligence ; or that there is cfrculation becat;se there is
vital organization. All proofs of this kind, so common, so
familiar, are of the same essential nature as those in which
attributes are . inferred from substance. They are all of the
deductive nature of thought, the movement of thought being
from the whole to the part. They include the proofs generally known as those which lie in the relation of a law to
what exists under it; a law in this connection being understood . to be merely a general fact. Thus it is said, It is
t!te la'lf -of material bodies that t!tey grav£tate, that t!tey m·e
heavy. Gravitation, heaviness, is the attribute, the law of
material podies. Whatever is an attribute of a class is

·132

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thus the law of the class ; it is in fact the base in part or in
whole on which the class is formed.
The relative attributes, those@f condition and of relation .,
proper, as well as the essential attributes of quality and
action, afford familiar instances of proofs of this species.
Examples of proofs of condition are : Wickliffe and Chaucer
were contemporaries, for the former died in 1384, the latter
in 1400 ; Sir Philip Sidney witnessed the massacre of St.
Bartlwwmew,- for he was then at P aris on his journey on the
Continent ; He must be unconscious of crime, for he sleeps
quietly; There is need of laborers, for the harvest is ripe.
In all of these examples we have conclusions ·founded on
attributes of condition, the first two being those of primitive
condition or of relation to time or space, the last two of
derivative condition - sleep and ripeness. The force of the
proof in each case lies in this, that the attribute which is
the matter of the proof contains or involves the truth of the
conclusion - thus in the second example, presence in P aris
during August, 1572, involving presence at the massacre
August 24th of that year, and in the last, ripeness involving
the condition of fitness for the reaper.
·
The attributes of relation proper are used in like ·frequency as proofs, · wherever one relationship involves another, - in other words, stands in the general relation to it '
of whole to part. · Thus Addison infers from th~ omnipresence of God - from this relation to men - h\s merciful
regard toward them ; the relation of personal presence, that
is, in all his attributes, involving the relation of his presence
in each of his attributes, and consequently in his attribute of
mercy. Of this variety of proot~ also, is that which Bentley
urges against the imposition of religious dogmas as articles ·
of faith, on the ground that religion lies beyond the sphere
of reason. His argument is : True reason is never deceived nor ever deceives ; therefore whatsoever is inconsistent with natural reason can never be justly imposed as an
article ·o f faith. The general attribute of reason iii its re-

OF THE TOPICS.

lation to truth - never deceived 11or dcc<'iving- i11 rnh·r
this particular attribute of reason in relation t~ all rclii,-iotU
teaching.
This, then, is a general view of the first Icatling sp<'ch'11
of a priori or antecedent probability proofs, in \vl1ich from ii
proper substance-whole we infer the aggregate of attributes, or any particular attribute, whether it lie attribute of
quality, of action, of condition, or of relation proper.
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~ 139. In the second place, from a given cause wo
may infer either the entire effect or any part of it.

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From the rise of the sap in the tree, thus, w e infer th :1t
there will be foliage, bloom, fruit, and other p:utic11l:ir,; of
vegetable growth - all or any one. The circuhtion of the
sap is, in this instance, that which we represent to 011rst·ln·s
as the cause which, unless something interfere to hi11<h·r irs
. operation, necessarily involves these effects. 80, ohsc n«:tl
diligence and integrity excite the confident expecL'lllon of
thrift and success. These are )mown causes of such 11
result.
This species of proof is frequently employed in questions
of fact. Thus, that the burning of Rome under Nero was
actually caused by that unscrupulous tyrant, is inferrcrl from
his known character. Such a man would, in working out
his proper disposition, do such a deed as that. So .l\f r. Curran, in his defense of Finney, who was tried for tn•aA011,
employed with much force the pe1jurcc1 and corrupt ch:1mcter of the informer in the case, in proof of tho groumll<o;;.~ ­
ness of the charge. Such a man would fabricate such nn
accusation. The existence of the cause, in other wort!A, is
urged by Mr. Curran in proof of the corruption and perjury
in which the false charge of treason against his client origi·
nated.

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§ 140. The proof is of the nature of an antcccdcnl
probability or a priori proof when the absence of n 11uf·

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CONFIRMATION.

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ficient operative cause is urged against the belief of a
supposed event.

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While from the laws of the mind we necessarily anticipate the appropriate effect from the observed operation of
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, np 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 of the crime in the character of the accused, yet
if there be no possible opportunity 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 of
proof in both of its forms. A single exemplification will
suffice to illustrate its natur:e and application. In the
"Goodridge case" so called, Mr. Webster 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 ; whil~, on the
other hand, he foels himself called to rebut the proof arising from the want of motive on the part of the prosecuting
witness to feign a robbery.*

§ 141. The force of any given antecedent probability proof of this species
depend on the degree
of certainty in the connection between the cause and
the effect.
·

will

• Webster's Speeches, Vol. IL In this case two men were tried on a
charge of robbery committed on the person of Goodridge, who was the pro~
ecutin~ witness. ·The main reliance of the defense was that the robbery
was a pretense.

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OF TllE TOPICS.

185

If the canse be adequate to the efft·ct and actually
operate, or no hinderanc.:e in tcrvcnc, the proof i~ ·onclusive. If, on the other hand, there Le uncertainty
whether the cause actually operate, or whether it opcr·
·ate free from hinderance or interruption, the force of
the proof will be so far impaired .
Where the proof lies in the absence of all cause for
the supposed effect, the conclusion will be more or ll'~g
certain according to the degree in which all causes or
. occasions possible in the case are excluded. ·
An important distinction is to be made between those antecedent probability proofs which are purely physical nnrl
such as are moral. A physical cause must operate wlicn
the occasion is presented. We infer with absolute ccrt:li11ty
that water exposed will freeze when the temperature is be. low the freezing point. We cannot so certainly infer tl111t n
covetous man will steal or defraud when an opportunity is
afforded ; or that a threat of vindictive passion was actually
followed by murder when occasion of executing it was presented.

§ 142. SrnNS, or A POSTERIORI proofs, are deductive
proofs in which the whole is inferred from the part, either the substance or the law from die particular attribute, or the cause from the effect.
This proof, as has been already stated, consists in a movement of' thought directly opposite to that in the form er species. There the substance or the cause wn.s given, aiul tho
attribute or the effect inferred; here the attribute or the effect is given, and the substance or the en.use is inferred. Tho
validity of the proof is obvious. It will be readily see n,
also, that the search for proofs will be greatly facilitatc1l hy
having the distinct classes familiarly present in the mirul, ~'
that the inquiry may be definitely directed over tho . several
fields successively.

136

CONFIRMATION. '

Inasmuch as all qualities of objects are made known to us
by some effect on our organs, a~d are thus known by us ...as
effects, it is generally immaterial whether we regard the
proof as one of attribute or effect, and so the conclusion as
law or cause, and it is often equally easy to represent it in
actual discourse in the one form as in the other. There is,
however, a true distinction in the respective natures of these
species of proofs.
Exemplifications of these proofs are familiar. The · mariner infers, thus, from . the increasing blue of the ocean, the
decreasing depth of the wat~r, an,d so his approximation to
the coast. We infer, too, from the .presence of ice, that the
temperature must have fallen below the freezing point. The
discovery of a bloody weapon in the hands of a man after . a
murder known to have been perpetrated by such an instru- ·
ment, is a strong sign or proof against him as the cause.
What is called circumstantial evidence in judicial procedures
is for the most part of this kind of proofs. It is often fallacious, but only because there may be divers specific causes or
antecedents of the same effect. Of the r eality of some
cause, the existence of the effect leaves no room for question ; but of the particular cause in the case there may be
room for doubt. 'When many circumstances point in the
same direction as signs of a particular cause, the concurrence
has frequently led to error. Thus, to take a sing\e instance
from the history of judicial mistakes in following circumstantial evidence ; a man of the name of Shaw was \::onvicted
and executed in Edinburgh in 1721, for the murder of his
daughter, - the signs of guilt in the case being his having
been heard to use violent language toward her for opposing
his wishes, just before she was found weltering in her blood
with a knife beside her; .her having been heard to complain
of his barbarity, and to say just as she was dying, that he
was the cause of her death ; the agitation he showed on
being brought into the presence of his daughter; and the
discovery of blood on his shirt. It was ascertained before

OF THE TOPICS.

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137

his body was taken from the gibbet, that tho cl:rngh tcr wu a
suicide, and that the agitation of tho fath er w as only n algn
of his grief and horror, 11ot of his conscious gui lt; n11d lli"
blood on his shirt was from his owu nrm, having been
· bled some days before, and therefore not from the body of
his daughter. Signs are not i11fallible proofs of nuy sup poMble law or cause, but only of some law, of some cnuS-O.
The error in this and other like cases does not lie in the inference of a cause from a given effect, but i~ the ncceptnuce
of the wrong cause.

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§ 143. Signs are proofs not only of a substance, or 11
caus.e of which they are respectively the attributes or
the effects, but also of the conditions in which the substance or the cause must have existed or operated.
Every substance must have an existence and every cause
operate in some space and time, and in concurrence wi t.h
other substances, with other causes, with other circumstances
generally. It often happens that from the attribu!.-0 or the
effect we wish to prove, not the law or the cause, but these
conditions of their existence or operation. And the proof,
it is dear, although mediate, is equally valid as the irnmeuiate proof of a law or a cause. Thus in the trial of Knapp
at Salem, Massachusetts, Mr. Webster argued from the foct
of the house having been entered without violence, tlmt there
was concert with some one who had access within, the quiet
entrance by the assassin being a sign of that condition, the concerted understanding with an inmate. Wheresoever,
accordingly, the existence of an attribute or an effect implies
an occasion or a condition of its existence or operation, it is
a sign, and valid proof of the occasion or condition.
There are a number of varieties of signs partaking of tho
character of one or the · other of the classes mention ed, both
attrib11tes and effects, and which are valid proofs both of
substance or cause, and also of occasion or condition, several

138

CONFIRMATION.

OF THE TOPICS.

of which warrant a distinct notice. Th~y will accordingly
be considered in the following sections.

§ 144.

139

'!>

is a variety of signs, the validity
of which as proof consists in this - that the testimony .
presupposes the fact testified to as the condition without which it would not have been given.
TESTIMONY

The credibility of a witness does not always depend on
his character for veracity. The testimony of a notorious
liar ;ind perjurer is sometimes conclusive ; and on this principle, that we cannot believe he should so testify - we cannot
account for his testimony, unless the events testified to were
facts. The testimony is, in other words, a sign of the facts
as condition.
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 testifies as
more or less necessary conditions of its having been given.
Whenever, therefore, occasions or motives exist in the case
for giving the testimony other than the truth, the credibility
of the witness will be so far impaired. We are thus to judge
of the 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 ~is speaking as he does. All admissions against his own sect or party,
unless 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 capability of observing come
in to affect the credibility of a witness. If these qualifications are wanting, the necessary conditions of all testimony
are wanting, and there is nothing on which the testimony can
rest.

§ 145. AUTHORITY is a variety of signs; and is ·
distinguished from testimony b.y the circ~mstance 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 men shouhl entertain t.hoso
opinions unless they were founded on truth. Jf, bowc\'cr,
we can discover the influence of other cat1ses to detenniuo
their opinions, their authority weighs less with us. Tito
opin'ions of legal tribunals, pronounced after the full est discussions on both sides by interested and able men, nn1h·r tho
solemnities of a judicial trial, are weighty authority; hel'n11>0
it is not conceivable that such opinions can rest on a11y otlil'r
foundation than truth. Such opinions are to be rl'ganl1 ·1l rui
effects which could not be supposed to have exi ste uce excq1t
on condition of truth. They are thus valid signs.
The validity of legal precedents may properly he s11hj1•l'l.-I
to this test. An independent and intelligent j111lge will fiL' t
aside a precedent on proof that the decision was deterruiucd
by other motives than love of truth or rectitude.

§ 146.

CONCURRENT TESTIMONY

AND CONCURRJrnT

belong also to this species of proofS. Th o
m ere concurrence of witnesses or judges, apart from
.all con sideration of their personal claims to credibil ity,
is a sign, often conclusive, that the fact or opinion is
truly as represented.
AUTHORITY

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

§ 147. EXAMPLES are inductive proofs which rest.on
the resemblance or the common property or relation that
exists between parts of the same whole. One is taken,
and from something found to be true of that, an in fer·
ence is drawn to one or all of the others.

140

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CONFIRMATION.

OF l'HE TOl'ICS.

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. Mr. Burke, in his Speech on the East
India Bill, sustains his charge of hypocrisy against the East
India Company by adducing as examples their treat_n ient 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; and of Colonel
Munson, General Clavering, and ~r. Francis, on the other,
whom they "ruined by their praises." To prove that the
rate of wages does not depend on the severity of the labor,. ·
but on the value of the work done, the examples ,have been
urged that a carpenter earns more than a plowman, and a
watch-maker more than either. So Hooker in his " Ecclesiastical Polity," Book III., urges an invented exalllple to show
that "we must acknowledge even heretics themselves to be,
though a maimed part, yet a part of the visible Church."
"For," he adds, "if an infidel should pursue to death a heretic professing Christianity, only for Christian profession sake,
could we deny unto him the honor of -· martyrdom ? Yet,
this honor all men 'know to be proper unto the Church.
Heretics therefore," he concludes, " are not utterly cut off
from the visible Church of Christ." Sydney Smit~ also, in
showing that mind is transmissible, urges analogic111Iy ·the
examples, that some ill-tempered horses constantly breed
ill-tempered colts, and that if the eggs of a wild duck be
hatched under a tame duck, the young brood will be much
wilder than any common brood of poultry.
The force of the example, as a proof, rests ultimately
upon the principle that the parts of the same whole are in
some respects similar, in other respects different from each
other. The two triangles formed by bisecting a square by a
diagonal are similar in so far as they participate of the whole. ,
They have sides respectively equal, they contain alike right ·
angles, for the square has equal sides anq right angles.

They are different in so far as they are parts complementary
of each other. One is at the right, the other at the left of
the bisecting diagonal ; they are different in this respect.
So, likewise, from one part of a material substance - from
one attribute, as an example - we may infer the same of
another part in respect of the common whole of which they
are attributes and the different in respect of their being complementary of each other. Thus, lnightness and roundness
are attributes of thE.I. sun, a visible body. They are alike
visible in so far as they are parts of a visible substance ;
. they are different in respect of their being complementary
of each other - one being a visible attribute of form, the
other, one of degree or intensity. In like manner iu the
case of a causal whole, any two effects are alike so far as
proceeding from the same cause, and different so far as
complementary. This is the general logical ground of
the validity in this class of proofs. It points at once to
the different leading species and also to the tests of their
validity.
As empirical proofs may be applied both to a substance
and to a cause, we have the two different species which are
distincruished
from each other as attributes and effects. It
b
•
is not necessary for practical utility further to consider tl11s
distinction already made familiar in the view we have taken
of the former classes of proofs. It is pertinent to remark
that the name, exampw, is derived rather from the causal
relation or the relation of effects to each other.
Next we have the two kinds of examples as proofs distinguished by the nature of the inference, as in the one ki11tl _
we infer the same, in the other, the different. 'Vli.ile we
accept as a principle not to be questioned that the same
cause produces ever the same effect - that" like causes work
like effects,'' we accept the correlative principle as e<1ually
unquestionable, that the same cause works different effects
in different conditions - that "circumstariceH alter ca~<·s. "
The radiation of heat changes the condition · of both tho

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body from which and of the body to which it passes ; one
is cooled, the other warmed ; one is contracted, the other
expanded. There is thus · ever a same and a different
between the two complementary effects of any operating
cause.
There is a difficulty, however, in applying the principle.
Heat, we observe, expands iron ; it contracts clay. Both
the iron and the clay change form and size; the effects
so far are the same, but they are oppos\te in character - one
being increase, the other diminution. 1 It wou~d se~m at first
view that the principle of like causes producmg like effects
fails here. But it is the presence of another cause only that
has made the difference ; the heat has expanded and so
evaporated and driven off the water in the clay, so that the
whole body now has less matter than before ; it has shrunk
under the force of heat that ever expands _the material
bodies which it enters. The difficulty that always attends the
rigid application of the principle lies precisely here~ - that
manifold causes are ever conspiring in their operation, and
we are often unable to discriminate the several effects so as
to refer them to their respective causes on the one hand, and
on the other to discriminate the several causes so as to trace
out each to its respective effect. Only so far as in the
complication of causes and effects we can connect tl~,e effect
· with its own cause, can we have decisive proof. We have
thus the first general test of the validity of examJ les as
proofs, - That the example and that of which it serves' as the
proof be connected with the same cause.
This fundamental principle of induction 1furnishes the answer to the question : How many examples are necessary to
validate the inference ? One is sufficient if but one cause can
be supposed to operate; the only necessity for others lies '.n
the fact of the great complication of causes and effects m
the world around us. Hence it is that examples must be
multiplied to eliminate all foreign causes and show the two
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OF THE TOPICS.

143

·beeri p'.·oduced by the same cause. The philologist mi«ht
?afely mfer from observing in a given language a sin:le
mstance of· a second-future tense, that this tense-form wa: a
general feature of the language, since the sincrle cause that
could have originated the use of it lies in °the primitive
nature. of the l~nguage. He could not, however, infer from
observmg that m a particular case this species of time was
expressed by auxiliaries, that the language contained no
proper tense-form for this time ; for accidental causes may
have produced exceptions to a general law.
So on~ observed ~stance of a particular metal sinking in
water might authorize the conclusion that the specific gravity
of th~ metal generally was greater than tl1at of water_ that
all pieces of the same metal would sink in the same tlniil ·
:or but one cause can here be supposed to act in determia~
mg the metal to sink. _ But one could not properly iufor
that a~l ores ~f the metal would be of grayish color, from
observrn? a ~mgle specimen of that color ; since, iu this
case, a diversity of causes may exist in different localities to
determine the color of an ore.
But as any two complementary effects of the same cause
are, as we have seen, in some respects different as well as in
other respects the same, we may as legitimately infer this different ~s the same; and we need to be guided by a valid
tes t which shall discriminate when we are to infer the same
and when the different. This test is this, -An,1/ two complementary l[/fects of the same cause are the same i"n esseutial
z:rope~ties, w~e~lier of quality or of acti"on ,- they are different
in their conditions and relati"ons to each other. ,
It is not within the proper province of rhetoric either
the one h~nd to demonstrate the validity of these principles regulatrng the use of examples as proofs, nor on the
ot~ er hand to show their application to all the diversities of
0
hJ ?cts and events presented to our experience. Its task is
fullillc~ ~y-lhe exhibition of the general grounds on which
the validity of examples as proofs rests, with sufficient illus-

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OF THE TOPICS.

trations of. their_ use' to show their proper nature, and so
guide to a ready and intelligent selection of them.
It is pertirient to remark here that 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 illustration, and
likewise for ornament. It may subserve, moreover, any two
or more of these purposes at the same time. An argument
consequently 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 had if exhibited in its, .own
form and dress, as then its weakness or unsoundness .would
have been detected. So, likewise, a solid argument may be
taken for a mere ornament or illustration.
•·

§ 148. Examples may be used as proofs of attributes, or of changes or events.
·The grounds of this general division of examples have
already been sufficiently exhibited. From the attributes of
being organized, and having a circulating system belonging to
the boughs as proofs, we infer the same attributes as belonging to the leaves or other parts of the same substance - tree.
From the effects of destitution and ignorance - of physical
and mental hunger - in degrading one community of men, as
an example, we infer the degradation · of other comhmnities
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where the same · cause ·prevails.
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§ 149. Examples may be used as proofs in relation
to one or more other parts of the same substance, or of
the same complement of attributes ; and also to one or
more other effects of the same cause.
Arguments from induction have sometimes been received
as · a distinct variety of proofs from examples. But the
movement of the thought is essentially the same. ~duction ,
is ever·frord the part to the part, as Aristotle says; ~ " not

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from part to whole, nor from whole to ·part, nor from whole
to whole ; but as part 0 part, like to like." In strictest logic it is from one of two parts to the other · complementary part;. in looser movements of thought, and generally in empirical matter, it is from one part to any one
or more of many complementary parts. But it is clear
that if the induction is valid in reference to one part, it is
equally valid in reference to any other, and so to all. As
we start 'w ith what is true of one part, and then by indu~
tion attain to what is true of the rest, we have, by putting
our antecedent and conclusion together, a truth embracing
all. Having the fact attested to us that intelligence betters
the condition of communities, so far as we are acquainted
with them, we infer from this example that it will likewise
improve the condition of other communities. We only combine the truth with which we started with that which we
have idduced, when we conclude that intelligence improves
the condition of men generally.
·

§ ·150. Examples are founded either on resemblance
of properties or on resemblance of relations. Those
of the latter kind are denominated ARGUMENTS FROM
ANALOGY.

While 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 principle gives alike to
both varieties all their force as proofs, namely, our conviction of the uniformity of Nature.

§ 151. Analogical reasoning is SIMPLE when the
two things compared bear a similar relation to a third.
As when from the relation of the earth to its uses, it is
inferred that other planets, from the same relation, may be
inhabited. Or, when it is inferred, from the fact that virtue
affects our well-being, that vice must likewise; virtue and
10

146

OF TUE TOPICS.

vice being both moral habits and dispositions, and the relation being the same - both alike affecting condition.

§ 152. '..Analogical reasoning is
different relations are introduced.

COMPLEX

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when two
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Thus it may be argued from the fact that virtue tends to
happiness, that vice must tend to misery. In this case, the
whole analogical proof rests on the similarity of relation
between virtue and vice, respectively, and welfare. This is
the generic relation. Another specific relation is introduced
as belonging to each of the terms - that of virtue to happiness, and of vice to misery. These are dissimilar relations.
It is by another principle of proof that the tendency to affect
·welfare common to virtue and vice is believed to be in the
one case salutary, in the other pernicious. This is an instance of Aristotle's argument from contraries-:-€~ €vaYTtw11.
In a compl'lx analogical argument, however, it is not
always necessary that the second relations should be to opposites. As from the relation of a seed to the plant We may
argue in respect to the relation of an egg to the fowl. The
relations of a germ to the parent and to the living product
are common to the seed and to the egg. These are the
generic relations. The spepifi~ relations of the egg to the
fowl and of the seed to the plant are dissimilar, but are not
proper opposites. Th.e force of the analogy reaches only to
the similarity or resemblance of the relations.

§ 153. Examples may be REAL or INVENTED.
Real examples, or such as are taken from actual
observation or experience, carry with them their own
evidence.
Invented examples must possess intrinsic probability
or he credible in them selves ; otherwise they evidently
can have no weight as arguments.
Aristotle instances, as an invented example, that employed

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147

by Socrates, of the mariners choosing their steersman by lot..
The case, probably, never in fact occurred ; but it clearly
might occur, and it well illustrates the possibility of the lot
falling upon an unskillful person ; aud, therefore, was a valhl
argument as used by Socrates against the 'practice, then common, of appointing magistrates by lot.
Dr. Whately has well observed that while a ·fictitious case
. which has not this intrinsic probability has absolutely no
weight . whatever, any matter of fact, on the other lia11d,
however unaccountable it may seem, has some degree of
weight in reference to a parallel case. "No satisfactory
reason,'' he proceeds to remark, "has yet been assigned for
a connection between the absence of upper 'cutting teeth, or
of the presence of horns, and rumination; but the instauccs
are so numerous and constaut of this connection, that 110
naturalist would hesitate, if on examination of a new species he found those teeth absent and the head horned, to pronounce the animal a ruminant."

§ 154. As the points of resemblance between different objects are diverse, and things most unlike may yet
have some resemblance to each other, and therefore be
embraced under the same class, it becomes important
in the use of this kind of argument, on the one hand,
carefully to set forth the particular point of resemblance on which the argument rests; and, on the oth er,
in estimating the weight of the argument to rejeet
from the estimate those points in which there is no resemblance.
While those arguments which rest on resemblances i1r obj ects most unlike are generally in themselves more striking and forcible, they are yet often sophistically invalidated
and rejected, because in most respects the objects compared
~re so dissimilar. On the other hand, no sophistry, pe rhap~,
is more co~mon than that of assuming a resemblance iu all

154 .

CONFIRMATION.

If there be an opposing belief to be set aside, it will

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be bette r to advance the stronger first, in order to
overthrow opposition at once. The w eaker may follow,
which will serve to confirm when they would be of
no avail in the first assault.
In order to leave,
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 r everse
order.
Although this principle of atrangement, 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
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 comparative strength of the arguments.

§ 160. The second principle to be r egarde d in the
arrangement of proofs r espects 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 ju<licia,l question, for example, whether certain specified acts
constitute legal murder, after . the definition of murder has
been given, the arguments from authority or "legal precedents " will obviously be more intelligible and also of more
force as confirmatory.

§ 161. This principle requires, in the second·place,

.•

OF THE ARRANGEMENT OF

ARGU~IENTS.

155

that antecedent-probability argllmcnts prec:l'd1! r.1.·ampfrs
and signs.
The example, introduced after the n11tcccdcnt-pruh nhi lity
argument, will serve both to illustrate n11d nlso to co11tirm it.
Indeed, in this order, they reflect light on ench other. 1\1 r.
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 prescnU; the
causes . in operation to produce it; then, examples of tho
operation of those causes ; and finally particular si,1ns of the
fact. The mind very readily reccives the whole stateme11t,
because, from the view of the cause, the effects are 11atnrally
anticipated.
In Dr. Barrow's discourse on the Divine Impartiality, th e
a priori arguments are with obvious propriety prcsc 111l'1 l
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 generally reputed to he
of upright charai::ter would need a strong array of proof from
signs, as testimony and the like, to substantiate it. But let
a spi rit of covetousness be first proved in him, and especially
if a single example be adduced in which that spi rit 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 fo r
such an interposition from God, and then the arguments from
testimony and the internal evidence are presenter!. But
without such cause being first shown, scarcely any amount of
testimony will be sufficient to overcome the repugnance of
the mind to believe that a miracle has been wrought.

160

.=::-.- -:;:· -- · CONFIRMATION.

· § 166. 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 favor 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 progress
of society, restricts or confines the energies of men, or injuriously affects their best interests.
The ultimate general principle on which these last particular maxims of presumption rest, seems to be this : that the
world is governed by infinite intelligence controlled by perfect r~ctitude and goodness. In respect to this, the sentiment · is true, that "whatever is, is right" ; and the proper
and the genuine results 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 la.ws of Providence is to be presumed to be true, right, or expedient, as
the case may be.

' ..

§ _1 68. BY REFUTATION, in its more limited sense, is
meant the overthrow of opposing arguments.

,

)

.

~·

-·

f..: ;; "~;

r

•

~·+

·.,_ '

~,::: ~! ...

Refutation is sometimes taken in the sense of defense generally. Thus the argument of the defendant in a judicial
trial has been denominated a refutation. But in the more
proper use of the word, refutation has been restricted to
the ._overthrow of objections or opposing arguments.

§ 169. Refutation proper consists in the overthrow
either of one of the premises on which an objection
rests, or of the conclusiveness of the reasoning.

by another, when the circumstances of the case must
determine which shall outweigh the other. \
.

• •

~·

OF REFUTATION.

§ 167. One presumption may sometimes be opposed

· Mohammedanism, thus, exists;· and so far a \ presumption
lies in its favor. With those who know of nothing existing
in incompatibility with it, and who are not informed or convinced in regard to its evil effects, pe~haps, 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 rebutter against the presumption drawn from the fact of
its existence.
·
-'

CHAPTER VII.

,. .

.,.

1

1

I
. _, l·

. While refutation is governed by the same general principles 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 arguments. Hence, a more direct call is made in it on the
logical principies for the detection of sophistical reasoning.
The overthrow of a premise falsely or incorrectly assumed
in an objection, may, indeed, be accomplished .in other
methods common to all reasoning ; but the detection of error
in the course of the reasoning is to be effected in accordance
with the principles of logic, which expose the possible modes
of sophistical argumentation.

· § 170. As all evidence does not possess the charact er of absolute certainty, it is possible, in some cases,
that there may be real evidence, or valid arguments,
11

i·1i:". l.;;~
f

162

·j'( ".' -

CONFIRMATION.

-

on both sides of the question. In such cases, it is not
indispensably necessary to refute the opposing arguments ; but it may be sufficient, while allowing them
their proper weight, to overbalance them with arguments of greater weight.
This is a principle ever to be borne in mind, that, in cases,
of probable re~soning generally, arguments really valid may
be advanced on bot_h sides. The existence of such unanswerable argi,iments 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.
~ 171. 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 essential requisites in the character of the orator. 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 perfect fairness.

~ 172. The principles of arrangement in regard to
refutation are substantially the same .as those 'which

·'

-*
i

,·

OF

REFUTATIO~.

1G3

a~ply to direct confirmation, Chnptcr V.
As trul
dm a.t e ~n cl ·mc1c
·Iental to confinnntion, however, JIJl'tlio
a~phcat10n of those principles to refutation bcconw~
slightly modified.
In .the first place, if the arguments to be refuted nro
sufficiently met 1'n tlie mam
· cl"1rect arguments, tho
pr~per place to refute them is in the course of presentation of those direct arguments.
In-the. next pl~:e, if the objections are in<lcpcn<lcn t
of the dlt'ect cham of reasoning, they should be nnsw ere~ at the commencement, if already w c i ghin~ i'n
tLe m1~d.s of the audience; and at the close, if they
are ant1c1pated as about to arise i'n tl1e mm
. <l , or arc to
be presented by an adversary.

.

~

..-:

;

CH.APTER VITI.
OF

THE

INTRODUCTION

AND

PERORATION

IN CONFIR-

MATION.

. § 173. THE Introduction Explanatory m confirmat10n may respect the proposition itself, the particular
mode of discussion to be pursued, or · some circumstances connected with the occasion of speaking.

If
~

I

I

I

I

i i
I
I

I

II

i !

II
I
I

It is ~nnecess~ry to particularize the several topics prope~
fo~ an mtroduct10n explanatory in confirmation. It is sufficient to _turn tl~e a~tention of the speaker to those general
fields of view wh1c~ 1t may b~ important for him to survey,
that he may ascertam what pomts will require elucidation in

o~·der to prepare the way for the ready apprehension of his

discourse.

1
I

. §

1'.4.

The Introduction Conciliatory in confirmation will respect the person of the .speaker a d of the
h~arer,_ the character of the proposition, the lode of
discuss10n, or the circumstances 0 { speaking. 1

§ 175. The several points in reference to the .person
of the speaker, to which attention may need to be directed in conciliation, are the ~lation of the speaker
t~ the audience, to his opponent, to the question to be
discussed, and to the occasion of speaking.
.
.
. § 176. The three. qualities requisite in the speaker ·
m reference to the audience, as prescribed by the ancients, are GOOD SENSE, GOOD PRINCIPLE, and GOOD
WILL.

.:._ -·~- ~-..........

...

l

' !

OF THE lNTlWDUCTION ANU l'EUOHAl'lOS, h"TC

llUJ

Good sense is requisite, because ttn nmlicmco will docm
itself insulted if a speaker presumes to come before ll ltttL
ill-informed in regard to the matter to bo discusse<I. Th
speaker, from his very office, professes his ability to enlighM1
and inform his audience. Negligence to obtain a propt~r un.
derstanding 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, inasmuch a.~ j ust so
far as the speaker shows himself unworthy of co11fi1lc11<'<',
will every thing he says be received with misgiving11 nn•I
suspicions; while the bare assertions of a repntc1lly honl;SL
man will often be received with the submission which is due
to actual demonstration.
If, further, the audience be convinced that tho spcahr is
actuated by good-will ·to them, all the influence of tho f.·dings over the movements of the intellect will be fovombl c to
his designs.
While general reputation or character in regard to thN!o
qualities will be most serviceable in effecting concilit1tion so
far as it depends on them, the speaker may do much in
removing an unfavorable impression from the mimls of his
hearers, or in producing one that is favorable, by his man11cr
at the time. The character of his discourse, as marked by
the particular features of intelligence, familiarity 1 with tho
subject, gravity, modesty, pure moral sentiment; by kirulness, deference, and respect for his hearers, will co11d uce
greatly · to awaken a favorable disposition in them towanl
himself. At the same time, indirect professions together
with allusions to facts in bis history which may prcsc11t his
character favorably in these respects, may be often beneficially employed.
It is obvious that the same general means are to be mrulo
use of as well when an unfavorable disposition is to be set
aside as when a favorable sentiment is to be awakened.

§ 177.

The speaker's i;elation to his opponent v.·ill

OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION, ETC.

often, in some relation which the speaker may bear to
it, affect the minds of the hearers and render necessary
suitable means of conciliation.

· need to be regarded by him, whenever the character
of his opponent in respect to the three points before
named may · influence the ·mind of the · hearer; and
also, whenever the personal relation existing between
them may favorably or unfavorably affect the disposition .of the hearer.
Ad~antage, 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 advan. tage which an opposite character may give an opponent
will need to be set aside or lessened by counter considerations.
The personal relations subsisting between the speaker and
his opponent will frequently affect the disposition of the
hearers in reference to the discourse. 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 hearers, according as it may appear to them
to have been prompted by principle or by selfishness or
malice.

§ 178. The speaker's relations to the su~ject of discussion or to · the side of the question which ~e maintains, also, may obviously present him to the udience
favorably or otherwise ; in either case, they will demand his attention.
Exemplifications of this kind of introduction are to be
found in Demosthenes' Oration on the Crown, where he
maintains his right to be heard as one equally interested
with Ctesiphon in the i;;sue of the trial; in Cicero's Oration
for Cluentius, against .whom he had preViously spoken with
great severity;· and '. in . Erskine's" speech on the trial of
Thomas Paine; _·~ '· · " ·

· - § 179./

Q~c::~ more, : the

r~-

occasion of speaking will

- ... _,._

.

167

Cicero thus in his oration against Crecilius commences
with an exposition of the reasons which induced him, who
had never before appeared except in defense, now to become
a prosecutor against Verres.

§ 180. The character of the proposition 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.

..

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, has over
his opponents, must obviously be great; and while it becomes
him to turn this advantage to good account, it is still more
necessary to his opponent to lessen, so far as practicable hy
any of the various means of conciliation, this prepossession
against himself. In the famous Orations on the Crown,
Demosthenes had to encounter the natural repugnance which
men feel against hearing a man commend his own actions ;
while 1Escbines labored under the conviction that the judges
were of the party of his adversary. Each orator, accordingly, in his introduction, endeavored to lessen the difficulty
which he bad in this respect to encounter.

§ 181. The mode of discussion imposed on the
speaker may be such as to call for some effort at conciliation in the Introduction when it requires him to
treat of topics offensive to the audience or to make
use of terms or a course of reasoning not easily inte~ligible to them.

169

E)!:.ERClSES IN CONFlRi\lATION.

In Judicial Eloquence, thus, arguments embodying ' pure
legal principles are generally uninviting and with difficulty
intelligible to a jury; and the advocate who would secure a
favorable hearing, will need to use mucl!' address and art.
So, purely metaphysical discussions on religious subjects before a popular audience generally repel and offend. Men,
moreover, are loath to hear of their own faults or weaknesses ; and the speaker who is obliged to recur to them has
reason to fear that, unless due precaution is taken, their unwillingness to hear will entirely prevent the intended effect
of his discourse.

§ 182. In the same way, the circumstances in which
the speaker appears before his audience may render
them indisposed ·to a favorable hearing, in which· .c ase
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 pf Pompey, which at first seemed Ip the
judges to be arrayed against him. ·

§ 183. Several of these varieties of Conciliatory Introduction, it may often 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 various combinations of these different kinds of introduction.

§ 184. Confirmation admits all the various kinds of
P eroration enumerated in § 64. Recapitulation, moreover, will here be especially useful.
J

E XERCISES IN CONFIRMATION. Prove the ~allow. idn~
· subuec
· t s, or their pre i·
propositions by resolving their
cates, or both: National prosperity' depends on a pure m?ral~ty. of creGeological science corroborates the Mosaic history
a tian.
The press ought to be free.
Free institutions must triumph in Europe.
Labor is a blessing.
.
Scientific culture is favorable to th~ arts.
The fine arts are favorable to morahty.
Popular favor is precarious.
Models are necessary to culture.

F;ind a priori proofs of the following propositions :
Rotation in office is expedient.
G es of chance are hurtful to character.
T::e is more happiness in a civilized than in a savage
sta;:migration should be encouraged in a new country.
Genius is irritable.
. .
.
. Levity of manners is hostile to virtue.
Self-respect wins the respect of otlf:rs.
Relaxation is necessary.
Bad manners make bad morals.
Virtue is its own reward.
•
•
Find a poster10n
prooJ,./!s oif t he J+"-ollowi"ng propositions :

The w·o rk of creation was progressiv~.. . .
The feudal system was favor~ble t~ ~mhzat10n.
The human race was _one in it~ or1gm.
.
Aaron Burr was a traitor to his country.
The book of Job was written before t?e time of l\~s~~tle
The Epistle to the Hebrews was written by the p
Paul.

-.

.. The "Iliad " a~d the " Odyssey" were composed· by Home;.
Hastmgs was guilty . of . the charges · brouuht
0
•
agamst him by Burke.
.
_· . · . . . , ,
Brutus was a true patriot.
.
The exodus of the Jews from Egypt was mira~ulous.
Mohammed was an impostor.
·

- 1_Varre~

. Find examples as proofs of tlie following proposi-

PART III.-EXCITATION.

tions:
Populous ci~ies are dangerous to national morality.
Men o~ gemus are deficient in copversational power.
. What IS once known is never wholly obliterated from the
rm~
.
.
Great diversity of pursuits is fatal to success.
Knowledge is power.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
Conscience makes cowards of us all.
Sumptuary laws are unwise.

·:1

CHAPTER I .
GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

~ 185. IN Excitation the object of discourse is to
move the feelings, either by awakening some n ew affection, or by strengthening or allaying one already
. .
ex1stmg.

.

The propriety of ranking excitation among the several
objects of discourse, and of founding upon tlils object a distinct species governed by its own laws and characterized by
peculiar features, will hardly be questi\U1ed by any who recognize the feelings or affections as a distinct class of mental
phenomena. In fact, we find a class of discourses constructed in particular reference to this object, and distinguished
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. Hei:e belongs, likewise, a
considerable part of pulpit oratory, namely, that part the
object 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 recognized in systems -of general rhetoric as one of those which give specific
character to discourse and furnish the grounds of classifica-

.... .

~-

172

EXCITATION.

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 departments 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 observed elsewhere, the . various forms of oratpry, as explanation, confirmation, excitation, and persuasion, often mingle
together, each retaining its charabtei;istic features in the same
discourse ; while, still, it remains true that one or the other
must in every case predominate and give character to the
whole discourse, and the others be only subservient to this
main design.

. § 186. Th~ work of excitation is • accomplished
either .by the appropriate presentation of the object
of feelmg merely, or by this combined with the power
of sympathy.
.
The two departments of excitation are accordincrly
'
0
'
PATHETIC Ex;p:i;._ANATION and EMPLOYMENT OF SYMPATHY.

The fe.elings, like the inte.lle?t, belong to the s~ontaneities
of the mmd ; and are only md1rectly controlled y the will.
They move necessarily more ?r less on the pres ntation of
their appropriate objects. They are, nevertheless, as phenomena 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
fact or truth. But this process is only ineidental; whereas
.· ·
explanation is the direct means of awakening feeling.

§ 187. The more general uriitv of the discourse in
excitation will consist in the singieness of the ·theme ;

/

-.

GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

173

the narrower unity, in the singleness of the feeling or
affection to be addressed.
It will be observed that the theme, a.s well as the fcelin{
addressed, may be individual or generic, - may embrace a.
single object or feeling, or a class of objects or of feelings.
Generally, where the feeling to be excited is made the germ
of development, the theme will embrace the s_everal particulars addressed to the feeling.
It is of importance to distinguish carefully between the
theme and the feeling addressed in excitation. They are not
unfrequently confounded in popular discourse. We say,
thus, in loose language, that the theme of a discourse, tho
design· of which is to awaken hope, is the affection itself hope. Properly speaking, this is the object of the discourse,
while the theme embraces the considerations presented for
the purpose of awakening the affection.

§ 188. The form of the dis!u'urse 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, t11e
discourse will have more of an explanatory form.
In a pulpit discourse, thus, the passion of J esus Christ
might be exhibited as a single fact fitted to excite various
emotions, as of gratitude, love, confidence. In this case the
development of the discourse might naturally spring from the
particular feelings addressed. They would constit'Utc accordingly the leading heads of the discourse.
On the other·hand, the same fact might be exhibitcil as
bearing, in several distinct aspects, on a single emotion or
grace of character. Then these several aspects of the fact
might naturally furnish the ground of distribution and arrangement in the discourse.
So in Panegyrics, sometimes, the character as one com-

'
174·

.,·

175

EXCITATION.

GENERAL INTRODUCTOiff VIEW.

plex whole or a single feature is presented with the design
of moving the affections generally; and sometimes a single
affection is _;iddressed by the exhibition of such . traits as are
adapted to awaken it.·

peare furnish fine exemplifications of the first of th<'SC nwthods of allaying an unfayorablc state of frl'li11g. Antony
finds the populace triumphing over th e death uf Ca'>:1r n11cl
cheering the couspirators. li e clues not nt 011cu pn.,;,•11 t hilllself in opposition. lie appears, at !ir~t, as the fril'111l of llrntus. He disclaims all intentions of praising Ca:sur. Ile thus
gets their attention, fixes it on Cmsar, and then proccccling
to speak of his faults, gradually passes to defend his character, at the same time mingling in high professions of respect
for the conspirators, till finally, the rage of the hearers at
Cresar's usurpations and tyranny having been allayed, he
presents the proper matter for turning their feelings in the
opposite direction, and leaves them clamoring furiously for the
destruction of all Cresar's enemies.
In Brutus's speech just preceding, the second of the methods indicated is exemplified, and the love of the populace for
Cresar is artfully displaced by their love to"'heir country; a
sentiment, as here;-.e':x:hibited, incompatible with attachment to
Cresar.

§ 189. In excitation it is more necessary than in explanatory or argumentative discourse .t o have regard to
the feelings of those addressed; since ignorance or mistake here may occasion an entire failure in the very
object of the discourse.
§ 190. The mind addressed may be either favorable
or unfavorable or indifferent in respect to the object of
the 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.

§ 191. 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
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 feelings, 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 Antony in the "Julius Cresar" of Shakes-

rr

..,.
;-:-·- · ...

·.

.

-·~

OF THE THEME IN EXCITATION.

produce such unin telligent excitement. It is true, indeed,
that the passions never move, except as addressed thronrrh
0
the intellect, and even in the ravings of a mob there is
some intelligence; still rational discourse will not be contented with this, but will ever aim to present distinctly the
particular object in reference to which the feelings are to
be moved.

CHAPTER II.
Ol!' THE THEME IN EXCITATION.

§ 192. As the theme in excitation is a notion or a
•
•
I
conception, it must ever appear under that form.
· If, consequently, a judgment- a fact or truth- be
presented as the object in reference to which the feelings are to be excited, it will appear in the form of a .
clause, and not in that of a principal sentence.

•

Generally language will allow the exp,~sion of a fiict or
truth, when used as a theme, in discourse, either in the form
of a verb 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 ·a dvantage to represent the theme in its Appropriate form ; as, otherWise, the mind might unconsciously be
drawn off to a proof of the fact or truth instead of a\ simple
exhibition of it for the pµrpose o( exciting feeling.

§ 193. The theme, in excitation, further, must embrace the object of the feeling addressed, or the views
which are fitted to. awaken the feeling.
.
.
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

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

I,

· The question has been much agitated, whether it be
proper at all to avow beforehand addresses to the feeli1ws.
Some writers have disapproved of all such avowals al~o­
gether. " The first and most important point to be observed
in every address to any passion, sentiment, feeling," etc., says
Dr. Whately, "is that it should not be introduced as such,
and plainly avowed ; otherwise the effect will be, in great
measure if not entirely, lost.. .. 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 purf"'i>se and drift should be, if not absolutely
concealed, yet not openly declared and made prominent.,.
Even when the sentiments to be awakened are recognized as
proper aud right, he thinks "men are not likely to be pleased
with the idea that they are not already sufficiently under the
influence of such sentiments," and "cannot but feel a degrco
of mortification in making the confession, and a kind of j ealousy of ~the apparent assumption of superiority, in a speaker,
who seems to say, 'Now I will exhort you to feel as you
ought on this occasion; I will endeavor to inspire you with
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EXCITATION.

OF THE THEME IN EXCITATION.

such noble and generous and amiable sentiments as you
ought to entertain.'"
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 avowals of intention in pure argumentative or
explanatory discourse ; as "I will instruct you to think in
accordance with truth on this subject;" " I will endeavor to
convince 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 discourse - but
against an improper form of stating it. _,
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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 object in respect to which the feelings are to be moved.
That in pronouncing a eulogy it would be imp~oper 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 would be improper for a
statesman to mention beforehand those circumstances and
facts which warrant confidence and tend to awaken courage;
that in seeking to strengthen the sentiment of Christian gratitude for the blessings of the gospel, it would be \mproper
for the preacher distinctly to propose the richness or the
freeness 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, etc.
- in other 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 Jesus Christ
to men as a ground and reason of gratitude to God ? Who .
will venture to reprehend the following statement of Demos-

thenes in his second Philippic: "First, then, Athenians, if
there be a man who feels no apprehension at the view of
Philip's power, and the extent of his conquests, who imagines that these portend no design to the state, or that his
designs are not all aimed against you, I am amazed I and
must entreat the attention of you all while I explain those
reasons briefly which induce me to entertain different expectations."
It is difficult to perceive on what different ground addresses to the feelings stand in this respect from addresses to
the understanding or reason. While in both kinds of address,
it may be unadvisable in some cases to state the theme beforehand, 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 both kinds, the speaker must
. consult the relation of the theme to the supposed state of
feeling in his audience, and by that determine as to the expediency of distinctly presenting or of withholding it.

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~ Hl5. If, however, the theme itself is likely to give
offense, then it may, in part or in whole, be kept back
till interest is awakened and a favorable disposition on
the part of the hearers secured.
~ 196. If the theme be not likely to give offense
but the feelings already entertained by the hearers in
r egard to it are opposed to the speaker's aim, the th eme
may be stated, but the particular object in presenting it
'suppressed.
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This rule is exemplified in the speech of Antouy before
alluded to, § 191.

~ 197. It may be well, moreover, for the sake of
· variety, especially in a speaker who is called frcrpw1~tly
to address the same audience, occasionally to <lcv1atc
from the general rule.

OF PATHETIC EXPLANA TIO:\.

CHAPTER III.
OF PATHETIC EXPLANATION.

§ 198. THE exhibition of rfeeling in excitation is
governed by the general principles of explanatory dis-'
course, but is modified by the particular design in this
species of discourse of moving the feelings. It is effected
any of the various processes of explanation.

by

As the ultimate aim in excitation is not to enlighten or inform the understanding, but this is done only for the sake of
. exciting the feelings, the process of explanation will need
here to be carried on. in a somewhat different manner from
that appropriate to purely explanatory discourse. The principal modifications which this difference in the ultimate aim
of the discourse will require, will be specified in the follo~ing sections.
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§ 199. As an accurate acquaintance with\ the object
embraced in the theme 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 tlie object be selected wliicli are
adapted to tlie feelings or sentiments to be awakened.
Some regard must be had, in applying this principle of
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
a view of the object us will be retained in the memory, and

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thus be long present to influence the fccliug~. Jn ot her
words, the explanation must be more full anrl cornpll'U', nm!
conform more closely to the general pri11 ciplt's of cxplruintory discourse. Thus, that kind of preaching which gi l' <'~
clear, full, and rational exhibitions of religious truth, will ho
better adapted to secure a permanent high degree of Chri stian
feeling than that which, by selecting only the more striking
views, aims at the highest degree of excitement at the moment.
The speech of Antony may be again cited here as affor(ling a happy exemplification of this principle in protlucing a
higher 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, aml n
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 .

§ 200. A second rule in Pathetic Explanation is, that
particular rather than general views be taken of the
object.

·

As vivid rather than correct impressions are aimed at in
excitation, the process of explanation will need to be modifi ed so far as to secure those stro11g and lively apprehensions
which are necessary to deep emotion.

§ 201. Thirdly, Pathetic Explanation requires that
the more prominent and striking features and outlines
be presented; while such · as are less easily apprehended, however important in an accurate representation to the understanding mer ely, are dropped from
VIeW.

The ·following extract from Sheridan's Invective against
Warren Hastings will serve to exemplify this rule. The

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OF PATHETIC EXPLANATION.

182

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EXCITATION.

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. " When 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 wounds, 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 rise· up to the throne of God, and rouse the
eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country,
will it be said that this was brought about by the incantations of these Begums in their secluded Zenana?"

§ 202. Fourth ly, in,.tead of the clear and distinct
exhibitions which are proper in mere addresses to the
understanding, it is often conducive to passionate impressiveness to leave something to the imagination of
the hearers, by only obscure and imperfect delineations.
Antony, instead of at once telling the citizens how much
Cmsar in his will had ordered to be distributed lmong the
people, set their imaginations all on fire by only ~\ague and
obscure intimations of the richness of the legacy. .
The aid of the imagination in heightening the effect of .
passionate representation is likewise employed when, instead
of the object of feeling itself, something connected with it
- as causes, effects, results and the like - is presented, and
from that the hearers are left to conjecture the real character
of the object. It should be observed here, that there is combined with this appeal to the imagination to aid the effect,
a figure of speech. The speaker seems to shrink, as feeling
himself inadequate to the task, from the direct exhibition of
the object. The terrors of the desolation caused by the

•

irruption of Hyder Ali could hardly be more vividly represented than they were by Burke in simply poiu ting to a
single result, "When," he snys, "the Briti~h nrn:ie,; .tr:\.Versed as they did the Carnatic for hnnclrcds of miles 111 a.11
directions, through the whole line of their march they <lid
not see one man, not one woman, not one child, not one fourfooted beast of any description whatever."

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OF THE EllfL!LOYMENT OF SYllJPATIIY.

selves by the passion the contagion of which they wish to
extend to the spectators. 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 the 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 object 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 exP.ressed in
the discourse.

CHAPTER IV.
OF THE EMPLOYMENT OF SYMPATHY IN EXCITATION.
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§ 203. IT is indispensable in exc~tation that the
speaker himself appear to be affected m 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 everywhere recognized.
Horace are familiar to all : -

The lines of

" Ut ridentibus arrident, ita·fientibus adsnnt
Humani vultus. Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primnm ipsi tibi."

Emotion is necessary in the speaker not only because the
absence of it would render all efforts to excite feeling in the
audience futile ; but because, from the law of sympathy,
emotion is commuwcated directly from one bosom to another.
Shakespeare had a just conception of human hature when he
put the following words into the lips of Antohy : "' Passion I see, is catching ; for mine eyes,
Seeing ~hose beads of sorrow. stand in thine,
Began to water."

In all pathetic discourse, the speaker must manifest the
suitable kind and degree of feeling in all the possible modes
of expressing it; in the form of the thought, the language,
the voice countenance, and gesture. To secure this, he must
feel hims~lf. Hypocritical expressions of feeling will seldom
escape detection. The human breast instinctively discerns
between true and false emotion. Even trained stage-actors,
when they succeed perfectly in their art, are infected them/

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§ 204. The modes of expressing passion in discourse
are direct or indirect.
In the direct exhibition of feeling the speaker allows
the passion to appear in its own natural form and way.
§ 205. 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, v eils them in part and only suffers occasional glimpses of them to be seen.
In this indirect expression of feeling, the power of imagination is called in aid, see § 202. The hearers observe, by
the gleams through the disguise here and there, a fire of
passion in glow ; but obtaining no definite determination of
the extent and degree, it appears to them the more deep and
strong ; as the outlines of objects seen in the mi~t being
indeterminate, the imagination easily swells them into monsters. Such partial eruptions of passion are common in real
life, and often impress more deeply than the pure and unsuppressed overflow of feeling.
The mourn er in public,
observing the proprieties of conduct, who only all ows a
broken sob to ·escape her, moves the heart of sympathy more
deeply than do even continued and unchecked wailings and

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EXCITATION.

loud lamentations. The maniac duelist, who would break
suddenly away from any pursuit he was engaged in, as if
forced by some demon of passion, and, pacing off a certain
distance on the floor, repeat the significant words, " One, two,
three, fire ; he 's dead ! " then wring his hands and turn
a bruptly to his former pursuits, gave a more touching exhibition of the deep agony which was ever preying on his spirit,
than if he had vented it in constant howlings of remorse.
It is with that admirable insight,into Nature and conformity
to truth which has before been noticed, that Shakespeare thus
makes Antony give but occasional signs of grief for Cresar's
death. While generally the passion is suppressed, now and
then it seems to force itself out ; and this very circumstance,
that it seems forced, makes it appear stronger and deeper.
Thus he apologizes for any escape of sorrow, and tells the
citizens that he cannot properly allow the true and adequate
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expression of his feelings.
" Bear with me ;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cresar ;
And I must pause till it. come back to me."
"0 masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
\
Who, you all know, are honorable men :
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong au ch honorable. men."

This partial disguising of passion on the part of the
speaker has this further advantage, that the determination
being left to the imagination of the hearer, it can never
seem to the latter disproportionate - either too weak or too
.strong.

§ 206. The degree of feeling expressed by the
speaker must ever be moderated in reference to the
supposed feelings of the hearer. '
Unless there may appear to ~he audience a probable cause.

OF THE EMPLOIMF.~T OF Snll'ATllY.

l Si

of strong feeling, as was the case in the first Oration of
Cicero against Catiline, the speaker should commeucu with
only a moderate degree of passion ; and shoultl suffe r it to
increase ·only in proportion ns it may seem untuml to th u
audience. He must of course ever keep in mlvauco of tll(•lll :
but must take care never to get beyond the reach of thei r
sympathy." The effect of this will be not only to rmnihilnui
the whole power of sym.Nthy, but also to occasion dissatisfaction and disgust.
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INTRODUCTION ANIJ l'EROI1ATION.

189

duced, must conform to the peculiar principles of pathetic discourse; and will differ somewhat from that nppropri:ito to
explanation or confirmation. The aim of the pcror:1tio11
here must be to make a more direct or specific applica tion of
the subject to the feelings addressed ; or to nrnko tho excitement of feelings effected in the discourse as it.a mai~1 object
conducive to some action of the will.

CHAPTER V.
OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN EXCITATION.

§ 207. ExcITATION admits both kinds of Introduction ; the Explanatory and the Conciliatory.
In reference to the management of the Introduction Explanatory see §§ 113, 173.
The Introduction Conciliatory will require in pathetic discourse peculiar attention and care, as it is more important
here than in explanation or confirmation to secure ftvorable disposition toward the speaker on the part of the hearers. Where, especially, either the speaker is himself personally repulsive to them, or his subject offensive, or the
sentiment which he would awaken incompatible with their
present feelings and views, he has need to make the best use
of his power and skill.
The laws which govern pathetic discourse generally will
come in also to regulate and modify the Introdu~tion, and
especially when it is of the conciliatory kind.

a

EXERCISES lN ExcITATION. Find, in tlte follow.
irig themes, considerations or grounds for the f eelings
named:Gratitude to a favoring Providence, in the history of our
country.
Commiseration, in the subjugation of the Poles.
.Hope, in the deliverances of the nation from past dangers.
Eq1'liriimity, in the fact of a universal Providence.
· Admiration, in the heroism of William Tell.
Fear, in the downward tendencies of vicious indulgence.
Patriotism, in the condition and prospects of our country.
Generosity, in the comparative happiness of our lot.
Cheerfulness, in the abundance and richness of our blessings.
..
Forgiveness, in the consciousness of our own failings.
Candor, in the esteem and confidence it wins from others.

§ 208. Excitation admits only the excitatory or pathetfr, and the persuasive forms of peroration, with the
recapitulation.
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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 feelings. Certainly, to close a discourse the object 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 intro-

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GENERAL INTl\OlJUCTOUY VIEW·

Persuasion, thus, differs specifically from dissu.asion, as
well as from encouragement or animation; although the
general means to be employed are the same in th~ J.iffcre.ut
cases. The difference in the specific processes will consist
mainly in the arrangemen~ and means of conciliating and
explaining.. "-'· ..

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§ 211. The specific objects of persuasive discourse
admit of a still further division in reference to the character of the action proposed; whether an in<livi<lgal
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.

PART IV.-PERSUASION.

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CHAPTER I.

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' GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW.

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§ 209. IN PERSUASION, the object of discourse is to
move the will, either by leading it to a new act. or purpose, or by dissuading it from one already adopted.
Persuasive discourse is, in this, clearly and definitely distinguished from the species already considered. Explanatory discourse respects as its end a new notion or conception;
Confirmatory, a :qew conviction ; Pathetic, a new feeling ;
Persuasive, a new action · or purpose. This classification,
evidently, covers the field. If there ar~ any othe~species of
discourse, founded on the immediate object to be accomplished in the ·mind addressed, it must be a sub ,·vision of
one of those enumerated; unless, indeed, mental science reveal
new classes of phenomena in the mind of man not included
in those of the Intellect, the Sensibilities, and the Will. .

§ 210. As the mind addressed may be in either one
of three different states - may be :tlready decided in
purpose but may need 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, and the discourse be . modified
in reforence to these different' specific ends.
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H~ce will arise another specific diversity in the conduct
of the discourse. When a permanent state of will is aimed
at, His evident, those considerations are to have the preeminence which will remain in the mind, - in other words,
truths addressed to the understanding or reason. Where,
on the other hand, the obj ect of the discourse is to produce a
merely temporary effect, as that of a general exhorting his
soldiers on the eve of a battle, those motives which respect.
more directly the feelings as the immediate incentives to
action, will have the preference.
It will often be the case that both objects will be combined ; that the speaker will aim to bring his heare'.·s not
only to adopt a general course of conduct or pursmt, but
also to commit themselves to it at the moment by some particular act. The temperance reformers, thus, in seeking to
induce and secure a permanen t reform, press the inebriate to
au immediate committal by some particular act, as signing
a pledge or the like. In this case, the principles of conduct
will need to be unfolded clearly and convincingly to the understanding, and, also, excitingly to the feelings.

§ 212. The work of persuasion is effected Ly THE

EXHIBITION OF THE ACTION OR COURSE to be chosen~
and THE PRESENTATION . OF MOTIVES fitted to · incite
to the determination proposed. ~. ,:.,
The work of persuasion, thus, admits all the processes before described of explanation, conviction, and excitation:
The act to be done will often need to be explained. The
Christian preacher will need, thus, in order to make his exhortation' effectual, to explain the nature of the duty proposed, as faith, repentance, and the like. The statesman will
likewise need to unfold the course of policy he desires to be
adopted to the clear apprehension of his hearers, as a failure to understand what is to be done must so far be an insuperable obstacle to decision. The process of explanation
. will also often be reguisite in the presentation of motives.
It may- be necessary; moreover, to convince the juagment
in persuasion. The action proposed must be shown to be
practicable, or the .motives presented to be true and real and
pertinent.
Excitation, once more, is often requisite in persuasion, as
the passions are the more immediate springs of action:
All these processes, however, receive a slight modification
, in reference to the ultimate end of persuasion, and must be
introduced -only in entire subserviency to that end.- the
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moving of the will.

CIU.PTER II.
OF

§ 215. THE Theme in persuasive discourse being
ever a conception, it must· always be apprehended under that form .
As the discourse will vary specifically in its form according as the motive or the action be · made the germ of d~vel­
opment, it becomes important that the speaker settle definitely in his own mind beforehand which shall preside over
the arrangement and development, and govern himself by
the decision in the whole conduct of the discourse.

§ 213. The theme in persuasion is ever a conception
which em braces the action or course proposed.

§ 214. The more general unity of persuasive discourse consists- in the singleness of the theme ; the
narrower unity, in the singleness of the motive or class
of motives addressed to the various activities of the
hearer.

THE THEME IN PERSUASION.

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§ 216. 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
positive reasons be seen to exist against it. If the
general theme of the discourse be supposed likely to
give offense, the definite statement may be deferred to.
the end, or-be gradually unfolded in th e progress of the
discourse, as the minds of the hearers may be prepared
.
for it.
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.
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PERSUASION.

194

It is unnecessary to detail at any further length the diverse
applications of these general principles according as the motive or the action itself is made the principle of development
in the discourse.
· CHAPTER ID.
OF PERSUASIVE EXPLANATION, CONFIRMATION, AND EXCITATION.

§ 217. IN Persuasive Discourse, the various processes
of explanation may be requisite either to set forth the
proper theme of the discourse or the mo ti vcs prese11 tc<l.

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§ 218. In explanation applied to the motives, the
application of the principles of explanation proper
must be inodified so far as may be necessary in order
to exhibit them merely as grounds, or reasons, or inducements to action; that is, merely as motives.

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Hence an object or truth presented as a motive will not
necessarily be surveyed in its whole exteut. Only those aspects will be taken of it which bear directly 011 the acti011
proposed ; and of these, while at the same time false impressions in regard to the state of the case are to be gu:mle<l
against, only such should be presented as are favorable to the
speaker's object. Great art and practiced judgment are often
requisite here.
Exemplifications of these methods of modifying the principles of explanation proper are furnished in the orations of
Demosthenes against Philip. The orator: in them with great
skill seizes hold of those particulars in the relations of the
Athenians to the Macedonian power, and in .the condition of
Athens, which were fitted to inspire the Athenians with confidence in their own strength, and with contempt and resentment toward , Philip, that he might thus incite them to a
~oufl and efficient maintenance of hostilities. The ex-

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. PERSUASION.

OF PERSUASIVE EXCITATION.

planations that are given, whether narrations of events or
descriptions of places, of resources, etc., are all made from
this one point of view, and are colored throughout by this
one persuasive character. Nothing is said that does not bear
directly on this single end ; nothing is omitted that could
promote it. The processes of explanation, it is however
pertinent to observe here, are all very different from what
would be proper in a purely explanatory discourse; very
different, for example, from what are found in the histories
of those times.
It should be remarked, in this c~nnection, that it will frequently be necessary to construct the explanation in persuasive discourse in reference both to the motives and the action, as possibly the nature of the action may best be understood from a .clear view of the motives.

§ 219. The explanation -0f . the . particular action
urged in the discourse will conform more closely to
the general principles of explanation; since, generally,
it will be needful to unfold the nature of the action or
course proposed more or less fully and distinctly.
§ 220. Confirmation enters into persuasive discourse
whenever it is necessary to prove any allegation in
reference to the
theme, the practicability of tl\e
action
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proposed, or the connection between . the motives and
the action. Like explanation, in persuasive discourse,
confirmation suffers important modifications.
It is not necessary to point out in particular detail the modifications which confirmation proper receives in persuasion.
It is sufficient to remark generally that the whole work of
confirmation here is regulated by a strict regard to the great
object of the discourse, which is to move the will . Fine
emplifications of persuasive confirmation may be found in
~any of the political orations of Demosthenes, and the

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speeches of Lord Chatham, Burke, Sheridan, and Patrick
Henry.

§ 221. Excitation is necessary in persuasive discourse so far as the excitement of the feelings is relied upon for influencing the will. Like explanation
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 excitation, that the same object may awaken two or more different
kinds of feelings, some of which may be favorable to the
end· proposed, and others adverse. Thus the increase of the
Macedonian power, the multiplicity of its conquests and alliances, were fitted to excite the fear as well as the resentment
of the Athenians. It was necessary, therefore, that the orator,
whose design 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,
~ccordingly, to attribute all these successes to fortune and
to the supineness of the Athenians, artfully keeping back
those causes of his prosperity which might awak~n terror,
and thereby dispose the Ath,enians to an inglorious peace.

OF MOTIVES.

respect comparative degree or extent. We have therefore
six classes of motives, distributed in reference to the activities or proclivities in the nature of man, general or specific,
simple or comparative. They all have their subdivisions;
particularly is it worthy of distinct re~ark, they are each subdivided into the positive and negative in the different forms
of good and bad, more and less, etc. The six great fields distributed in respect to the activity addressed in which motives
are to be sought, accordingly, are (1) The general activity
under the law of habit in man's nature; (2) animal instincts;
(3) spiritual aspirations and tendencies ; ( 4) pursuit of means
and conditions; (5) pursuit of results and consequences; and
(6) love of superiority and its opposite.

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CHAPTER IV.
OF MOTIVES.

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§ 222. BY Motive is meant )Whatever occasIOJ:\S 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. Mind is in its essential nature active ; but
the determination of its activity is through some object presented to it. When it is determined in its action by any object thus presented to it, such object is a motive - it determines the mind in this or that direction, it moves the mind
in this way or that. Whatever object thus moves it or determines it, must respect some one or more of the various tendencies, proclivities, of the mind. A motive, accordingly, is
that which arouses or animates or depresses any such tendency. . These various tendencies, proclivities, these specific
springs or principles of action which motives respect\ are of
various distinguishable kinds. We have, first, the two kinds
of activity distinguished; 1, as that which is general and
constitutional under the law of habit; and 2, those which are
specific in reference to particular ends and objects. Specific
activities are further distinguished ; (1) as animal ; and (2) as
spiritual. Spiritual activities are still further distinguished;
(1) as to ultimate objects or ends; (2) as to adjuncts which
may be either antecedent as means and conditions of attaining
these ultimate ends, or consequent as the results and consequences. And once more, besides these, which are all absolute and irrelative as it respects degree, ther~ are those which
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199

......

§ 223. The first class of motives in respect of activity addressed, embraces (1) those which are addressed
to ,t he general activity of the mind ; and (2) those add,ressed to its acquired habits.
It is sufficient often simply to propose something to be
done. In its discontented restlessness, its dissatisfaction with
things or events, its ennui, the mind is often ready to adopt
any thing, any act, any measure, any course, any policy ; and
the skillful orator in persuasion has only to ascertain the particular sphere of its discontent, and whatever may be the
course he may open, he may calculate on its being adopted.
The mind moves, moreover, with readiness in the channel
of its habitual activity. Hence the importance of the speaker's informing himself of the habits of those whom he addresses, as he may reasonably expect that so far as he can
enlist them his success is more sure and complete.

§ 224. The second class of motives indicated, the
animal instincts, comprises those which address the
, love of life and of health, and the several appetites.
Here. as elsewhere are to be recognized the positive and
the negative-those which promote . life and health and

201

PERSUASION.

OF llIOTIVES.

gratify appetite, and those which are of the opposite character. In this field lie also those which are to be addressed
to acquired and perverted as well as to constitutional appetites.

to the hopes and fears of the divine favor or displeasure,
and of consequent providential good and ev·il.

200

~ 225. The third class of motives, spiritual aspirations and tendencies, embraces those which r espect
the True, the Beautiful, and the Good, - the ultimate
ends . of pursuit.
In this class are to be found those which address the
. desire of knowledge - the active principle of curiosity, and
the principle of communicaJ,iveness. ' This last principle, of
great power and extent, Guizot . well recognizes when he
remarks that if a man makes a mental a<}vance, some 'mental
discovery, if he acquires some hew idea, the desire takes possession of him at the very moment he makes it, to promulgate and publish his thought.
Here are also to be found the love of the Beautiful, as
object, and the strong principle of artistic endeavor, - the
impulses of creative genius, often . so irrepressible and so
inextinguishable.
·
Moreover, in this class are comprised the love of the Right
and of the Good ; the active principle of beneficence ; and,
still again, the desire that the Right be done and maiqtained,
including the principles of anger, resentment, revenge. \ ·

§ 226. The fourth class of motives embrac~s the
desires for means and conditions of the higher ultimate
ends just enumerated, as the desire of wealth, of station,
social position, friendsliip.

· · ·.. ·

§ 227. The fifth class of motives, which . respect results and consequences attending the ultimate ends of
pursuit, indudes those which appeal to se?fcomplacency,
pride, shame, remorse ; to the love of esteem, offame,
glory, and the fear of disesteem, reproach, ·disgrace;

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The subdivisions of this class of motives will be readily
recognized as grounded on the relations of our conduct and
experience to ourselves, our fellows, or our Creator, as sympathizing and rewarding observers. We desire the approval
of our own consciences, we dread shame and remorse ; we
equally seek the favorable opinion and regards of our fellowmen. " A good name is rather to be chosen than riches."
The love of adulation, of undeserved commendation, honor,
or favor, is a perverted form of this constitutional tendency .
So, likewise, the desire of the divine approval and favor, the
hopes of good, and the fears of evil that come in the flow of
his Providence, are powerful impulses of our nature, which
may be appropriately addressed by motives.

.,§' 228. The sixth class of motives embraces those
which are founded on comparative attainment of ends,
which appeal to the love of superiority, of eminence,
above our fellows, and includes emulation and the perverted foi:ms of this principle of our nature, jealousy
and 'envy.

§ 229. Motives admit of a gradation in strength
either in respect of their own essential purity and excellence, or in respect of the condition of the niind
addressed by them.
Motives that concern more nearly spiritual interests out.
rank those which respect only our animal nature and condition ; and tendencies to ends outrank those to means and
conditions. Those which address legitimate constitutional
-tendencies are higher than those which address perverted or
immoderate habits or propensities. The love of the purely
right and good is a higher principle than the love of kn owledge. .Properly base motives are excl~ded from the sphere
of all true oratory.

II
202

PERSUASION..

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The strength of a motive may also be estimated in reference to the particular character or condition of the mind
addressed. The purely virtuous man can be influenced by
considerations that would be utterly lost on the unprincipled
and depraved. One activity, one proclivity, is predominant in the same individual to-day, another to-morrow. The
political community is moving at one time in one direction,
at another time in quite a different, perhaps opposite direction. The same religious association as a whole, is at one
time excessively active or inert in relation to this, at another
in relation to that department . of Christian living. These
different gradations suggest the following rlJ1es or guiding
principles for the selection of motiv~s. · ·

§ 230. In sele~ting motives the following principles
should guide : First, the higher in their own purity and excellence
are ever to be preferred; and when lower are to be
employed, it is better even for oratorical effect and success to subordinate them to the higher, and as far as
may be embody them in the higher.
Secondly, the more numerous the assembly addressed,
the more freely may the higher motives be urged, since
the higher are the more universal.
Thirdly, the specific tendencies of the mind~ addressed should be carefuUy explored as far as may; be,
and the selection of motives be ever determined in reference to them. ·

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CHAPTER V.

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OF SPECIFIC ACTS OF PERSUASION.

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- § 231. WHILE the term Persuasion is applied in its
more general ii;nport 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 ru1d Incitement. '
As thus distinguisher!) PERSUASION, in its mor~ restricted sense, will regard the production of a new purpose or act ;D1ssU ASION, the removal of a purpose or act already
determined upon ;
INCITEMENT, confirmation of a purpose or course
already adopted.
§ 232. Although these several acts of persuasion are
effected by the general processes mentioned, of exhibitiion 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.

.
OF ARRANGEMENT IN PERSUASION.

CHAPTER VI.
OF ARRANGEMENT IN PERSUASION.

§ 233. THE principles of arrangement in persuasion
will vary according as the motives or the action 'proposed is made the leading principle in the development
of the discourse.
It is obvious that a speaker in persuasion may make the
action to which he wishes to incite his hearers the proper
germ of development in his discourse, which he may exhibit
either 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 secti~s 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 rnlation of the motives to one another.
§ 235. If the specific object of th e discourse be persuasion p oper, it is evident that those motives which

205

lie in conceptions and convictions of the intellect shoulJ
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 sufficient to prove this. If, however,
it be an act repulsive in itself, although condr:cive to a
chosen end, it w-:?l. be advisable to animate that general
purpose in reference to this specific application 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.

§ ·286. On similar grounds, the same rul es 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 incite to the highest degree
of determination.
§ 238. The principle which respects the relation of
the motives to one another is to be observed for the
most part only in subordination to the other two.
Inasmuch as every thing unnatural is adverse 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 shoulrl arguments ·that are presupposed in others be postponed, even
although the other principles may demand it.

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INTRODUCTIO N AND PEIWHATI0::-1, ETC.

207

be by direct appeal or address, or more close application of
the motives.
Recapitulation is admissible in either case.
EXERCISES IN PERSUASION. Find in the following
•.
themes motives for the actions named : -

CHAPTER VII.
OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN P ERSUASION.

§ 239. BOTH kinds of Introducti~n, the Explanatory
and the Conciliatory, in their several varieties, are admissible in Persuasive Discourse. ·
·
.
The same cautions and suggestions are needful here as
were presented in the corresponding chapter on Excitation.
Part III. Chap. v.

§ 240. Only the P ersuasive Peroration with the Recapitulation is admissible in this kind of discourse.
P ersuasive Discourse should ever leave the mind addressed
r eady 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 r.eason, the particular action bas be~n,
suppressed, it will of course be ~ecessary 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 considerations which should influence the Athenians - 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 ~he body of the discourse, the _peroration may
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The sturdy resistance to the firH enticements of vicious
pleasure, in the power of evil habit.
~
The choice of a high standard of living, in the rewards of
conscious approval.
The willing encountering of difficulties and trials, in their
needfulness to the best character.
The rigid observance of method in all thinking, in its importance to high intellectual culture.
The preference of mental to physical affluence, in the superior ~erenity and satisfactoriness of the former.

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OF THE NATURE OF STYLE.

SECOND GENERAL DIVISION.

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STYLE.
·--+--

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VIEW
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CHAPTER I.

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OF THE NATURE OF STYLE.

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§ 241.

is that part of Rhetoric which treats
of the expression of thought in language.

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STYLE

No process of art is complete until its product appears in
a sensible form ; and language is the form in which the art
of discourse embodies · itself, as sound furnishes the body in
the art of music and color in that of painting. Style is;
therefore, ~ necessary part o~ t~: art ~f rhetoric. " ~.ventio
sine elocut10ne non est orat10. It 1s not, however, all 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.
.
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Style in its broader import includes alL'/orms of expression, the form of the thought, the form of ,feeling, the form
of purpose or endeavor. But these forms are themselves in
discourse finally embodied in language. And it is this last
form - the form of thought and feeling as shaped in language - to which it is more strictly applied.
·
While it presupposes Invention as a distinct branch of
the art, style is yet involved even in that; as the exercises

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of invention cannot proceed but in the forms of language.
The two branches of the art of Rhetoric, acconliugly,
while they may easily be conceived of as <listinct, and in •
practice predominant attention m~ be given to either at
will, are nevertheless bound togeth-._· by an essential bond
of life.
This second division 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 "elocution" 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. rt has, however, in later times
become more commonly appropriated to denote oral del£very.
The term "style," although not strictly a technical word,
was used by Latin writers as synonymous with " elocution,"
and has been, both among English and continental writers,
more generally of late applied to this use. It has been
employed, however, with more or less latitude of meaning.
But the prevailing use of the best writers authorizes the
appropriation of the term to denote the entire art of verbal
expression.
Cicero and others of the ancient rhetoricians made here,
also, two divisions; the one of elocution or style proper,
or the choice of words in the expression of thought; the
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
division.

§ 242. The analysis of style, for the purpose of
systematic study, must respect the various classes
of properties which by _necessity or possibility belong
to it.
vVe cannot consider style, as we have considered invention, in reference to the different processes concerned in its
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STYLE.

production. For some of the properties of style, or modes
of expression, are common and necessary in all kinds of
discourse and every expression of thought, 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
best method of pursuing the culture of style, will be by the
successive study of the varieties of forms which thought may
assume when_expressed in language, in order that whatever
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.

CHAPTER II.
f
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 determined by the state of the speaker's mind or by that
of the mind addressed.

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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.
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 properties thus determined to style may be denominated tlte absolute properties of style. They correspond for the most 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.
We recognize, thus, at once; as a beauty in style, naturalness
in expression. The class of properties thus determined to

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212

STYLE.

style, may be denominated the relative-subJective, or, more
briefly, tlte sufdective properties.
Further, the speaker, in pure discourse, speaks to effect
an object in the mind of another. He must necessarily,
therefore, have respect to that mind, and modify his style
accordingly. The mere embodying in language of his own
thoughts will not of course accomplish his object in the mind
addressed. It may be necessary to labor more at perspicuity
in the expression than would be requisite for the mere utterance of thought. He may be under the necessity of consulting force or energy in the expression, or of adorning it.
Hence we have another distinct class of properties. They
may pe ·denominated tlte relative-o"ltJ"ective, or, more briefly, the
o"ltJ"ective properties. The last class corresponds nearly with
Dr. Campbell's "discriminating properties of elocution." It
is the only class which Dr. Whately takes into view in his
treatise on .style.

P .l}RT I. -ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.
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CHAPTER I.

1

GENERAL VIEW OF LANGUAGE AND ITS PROPERTIES.

§ 245.
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LANGUAGE

may be defined to be

THE VERBAL

BODY OF THOUGHT.

L anguage is not, as sometimes represented in 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 thought, interpenetrated throughout with the vitality of the thought, as the
natural body with the life of the spirit, having 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 dependence in its parts.*

* " The production of speech proceeds by an internal nece8sity 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 a general law of living Nature that each activity in it comes forth
into appearance in a material, each spiritual in a bodily; and in the bodily
appearance have their limitation and form. In accordance with this law,
the thought necessarily comes forth also in the appearance, and becomes
embodied in Speech." - K. F. Becker's Organism of Speech, pp. 1, 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. Thought
iH subjective speech, as speech is objective thought - the outward appearance of thought itself. Neither is possible without the other; and both
reciprocally condition each other." - LEsthetics, p. 266.
In like manner, Aristotle distinguishes thought and speech, as ;, <t•' ~oyo<
and ;, iuw >.0yo<- - Anal. Post. I. x. 7.

214

GENERAL VIEW OF LANGUAGE.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

The embodying of thought into language must necessarily
be affected by three different things : '
First, tlze material of the body which it takes. Vocal language differs, in many respects, from a language of signs.
A language, even, 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 as 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 the nature
of the material out of which the body is formed must evicfont.ly affP.~t the procesg of embodying. The marble gives a
different form to the embodiment of the same sentiment or
character from that given by color as in painting, or hy sonnd
and language ·as in poetry and music.
·
·
Secondly, tlze character of tlze thouglzt to be embodied. The
thought must never lose its distinctive character arid life. On
the other hand, as the human spirit in its fleshly body, and
the life of a plant ill its vegetable structure, it enters its
material, disposes it, shapes it, animates it, and altogether
determines its outward form and character. Thought, in
other words, is the organizing element. It, consequently,
when the process0 f embodying is perfect, manifests itself in
every part. Thi.5 is true, more emphatically, of each particular thought expressed by the individual speaker in the form
of oral language. That thought, as a life-giving and disposing element, enters the body of sounds which is furnished to
the individual speaker in the language that he uses, and impresses its own character upon it. But language generally, or
the fixed language of a people is organized, so to speak. Its
properties are determined by the character o~ the thought
that has, ~ being expressed, given it existence. H ence the
language_s r f· .~~~::: _na~ons

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215

thought that has characterized the natiou at the formation
of the language has been different.
•
Thirdly, tlze natural relationslnp between t!1011gl1t and articulate sound. Certain s0tm<ls are the natural expression of
certain feelings and sentima"ts. Cheerfulness, sa<luess, exultation, despondency, lov<> anger, each has its own tone or
oral expression.
Further _bhan this, in the original construction of language,
outward sensible events pr objects are taken to represeut
mental states. For the most part, indeed, langu:1ge is thus
symbolical in its very nature; - it represents thought through
some external object or event either naturally or by accident
associated with it. ~'1.nd although, in the progress of scientific culture, it becomes more and more abstract, - that is,
wo"rds having no ohvion~ f'onnt"f't.ion wi th the thoughts ::ire
used to represent them more and more arbitrarily, just as
numerical or algebraical sig ns rP-present numh e r~ or mnthPmatical relations,__:_ still language never loses entirely its original symbolical character. It will ever be regarded, accordingly, as a grea t excellence of style that the thought 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 cha.i;ncteristic of it: nud
this, again, to the mental state or thought which it is taken
to represent. So far, now, as this object or event is fitted iu
its own nature to suggest the thought, the indication of the
thought is more easy ; the language is more perfectly adapted
to its end.
This twofold relationship between thought and the means
of representing it, namely, between the thought and the sound
on the 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 language; and in point ·of fact we find it docs
so con t.rol it to such a degree as to give rise to a class of
properties which are com;idcrcd necessary or highly auxiliary
to the great ends of language.

•

GENERAL VIEW O.F LANGUAGE.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. -

216

So far as these laws and relations belong to thought as
thought, they furnish the foundatio,p for the science of universal grammar, or granmiar 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, historical or
inductive grammar.
W.e have thus the definitions that are contained in the fol-'
lowing sectio'us.

This general view of the nature of language furnishes the
ground for the classification of the properties of language or
the absolute properties of style.

§ 246. The absolute properties of style may be distributed into three classes, as they respect more directly
the nature of the material of language - articulate
sounds ; the relation of that material to the content
of language or the relation of articulate sounds to
thought; or the laws of thought itself.
1
These several classes may be denominated the ORAL,
the SUGGESTIVE, and t!:e GRAM~ATICAL properties of
style.
··
Language, as the verbal body of -thought, consists of articulate sounds. These form the material of which it is made.
It is obvious, hence, that a proper regard to the essential
nature of articulate sounds is requisite in the formation of
style.
Aaain it is plain that articulate sounds are not taken at
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for
use in speech. All are not equally adapted for
this use · and the selection is not a matter of pure accident
or capri~e. On the other hand, through the closer affinity
which some sounds have, either directly or through the object th~y are taken to repres~nt~ to ,ce.rtain t~o~1ghts, or
through'.\he more intimat;_e associat10n which experien~e h~s
created Between them and such thoughts, the select10n is
found on a nice inspection of language as it is, to have
been ~ade on certain natural and easily defined principles.
These principles, 'derived either from the inherent relationship of, the sound to the thought, or ~f the object tak~n to
represent the thought to the thought itself, thus come m 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 cou~tru:­
tion of language and ever be correctly represented m it.
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§ 24 7. 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
those which are determined from the relations of articulate sou~ds or of the symbols of thought to the
thought to be represented by them.

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Dr. Whately has applied the term "suggestive" to that
kind of style which " without making a distinct though brief
mention of a multitude of particulars, shall put the hearer's
mind into the same train of thought as the speaker's, and suggest to him more than is actually expressed." Of course,
what are here called "the suggestive properties" of style are
to be widely distinguished from Dr. Whately's "suggestive
style."

§ 249. The GRAMMATICAL 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.
under the head of "grammatical purity."

Campb~l

OF THE ORAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.
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CHAPTER II.
OF THE ORAL

PROPERTI:l~S

OF STYLE.

1

§ 250. THE -oral propertie s of style include those of
EUPHONY

and HARMONY.

The ultimate distinction between euphony and harmony
as properties of langi.iage consists in this ; - that euphony 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
sounds of words as they affect th-e ear, and are regarded
merely as sounds, and independently of any signification they
may have. In harmony, sounds are r egarded in relation to
the thought which they express. H ence the effect of euphony
is a mere sensation on the outward ear; while that of harmony is an emotion and springs directly from an intellectual
~e~c:ption~up~ony addresses the lowest for~ of the sens1b~lity - ·""" ammal sense; harmony the highest the
passive imagination.
\
Another distinction, growing out of the one already named,
is this ; - that euphony respects chiefly single words; while
harmony respects. only a succession of 'words. In some cases,
indeed, ' euphony is violated in the combination of words,
when the effect of the enunciation is disagreeable merely because of the succession of particular sounds. Thus the sentence,!' The hosts stood still," is in violation rather of euphony
than of harmony, - the offensiveness to the ear arising out
of the difficulty of enunciating the elemental sounds here ·
brought into proximity. ~l'he expression· of th~ught, on the

219

other hand, being eNer continuous, harmony appears only in
a succession of words. The sentence, "He behaved himself
exceedingly discreetly," is faulty in harmouy, not in euphony;
for while it is offensive to the ear, it is not as mere sounds.
The enunciation of the sentence is easy and the sounds themselves rather pleasant than otherwise. But in the commtmication of thought, we demand variety and distiuctness in the
expression of all its various relations. In this sentence, the
similarity of sound in the last two words indicates a similarity of relation, and we are disappointed ·and so far offended
·in not finding the sense answering to the sound in this respect.
Hence 'it may sometimes happen that euphony must be
saci"ificed in order to the most perfect harmony. As in music
the fullest harmonious effect of a whole strain requires sometimes the introduction of discords, so in speech, the most perfect expressio'n of the sentiment may demand the selection
of words that in comparison with others are more harsh and
difficult of utterance.
"
Practically, whether the fault in a sentence offensive to
the ear be one against euphony or one against harmony may
be determined by the circumstance that a sentence deficient
in euphony is always difficult of enunciation ; an inharmonious sentence is not necessarily difficult of utterance.
Jt should be observed, moreover, that euphony is sometimes a constituent of harmony.

§ 251. The oral properties of style, being founded on
the n atnre of language as consisting of sounds, strictly
belong only to spoken discourse. Yet as in the silent
perusal of written discourse the mind translates the
characters into the sounds which they represent, even
such discourse must be pronounced defective unless
these .properties appear in it.
As the practiced musician instantly detects any defect in

AUSOL.UTE PROPERTIES.

220

the harmony while his eye runs silently over the pages of
written music, so even in silent reading we are unpleasantly
affected by any violation of the oral properties of style. We
experience a sensation of weariness from the silent perusal
of a work deficient in these properties precisely like that felt
after an audible reading. La!lguage never entirely conceals
this peculiarity of its _nature as made up of sounds, or as oral,
even when it appears in the form of a visible symbol addressed to the eye alone.

"
ORAL PROPERTIES.

"*.

§ 252. The oral properties bf , style can be best acquired only under the influence of the ear while listening to the audible pronunciation of discourse.
.
It is difficult to comprehend how a deaf-mute- can ever be
sensible of the euphony or harmony of discourse; although
experience shows that even he may write poetry, which, more
than any other form of discourse, as involving at least rhythm
. and rhyme, seems to require the superintendence and guidance of the ear. It is safe, notwithstanding, to assume that
.. the writer who neglects to cultivate the ear in reference to
the construction of his sentences must be liable to fail in
these properties of' style. The importance of them, even to
written discourse, may be seen in the fact that the writings
of Addison owe no small part of their attractiveness to the
musical structure of his style. . The public speake~. especially
needs to ~ject himself to much training of the ear, in order
to give it. such a control over his style of expression that his
sentences, without conscious design, shall as it were form
themselves in accordance with the principles of euphony and
harmony.
Next to the study of discourse as pronounced by living
orators, may be recommended recitation from the best poets
and ·orators. Every student of oratory should devote a portion of time daily to this exercise or to that of reading aloud
composition excelling in musical properties. The speeches
of emillr oraOOra generally J>O""M theoo exoollen"" in n

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221

higher degree than other classes of prose composition. The
various writings of Burke, ~f l\Iilton, and of .Addison furnish, however, excellent studies for the acquisition of these
. properties. The Greek and La!°.J. languages, also, having
been formed, in a preeminent degree, under the influence
of the ear, inasmuch as poetry and oratory were the earlier
forms in which they developed themselves, may be profitably
studied for this purpose.
As studies of this kind respect imrp.ediately the culture of
the ear alone, it should ever be remembered that they can
be prosecuted to best advantage only by audible pronunciation.

OF EUPHONY.

Not only words but phrases having a number of unaccented syllables may be objectionable on this account. The
phrase, "The obstinacy of his undutiful son,'' coutains six
unaccented syllables in successioj!i and cannot well be ~ro­
nounced without interposing a pau;;e where the sense forbids.
The following sentence from Tillotson is liahle to the same
censure:-

CHAPTER III.

" When a man hath once forfeited the reputation of his integrity, nothing

OF EUPHONY.

will then serve his turn."

§ 253. EUPHONY in style r~spects the character of
the sounds of words regarded merely as sounds without
reference to any thought which they may express.

'

The sounds of words vary only in four different ways,
namely in respect to pitch, force, time, and quality. But it is
obvious euphony has nothing to do with variations of pitch,
any further 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 eupl).ony any thing to do with the time of
sounds, with quantity, except so far as quantity is a constituent of accent.
The only points to be considered here, therefore,\ are force
1
as it appears in accent, and quality of sound.

·,..,,.-. § 254. Euphony requires the avoidance · of such
words and exp1;essions as are difficult of utterance on.
account of the succession of unaccented syllables.

223

In reading it the voice labors, and seeks to relieve itself
by pausing slightly after forfeited, and also after reputation.
The pause .suppl)es the accent that is missed.

§ 255. Euphony .requires, in the second place, that
those words and phrases be avoided which are harsh
and ' disagreeable in respect of quality of sound.
,I

·'.

,

I

The words of a language are faulty in euphony in respect
of quality only by reason of derivation or composition. Euphony presides over the formation and development of Ian, guage, and watchfully · guards against the introduction of
offensive combinations either in roots or general forms of derivation and inflection. The radical words of all languages
are hence euphonious. But it will sometimes happen that
the general laws of derivation and composition will bring
too-ether vocal elements which, taken together, are harsh and
b
••
difficult to utter. So, likewise, foreign words, contammg
elements not belonging to the indigenous tongue, may be
difficult to pronounce, and, therefore, to a native ear be
wanting in euphony.
Further, individual habits or physical defects may render
certain combination~ difficult which are not so to others of
the same country.
'While occasionally offenses against euphony may be suffered for the sake of force or clearness, the excessive repetition of them gives to style a forbidding character.

224

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

The following sentenc!ls are faulty in this

resp~ct: -

Thou form'dst me poor at first and keep' st me so.
The hosts stood still in silent wonder fix'd.
After the most straitest sect of onr religion I lived 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.
.

CHAPTER IV.
OF HAnMONY -

....

§ 256. HARMONY in style respects the character of
the sounds of words as expressions of thought.

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......•

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\._

HARMONY PROPER.

\

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I

Harmony, as a' property of style, lies between euphony,
which ~egards sounds as sou°nds 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
J>ainting we readily discriminate between the pleasing nature
of the colors as they affect the eye of a child, and such a
disposition of them as will express real objects ; and again
between this and the representation of character, which is
fully appreciated only by a matured taste; or as, in music,
we distinguish between the sounds that a child elicits as he
runs his fingers at random over the keys of a piano-forte and
those which a master produces while, without designing to
express a particular sentiment, he yet instinctively obeys the
fixed principles of melody and harmony, and again between
these and the sounds which he elicits when intently bent on
the expression of a sentiment ; so we may distinguish between
euphony arid harmony, and again between harmony and those
properties which are more directly Jounded on the thought
to be expressed. We have in these several processes of art,
first, the mere 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
m the body. The fuller development of these different
15

226

227

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF HARMONY PROPER.

classes of properties will indicate not only the fundamental

There is, moreover, a wide difference in the chai·acter of
different consonants. Some have vocality, others are mere
aspirations. In some languages, also, the same consonant
has less, in others more, of a prop~r consonantal character.
The lower Germans are more open in their prommciation that is, compress with less forc e t~ articulating organs in
forming consonants - than the English.
· If it be borne in mind, now, that harmony never loses
sight of the character of the thought to be expressed, it will
at once be perceived that in respect to certain kinds of
thought the peculiar alphabetic structure 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," strike the
ear pleasantly and excite .the emotion of harmony : -

gr?~ds of distinction between them, but also the practical

utility of discriminating between them in the study of style.

§ 257. Harmony, in the wider sense, includes Harmony proper, Rhythm, and Melody.
This subdivision of harmony is founded on the distinction
of v~cal uttera?ces into those belonging to the four different
fu~ct10n s of voice, namely, pitch, force, time, and quality of
v?ice, Pitch is the constituent of melody; force and time
· g1~e a:cent- the constituent of rhythm; and quality of
v-01ce lies at the foundation of harmony proper.
·
1

§ 258. HARMONY PaoPER,.is founded 011 the quality
of sounds, and requires that the succession of sounds
in .a sentenc~ be in unison with the thought, and a
fittmg embodiment of it.
·
The quality of sounds can be regarded in style only so far
as the elemental sounds, of which words are composed are
concerned. In this respect, - the character of the elem~ntal
s~unds which enter into their structure, - different languages
differ greatly, as well as the styles of different writers in the
same language. Wi"'.'"'~ the Italian languaO'e thus has in
· its alphabet fewer vowels than the ,English, ;et the vowel
sounds have a great relative predominance in . the 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, while in an Enrrlish
sentence of eight hundred letters there are not far from tliree
hundred vowels, in an Italian sentence of as many letters
there ~re nearly f~ur hundred. The Italian language, in
harmomous effect, differs from the English in this particular,
that as composed of a large portion of vowels, it is more
?pen, smooth, and flowing; while the English has the peculiar strength · and expressiveness which ·a highly conson~ntal
character imparts.

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" And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad !
'V\10 called you forth from night am! utter death,
From dark and icy caverns ca1Icd you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,
Forever shattered, and the same forever! "

The sounds, however, particularly in the last two verses,
are far'liifferent in quality fpom those in the following, which
are eq~ally harmonious : "'God!' sing, ye meadow streams, wi th g ladsome voice!
Ye pine groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds."
1

j

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1
'

Of a still different character are the following remarkably
harmonious lines from Gray's "Elegy in a Country Chur~1yard": ·
·
" 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 peculiarly favorable to that
species of harmony which may appear in union with strength
and energy ; the Ita1ian, to that which is combined with calm
eleva~ion and dignity as well as grace and elegance.

228

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF HARMONY PROPER.

The following are illustrations of this property of style in
prose discourse : -

ing beauty which they possess as mental expressions. So
there is a harmony in the adaptation of language, as cons isting of diverse sounds, to the particular thought to be expressed; to be distinguished from mere euphony, or the
agreeableness of the sounds regarded as mere sounds, ou
the one hand, and from the general beauty which a perfect
expression of thought in language imparts, on the other.
The style of Barrow, with all its excellences, is often
faulty in respect to harmony. The following extracts are
deficieµt in general smoothness. We feel in reading them
that the expression does not flow in easy utterance of the
thought.

"Truth, indeed, came once into the world with her divine Master, and was
a perfect shape, most glorious to look on; but when be 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 bis conspirators how they dealt with the good Osiris, took the virgin 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 of Osiris, went up and down gathering up limb by limb still as they
could find them. We have not yet found them all, nor ever shall do,
till her Master's second corning: he shall bring together every,joint and
member, and shall mold them into an imri.ortal feature of loveliness and
perfection." - Milton.
"But so have I seen a harmless dove made dark with an artificial light,
and her eyes sealed and locked up with a ·little quill, soaring upward and
flying with amazement, fear, and an undiscerning wing : she made toward
heaven, but knew not that she was made a train and an instrument, to
teach her enemy to prevail on her and all her defenseless kindred. So is a
superstitious man; zealous and blind, forward and mistaken , he runs toward heaven, as he t'.'ii.J.!<s; but he chooses foolish paths, and out of fear
takes any thing that he is told." - Jeremy Tayl,or.

'

§ 259. Harmony proper may be violated either
generally (1), by <liscor<lant and jarring combinations
of sounds in the sentence, or specifically (2), by an
imperfect adaptation of the sounds to the particular
clinructcr of the tho'ugl1t.

\

Language, us the body of thought, should :3ver evince the
presence of the organizing principle generally, by assuming
a form pleasi ng to the sense, as throughout homogeneous and
accordant expression of thought. There is beauty in a clear
complexion, smooth skin, and nicely rounded features, as the
proper expression of a sound mental condition.
There is a beauty, too, entirely distinct from this, in the
fl ashing 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

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229

" When sarcastical twitches are needful to pierce the thick sk in s of men,
to conceal their lethargic stupidity, to ronse them out of their drowsy negligence, then may they well be applied: when plain declarations wi ll not
enlighten people to discern the truth and weight of things, and blunt arguments will not penet.rate to convince them or persuade thorn to th eir
duty, then doth reason freely resign its place to wit, allowing it to undertake its work of instmction and reproof."
"Their eminency of state, their affiuence of wealth, their uncontrollable
power, their exemption from common restraints, their continual di stractions
and encumbrances by varieties of care and business, their multitut.le of
obsequious fo llo wers, ru1d scarcity of faithful friend s to advise or reprove
them, their having no obstacles before them to check th eir wills, to cro"
their humors, to curb the ir lusts and passions, are so many s narc!-l unto

them: wherefore they do need plentiful measures of grace, and mighty
assistances from God, to preserve them from the worst errors and sins; into
'!';
which otherwise it is almost a miracle if th ey are not plunged. "

Archbishop Tillotson's style is also exceedingly defective
in respect to harmony. The following is an extract: "One might be·apt to think at first view, that this parable was overdone,
and wanted something of a due decorum; it being hardly cred ible that a
man, after he had been so mercifully dealt withal, as, upon his humhl o
req uest, to have so huge a debt so freely forgiven, shoulcl, whilst the
memory of so much mercy was fresh upon him, even .in the very next
moment, hancll o bis fe ll ow-servant, who had made the snme hum ble request to him which he had done to his lord, with so much roughness and
. cruelty, for so inconsiderable n sum."

'I.

OF RHYTHM.

CHAPTER V.
OF RHYTHM.

§ 260. RHYTHM in style is founded on accent; and
requires that the succession. of accented and unaccented
syllables be such as will suitably express the,thought.
Among the ancients rhythm was regarded as the prominent
thing in harmony of style ; and much attention was given to
it in the study of oratory. The structure of the Greek and
Latin languages admitted, to a much greater degree than
"0wn, the application of the principles of rhythm to the
formation of style. Yet in the English language rhythm
plays an important part; and in no point are the writings of
different men more easily distinguishable from one another
than in respect to rhythm, nor is there scarcely any other
property more missed in oratory, when wanting.
The ancient rhetoricians endeavored earnestly to ascertain
and settle the . laws of rhythm ; that is, determine 1in what
particular successions of accent, or in what feet o1:atorical
.
I
•
rhythm consists. The endeavor seems to have been frmtless, as the results of their investigations were widely variant. Indeed, from the very nature of oratory as distinguished from poetry, and yet proceeding from a mind formed
in feeling and taste as well as in intelligence, and also from
the nature of harmony as a concord of sound and thought,
we might have anticipated a failure in such an effort. The
rugged oak, with its heavy, abrupt, and open arms and its
scanty spray and foliage, has a harmony, so to speak, of its ,
own ; and there is, too, a harmony peculiar to the willo\\_'.
with its loµg and slender branches and pendent foliage.

otir

·.7

;0;;[::(.,; ;

231

The diverse character of the thought gives a diverse character
to the rhythm. Stre11gth and .vehemence delight in the frequent concurrence of heavy accents; tenderness and familiarity avoid them. Yet the oak is not all heavy, jagged
boughs ; nor is 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 tpe 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 Demosthenes would not be rhythm in Cicero.

§ 261. First, Rhythm forbids the excessive recur~
rence both of accented and of unaccented syllables. This rule is founded in the very nature of rhythm, which
is constituted uf 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, characterized generally for want of harmony, furnish abundant exemplifications of this fault in style. It will
be remarked in the following extracts from this in many respects excellent writer, that the ear demands a heavy accent
on the italicized words so riluch 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 thouglit, and not
the sound 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 qf it."
"But then I say withal, that if these principles were banished out of the
world, Governm ent would be far more difficult than now it is, because it
would wa~t it• firmest basis and foundation ; there would be infinitely
more disorders in the world, if men were restrained from injustice and violence only by humane laws, and 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

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF RHYTHM.

rhythm in the sentence. The offense is indeed so great that
we cannot doubt the word was pronounced in the time of
Tillotson as it is now, with the accent on the first syllable,
and that in dropping the final e we have only conformed the
orthography to the pronunciation.
In striking contrast with the style 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 : -

This is a fault in style into which immatnre writers nre
liable to fall; especially if accnstomeJ much to th e exclusive
recitation of poetical compositions. 'While it implies a musical ear, it is yet a fault of excess ; and in pure oratory is
inadmissible. The- fault more commonly appears in the
more elevated parts of discourse, , when the speaker, as it
were, absorbs the audience into himself, and imagines himself no . longer an orator, in address to others, but their
mouth-piece, in the mere utterance or pouring out of their
common thoughts and feelings. As words of foreign origin
do not readily fall in with those of ·native stock in rhythmical harmon1,* writers who are liable to this fault of excess
in rhythm are generally characterized for their preference of
Anglo-Saxon words.
The following passage, from a popular author in the
lighter departments of literature, tnight be reduced to the
fotm of regular blank verse : -

232

" I shall detain you now no longer in the d~monstration of what we should
not do, but straight conduct you to a hill-side, wMre I will point you out
the right path of a virtuous and noble education, lal;>orious indeed at the
first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospects and
melodious sounds on every side, that the · harp of Orpheus was not more
charming.''

By a slight change in the rhythm, without affecting the
sfr\:'i::., this sentence may lose -all its beauty. By substituting,
for instance, in the last part of it at first for at ttte prst a~cent,
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 : -

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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 all sides, that the harp of Orpheus was
not more sweet.
.
" When a man hath been laboring the hardest labor in the dee~ mines of
knowledge, bath furnished out bis findings in · all their equipage, drawn
forth bis reasons as it were a battle ranged, scattered and defeated all objections in his way, calls out his ad\·ersary into the plain, offers him the advantage of wind and sun; if he please, only that he may try the matter by
dint of argument; for bis opponents then to skulk, to lay ambushments, to
keep a narrow bridge of licensing where the challenger should pass, though
it be valor enough in soldiership, i• 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 defenses that Error uses against her power."
- Of Unlicensed Printing.

§ 262. Secondly, Rhythm forbids an excessive recurrence of metrical feet which shall suggest the ~uspicion that the speaker has become poet.
-

..

233

" Then wheu the dusk of evening had come on, and not a sound disturbed
'the sacred stillness of the place - when the bright moon poured in her light
on tomb and monument, on pillar, wall, and arch, and most of all it seemed
to them, upon her quiet grave - in that calm time, when all outward things
and inward thoughts teem with assurances of immortality, and worldly
hopes and fears are bumbled in the dust before them - then, with tranquil
and submissive hearts they turned away and left the child with God. Oh!
it is 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, and is a mighty, universal
truth. When Death strikes down the innocent and young, for every fragile
form from which be lets the: panting spirit free, a hundred Yirtues rise in
shapes of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the .world and bl ess it. Of
every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green grave>, .ome good is
born, some gentler nature.comes. In the destroyer's steps there spring up
bright creations that defy his .power, and bis dark path becomes a way of
light to heaven."

Twining, in his "Notes on Aristotle's Poetics," quotes the

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

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234

ABSOL:UTE PROPERTIES • .

following from "Smith's System of Optics," as· a striking
instance of involuntary versification : " When parallel rays II come contrary ways II and fall upon opposite sides."

§ 263. A correct or faulty rhythm appears most conspicuous a.t the termination of sentences 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 the study
of rhythm, the chief attention has b~<mgiven to the construction of the .cadence. ·· ·'· ' 0 "
-·· .,, "
·•
·
•
• The style of Addison owes its easy flow in a great meas- .
ure to the fact that, while trochaic cadences, or such as end
with an unaccented syllable, predominate, the heavy effect
of an invariable sameness is avoided by a due interspersion
of iambic endings. A spondaic cadence rarely occurs in the
compositions of this author. The style of Middleton, the
author of the "Life of Cicero," is also, excellent in this
property.

\

CHAPTER VI.
OF MELODY.

§ 264. MELODY is founded on pitch; and requires
that the phrases or members of a sentence be so constructed and disposed that, in a suitable pronunciation,
the successions of pitch be pleasing to the ear.
The term 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 every 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 relations of pitch to style are indicated in the
fact that, in the oral delivery of discourse, 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 it belongs to
elocution to define precisely what these variations are, it ·is
the appropriate province of rhetoric to describe how the sentence shall be constructed so as to meet these qualities of au
easy and a,greeable elocution.
More ·particularly, every constituent part of a complex
thought, or the expression of it in a particular phrase, bas,

OF lllELODY.

236

~ a ~o~r~c~ elocution, a pitch of its own by which- it is dis
mgms_ e rom the other constituent parts In
. f one phrase to another, the voice chan es. .
~assmg rom
purpose often sim l f
.
g its pitch for the
,.
p y o makmg the transition and with no
. .
' successive
rre1erence to. any emph a t'IC d'1stmct10n.
These
anges ~f pitch, given respectively to the several ph
. rases,
may obv10usly be such as to be ofli .
S f
h
ens1ve to a musical ear
thoe ::~t~ne::f~~:' as t~ey abre determined by the structure of.
'
Y nee to e regarded in style.

en~t~t~~~:e:::a.n ~~s, ~e· relati?n,s between the constituof the .
If. ID ica~ ' rn delivery, chiefly by the .pitch
that th v01ce. I · ' accordrngly' th e sentence be so constructed
ese re at10ns cannot appropriate] b
effect under the
ease and
vocal sounds, it is so far fault . and th
.
o
. Y.'
e prevention or correction of the f It
torical style. au comes withm the proper purview of rhe-

agree~b~e

limi~io:s :7;::s~~:it;

·
of How
melodfar; and
l in . wha t particular
respects, the principles
will be e~~i~~c~t1tohn may.thus a~ect the style of discourse,
m
e sections which follow. .
t

§
wo

237

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

;? d

5 Me~ody in. style may be distinguished into

m s : t e melody of proportion, and the melod11 oif

arra'{lgement.

.

. ·

,

v ,

A fault in melody may' be either i'n the ti'me
\
of the variati
f · h
ons 0 pitc • - the variations bein to 0 f
contrary . or in th
h
g
requent or the
being . ~h .
e c aracter of the variations themselves
ID
err own nature unmusical.
'
That species of melody which is found d
of the variations, or what
ody ~~n e e~gt,h of the phrases, is denominated the . melproportron. The melod
f
the character of the
. .
y o arrangement respects
.
vanatrons themselves as J'udged by a
muswa1 standard.
'

~~i:~requ::c~

a:Uo~:t:h:of~~~use:~:

§ 266. .T!~e melody of proportion

f....
....t

4u,. ..

~·

JS

founded on the

relative length of the phrases or clauses in a sentence ;
and requires that the discourse be neither fragmentary
and abrupt, on the one hand ; nor on the other be made
up of members too extended for easy elocution.
The ab!upt and fragmentary style is more tolerable in
essays ; and is more frequent 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; aud
for ability, is in the judgment and dispoorition 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 learn ed. To spend too much tim e in studies is sloth; to use them too
much for ornament is affoctation; to make judgment wholly by their rules
is the humor of a scholar: they perfect N aturc , and arc perfected by experience: for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by
study;• and studies 'themselve~ do give forth directions too much at large,
except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies,
simple men admire, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own
use ; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation.,,

':['he opening sentence in Hooker's "Ecclesiastical Polity,"
as well as the succeeding extract from Middleton, labor from
being broken up by numerous qualifying clauses.
" Though for no other cause, yet for this, that posterity may know we
have not loosely, through silence, permitted things to pass away as in a
dream , there shall be for men's information extan t thus much concerning
the present state of the Church of God established among us, and their
careful endeavor which would have upheld the same."
"And that it was not pecuiiar to the gift oflanguage 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 treatise, which is already prepared by me, on that subject." - Middle-

ton.

The style of Ossian and of Young in his" Night Thoughts"
is also deficient in this species of melody.
" Leave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall. Behold that early beam of
thine. The host is withered in its course. No further look - it is dark.
Light b:embling from the harp, strike, virgins, strike the sound. No hwiter,

238

r

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF llIELODY.

he descends from the dewy haunt of the bo.u ndlng' roe. He bends not his
bow on' the wind; or. sends his gray arrow abroad."- - Te11Wra,_B. v.

§ 267. THE MELODY OF ARRANGEMENT is founded
on the variations of ·pitch which are r equisite for ex pressing the proper relation~ between the constituent
parts of. a complex sentence, or more directly on those
relations themselves; and.requires that the sentence be
so constructed that those relations may be easily expressed by the voice.

Iif··

" Sense! take the rein; ·blind passion! drive us on;
And Ignorance! befriend us on our way; ·
Ye new, but truest patrons of our peace! ·
Yes, give the pulse full empire; live the brute
Since as the brute we die: the sum of man, '
Of God-like man! to revel and to rot."
Nigltt Thoughts.

"

The opposite fault of this kind may be exemplified in the
following extracts from John Howe : "If we can suppose an offense of that kind may be of sOiheinous a nature
and so circumsta11ced as that it cannot be congruous it should be remitted
without some reparation to the prince and compensation for the scandal
done to . government, it is easy to suppose it much more incongruous it
should be so in the present case." - Lfoing Temple.
·

•

"And no doubt so large and capacious intellects may well be supposed to
penetrate far !nto the reason and wisdom of his dispensations; and so not
only to exercise submission in an implicit acquiescence in the unseen and ·
only be~ieve~ fit~ess of them, but also to take an inexpressible complacency
and satisfaction m what they manifestly discern thereof, and to be able to
resolve their delectation in the works and ways of God into a higher cause
and reason _th~n the. mere ~eneral belief that he doth all things well,
n amely, their immediate delightful view of the congruity and fitness of
what he does." - Ibid.

. In this class ?f faults. - those against melody of propormay be mcl uded, also, the joining together of" disproport10nately long and short members. The ear demands I.lot
011ly vul'iuty, but also a harmonized variety, of propc\rtion
liutwoen the members of a seutenc,e. The followino- 'sentu11cu from Sterne is in this respect highly melodious : ~
t.1011.-

"Tllll ~<'<'ll•ing •pirit, which flow up to Heaven's Chancery with the ath
blusht>d

HH

hu g"l\\'e it in; and tho recording nnge), as ho "'"rote it.
jt out forever."

tlrt•p11t 1tl n tt•or upou th o wort! und blotted

d~wn'

By simply altering the length of one or two ·.of the clauses
the melod~ may be entirely destroyed through a mere chang~
of p.roport10.n between the parts. This may be done by
·leavmg out m the last clause the phrase upon the word, and
also the
· angel, a,s h e
. word fiorever ' thus· ·· a1zd
· the recording
wrote it, dropped1a tear and blotted it out. ·

I

I

I.

i

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239

It has been rem~rked, under § 264, that the vocal expression of the relations between the different parts or phrases
of a complex sentence, or the grouping of speech, as it is
called, is mainly effected by the function of pitch. In a
melodious style, accordingly, the sentence must be so constructed that these relations may be easily expressed ; in
other words, so that there may be no confusion in the indication of the relations on the one hand, and no laborious
effort be imposed on the voice in effecting this indication, on
the other.
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 Stewart, whose style in this
respect is highly finished.
" 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 ~imply transposing the second and third clauses of this
sentence, the melodious flow is broken up and its music is
lost.
·The most trifling accident of scenery, at least the most trifling to an
unskilled eye, it is evident, 1i111y thus possess, in his estimation , d value
, superior to that which he ascribes to beauties of a far higher order.
"If the one p~rty should ouservc, for instance, to his companion that the
minute parts of the tree, which tho latter affirms to ue the most remote; -

240'

ABSOI.,UTE PRO.P ERTIES.
011' MELODY.

that its smaller ramillcations, its foliage, and the texture of its bark are
seen much more Cistinctly than the corresponding parts of the other; he
could not fail in immediately coi;ivincing 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 fullness 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 two members of
the sentence and the melody will be destroyed.
The style of Addison is more direct and less diversified
with dependent modifying clauses. It exhibits 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 adapted to the sense, to
leave the ear impressed with an agreeable elevation and
body of sound.

"Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the
bosom of God, her TOice the harm ony of th e world; all things in h en\'en
and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and th e greatest
as not exempted from her power; \Joth a11 gels and men anti creatures of
what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all
with uniform consent, admiring her us the mother of their peace and joy."

-Hooker.

· § 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 to the compact structure.

-l"-Mi

The periodic and the compact structure is as favorable ' to
clearness and to energy as to melody ; and hence it will be
again noticed in the chapters on those properti es of style.
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 oo melody.

'\ : .
~-.?'

i
I

·' !
~;

" We are obliged to devotion for the noblest buildings that have adorned
the several countries of. the world. It is this which has set men at work
on temples and public places of worship, not only that they might, by the
magn ificence of the building, invite the Deity 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 th~ place." Spectato-r.
"It seeks not to bereave or destroy the body; i~ seeks to-save t.he soul by
humbling the body, not by imprisonmen t or pecuniary mulct, much less
by stripes or bonds or disinheritance, but by fatherly admonishment and
Chri stian rebuke to cast it into godly sorrow whose end is joy and ingenuous bashfulness to sin. If that cannot be wrought, then as a tender
~nother takes her child and holds it over the pit with scaring words, that
11 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 in • t~nt; she beseeches ; by all the dear and sweet promises of salvation
she entices and wooes: by all the threatenings and thunders of the law
and rejected gospel, she charges and abjures: this is nil her armory, her
munition, her artillery: then she awaits with long-sufferance and yet ardent

241

'

, I

I

I

§ 269 .. A PERIODIC STRUCTURE IS one in which the
leading thought of the sentence IS presented in the
closing member. ·
A LOOSE STRUCTURE, as opposed to the periodic, is
one in which the sentence terminates with one or more·
dependent members.
This definition is given in preference to that adopted by
Dr. Campbell and after him by Dr. Whately, which is as
follows : " A period is a complex sentence in which the
meaning remains suspended till the whole is finished." It
is easy to construct a sentence which shall be exceedingly
loose while it yet &ccords precisely with this definition. For
example : " One party had given their whole attention,
during several years, to the project not only of enriching
themselyes and impoverishing the rest of the nation ; but,
also, b'y those and other means, establishing their tlomin'iov.
under the government and with the favor of a family who
16

242

OF MELODY.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.
i'

were foreigners that they might easily believe · they were
established on the throne by the good-will and strength of
this party alone." This sentence must be denominated excee<lingly loose, and yet, to apply Dr. Campbell's criterion,
there is no "pl:lce before the end, at which, if you make a
stop, the construction of the preceding part will render it a
complete sentence."
·
Why 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 are given under § 326.
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 o!U
authors, are more couversant than with those of Demosthenes; who, by
many degrees, excelled the other, at least as an auther." - Swiji.

.

.

\

It would be difficult, perhaps, to find in the writipgs of a
reputable author, a sentence more loosely constructed than
this. The leading thought terminates with the first member;
and there a1·e 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 o~ strength, it is exceedingly
difficult to express the relations between the members by
any pleasing management of the voice.
The following stanza from Byron, whose poetrJ19is not
remarkable for excellence in Lhis kind of properties~is also
'·"'

i'

I,
I .

--

243

exceedingly loose, while not wanting in other qualities of an
elegant diction : "And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as th ey 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 fiery mass
Of living valor rolling on the foG,
And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low."
"To this succeeded that licentiousness which entered with the Restoration; and, from infecting our religion and morals, fell to corrupt our
language; which last was not like to be much improved by those who at
that time made up the court of King Charles the Second; either such who
had foiiowed him in his banishment, or who had been altogether couversaut
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 the standard of
propriety and correctness of speech, was then, and I think hath ever since
continued, the worst school in England for that accomplishment ; and so
will remain till better 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 witliout a panegyric of
modern learning and knowledge in comparison of the ancient; and the
other falls so grossly into the censurn of the old poetry and prefe rence of
the new, that I could not read e ith~r of th ese sl.rninB without incJ;gn:1tion,
which no qnality among men is so apt"to raise in one as self-suflicicncy,
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.
Where the main member of the antithesis, or that to which
the writer wishes to give peculiar promiuence, is placed last,
the antithesis is periodic, and so far melodious. Where this
order is reversed, the melody is marred or destroyed. Tho
fbllowing extract bas this quality 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 philosophcrH and poe ts,
they were deeply read in the oracles of Goel. lf their names were not

245

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF MELODY.

found in the registers of heralds, they felt. assured· they were·. recorded in
the Book of Life. If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid
train of menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them." -

who, being separated from. their respective verbs, require a
heavy accent followed by a pause which destroys the melody.

244

~Macaulay.

They, going about to work a righteousness of tucir own, arc not wise.
Which, as it standcth with Christian duty in somo cases, so iu common
affairs to require it were most unfit.

§ 271. Parenthetical sentences are opposed to melody, when the parentheses are of excessive length, or
when parentheses are included within _other parentheses.
The reason of this is that 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
a.xpress 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,
· f'rom 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 toward him notwithstanding, and
instance given of hie abounding wickedness in thoM days) was because
'all the imaginations of the thoughts of his heart were only evil continually.'" -John Hawe ~ Living Temple.
"Yet because it may be grateful when we are persuaded that things are
so, to fortify (as much as we eani that persuasion, and because our persuasion concerning those. attributes of Goel will be still li~bl~ to assault
unless we acknowledge him everywhere present; · (nor can 1t w~ll be conceivable otherwise, how the influence of his knowledge, power, ~nd goodness can be so universal as wHI be thought necessary to infer a universal
obligation to religion;) it will be therefore requisite to add somewhat concerning his omnipresence., or because some, that love to be very strictly
critical, will be apt to think that term restrictive of his presence to the
universe, (as supposing to be present is relative to somewhat one may be
said present unto, whereas they will say without the universe is nothing,)
·
we will rather choose to call it in1mensity." - Ibid.

A very comm.on variety of faults of this class occurs where,
by the interposition of a long parenthetical clause, a just
reading must throw ari excessive stress on a portion of the
sentence.
Thus in the following sentences, the subjects they, which,

. j. ,: .·: '

Who, aiming only at the height of greatness and sensuality, hath in tract
of time reduced so g reat and goodly a part of the world to that lamentable
distress and servitude, under which, to the astonishment of the understanding beholders, it now faints and groans.
EXERCISES ON

THE ORAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

Name and correct the faults in the following extracts : /

..

,

I ,

+

They conducted them.selves wilily.
Tranquillity, regularity, and magnanimity reside with the
raligious and resigned m.11n.
Were really radically opposed. Usually falsely assigned.
Usually' specifically called. E xtremely nearly. Giving
being to abstractions. It was almost equally generally admitted. It is generally sufficiently palpable.
"' A most arbitrary requisition.
Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults.
Throughout it there is an air of matured power.
Thou act'st the fool as it were natural to thee.
He, though we must ever keep in mind that he does not
represent exactly the language of. ills time, affecting a certain
archaism. both in words and for111s, continually uses it.
Andres, with a partiality to the Saracens of Spain, whom,
by an old blunder, he takes for his own countrymen, manifested in every page, does not fail to urge this.
The Greeks and Rom.ans certainly normally articulated the
Grecian rough breathing and the Latin H.
As the people were carrying by, down below in the street,
an old man fast asleep, into whose strongly marked face tho
setting sun cast fire and life, and who was, in short, a corpso
borne uncovered, after the Italian custom, suddenly, iu a
wild and hurried tone, he asked his friends : " Does my father
look thus?"

246

ABSOLUTE PROPERTillS.

" But the power of Greek radiance Goethe could give to
his handling of Nature, and nobly too, as any one who will
read his ' Wanderer' - the poem in which a wanderer falls
in with a peasant woman and her child, by their hut, built
out of the ruins of. a temple near Cuma - may see."

CHAPTER VII.
OF THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

§ 272. THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES 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 tlie Imitative, the latter, the Symbolical Properties
of style.
I

It was observed, in treating of the nature of language,

§ 245, that language is representative or suggestive in.its na-

.. ture in a twofold 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 tsuggestive properties.

\

§ 273. The functions of voice on which the Imitative Properties of Rtyle 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 ~epartment of style.
§ 27 4. Words regarded as sounds are imitative of
th re~ 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

.,.,:
' -- 'l.._

~~

248

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

very structure as composite sounds, more or less perfectly resemble in quality, as soft or harsh, etc., the
sounds which they designate. Such are, in our own
language, hiss, buzz, murmur, gurgle, dash, rattle.
The following extracts are familiar exemplifications of the
beauty and force imparted to style by the . adaptation of the
sounds to the objects represented.

I

"

11

'i

" Loud sounds the air, redoubling strokes on strokes;
On all aides round the forest hurls her oaks
Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thicket.I ~own,
Then ngitling, crackling, ctllshing, th\lllder dawn."
Pope'11 fliad.

I

I

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

·

I
I
I

A~

I

i
II

Pope : Essay on Criticism. ·

I

"What! like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, and fierce,
\
With arms, and George, and Brunswick crowd the verse, \
Rend with tremendous sounds your ears asunder,
·
With gua, drum, trumpet, 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 sweetly flow through all the royal line." -Id. : Sat. I.

I
I

.t

§ 277. In so far as the sensations of sound re~emble
in their effects on the mind, or in other .r elations, those
of the other senses, words, regarded merely as sounds,
may be imitative also of such other sensations. I

in

II
I

" The pilgrim oft
At dead of night mid his oraison hears
Aghast the voice of time-disparting towers,
Tumbling nil precipitate down-dashed
·
Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon." - Dyer.

this case, .the imitation is not direct, as jq t~e ~El of

I

.

~I

249

sounds ; but only indirect, as it is not founded immediately
on .the qualities of the sensation, but 011 the relations. This
a11alogy between the soun\l and the object represented greatly
assists the. impression to be made in the representation.
Of the sensations susceptible of this analogous iinitation in
style, those of sight are the most common; and of the latter
class, those of motion.
'
Here the imitatio11 is more frequently effected by cenneeted
than by single words. The following will serve as exemplifications : "Deep in those woods the black-cap and thrush still hooted and clang unweariedly; she heard also the cawing of crows, and the scream of the loon;
the tinkle of bells, the lowing of cows, and the bleat ing of sheep were distinctly audible. Her own robin, on the butternut below, began his long,
sweet, many-toned carol; the tree-toad chimed in with its loud, trilling
chirrup; and frogs from the pond and mill brook, crooled, chub bed, and
croaked." -J.1ai·gm·et.

'

" While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before."
M!ltoo: L' Allegro.
" Oft on a plat of rising ground,
I hear the far-off curfew sonnd,. ·
Over some wide watered shore,
Swinging slow with sullen 1·oar:"

Id. : JI PensF:rOso.
" With easy course
The vessels glide; unlell' their speed be stopped
By dead calm•, tltat oft lie on thase 81llooth &eas,
When every zephyr sleeps."

§ 278. Mental states, in so far as they may be con
ceived of as analogous to the sensations of sound, may
also be imitated in language.
The range of this speci.es of imitation is very wide ; although the imitation is less direct and obvious than i11 the
other species. As all those words in language which de11ote
mental states as well as all abstract terms were, originally,
expressive only of objects of sense, and could be transferred

,..,

250

.OF THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

to this abstract use only on condition of a correspondence
between the world of thought and the world of sense, we
might rationally expect that language would furnish frequent
instances of this species of imitation. In point 9f fact, we
find that in able writers the style is ever colored by the
mental state. Anger, kindness, vehemence, gentleness, and
the like, have each a language, a style of expression peculiar
to themselves. And this peculiarity of expression is to be
traced in the character of the language reo-arded as a com- ·
plication of sound merely. The fol~owing
serve as illns- .
trations of this correspondence in the sound to the sense : -

;ill

" In those deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heavenly pensive Contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing Melancholy reigns."
Pope : El-Oise to Abelard. "
"With eyes npraised, as one inspired,
Pale Melancholy sat retired,
And from her mild, sequestered seat
_
In no.tes by distance made more sweet,
Poured through the mellow horn her pensivu tone."
Collins: Ode to the Passions.

"But 0, how altered was its sprightlier tone,
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulders flung,
Her buskins gemmed with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known."
" Haste thee, ~ymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, ·
Nods and becks and wreathM smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides;
Come, and trip it as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain-nymph, sweet Libertv."
Milton·, L' Allegro.

temperate connivance could sit still and smile out the stormy bluster of
men more audacious and precipitant than o f soli il arHl clcep reac h, till th eir

own fury had run itself out of urcalh, assa ili11i; uy rash a11u heady approaches
the impregnable situation of our liucrty a11d safety, that laughed sucl1
weak enginery to scorn, such poor drifts to make a national war of a surplice /rabble, a tippet scuifle." - Milton: Reformati<m in Engla11d.
"As one
That listens near a mountain-brook
All through the crash of the nenr cntnract hears
The drumming thunder of the huge fnll
At distance.''
Tennyson.

r

ot om oobili<y

=ooo of .Eoglood bo "tt

'°"°""" w~o~

oolm ood

' .. ,""'~'t~d~,;?.~~~ ~

To this class of properties may be referred the grammatical figures of alliteration and paronomasia ; the one a play
upon the form of the word, - its orthography; the other, on
its meaning. These fig ures owe their peculiar beauty to tlie
fact that in using them the spetiker indicates a controlling
reference to the nature of language as consisting of sounds, the s'ound of the word suggesting the use of them.

:i

I
I

I
I
.......

...

I

~ 279. ALLITERATION is the repetition of the same
letter in successive words; as ." Apt alliteration's artful
aid." - Churchill.
"The abundant Latin then old Latium lastly left." - Drayton.
" Already doubled is the cape: the bay
Receives the prow that proudly spurns the spray." - Byron.

-11·a.

"Nor sh_a!I the wisdom, the moderation, the Christian piety, the constancy

251

"Non potui paucis plura plane proloqui." -Plautus.
" 0 Tite, tute Tati, ti bi tan ta, tyranne, tulisti ." - En11ius.

~

r.

Alliteration was a chief element in Anglo-Saxon and the
earliest English poetry. It was a law of the verse that at
least one accented syllable in each of three successive measures should begin with the same letter. Thus in the beginning of the " Vision of Piers Ploughman " : " In a somer seson whan sOftc was the sonne,
I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep wcrre,
In habite as an hercmite unholy of werkes,
Wente wide in this world wonclres to here."

It has continued to be a favorite element with all writers
sensitive to sound, although not elevated to the rank of a reg-

.

~.

OF THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

252

·The Pun consists in the use of a word in a double sense. ·
It is sometimes regarded as a species of paronomasia ; but it ·
differs from it in this respect, that the play of thought turns
more exclusively on the sense, while in the paronomasia the
similarity in sound is the promiuen t characteristic. The puu
has been abundantly decried as a low species of wit; but it
was formally treated by Aristotle · and Cicero as legitimate
and worthy of rhetorical consideration, and is found in our
best modern authors. · Used with moderation, and without
show of labor and effort, it is an unquestionable ornament
of discourse. It abounds in Shakespeare, and is sanctioned
·
by the severe taste of Milton.

ular constituent characteristic of verse-form, It abounds in
Spenser, and also in some of our more recent poets.
" But direful deadly black botli leaf and bloom,
Fit to adorn the dead and deck the dreary tomb."
Faerie Queen.
" She, of naught afraid,
Through woods and wasteness wide him daily sought." - I/Ji.d.
"But welcome now, my Lord, in wele or woe1
Whose presence I have lackt too long a day;
And fye on fortune mine avowed foe,
Whose wrathful wreakes themseh;es do now allay.'' - Ibid.
"Danger and _d eath a d~ead delight"inspire.' .' - Rog~rs.
"And fairy forests fringed the evening sky.''.-:- Id. ;
' \ To muse .;.,;th monks and meditate alone." - Id;
"With.treasured tales and legendary lore." - Id.

In the same author we find it everywhere : " The heart's
light laugh;" "wildest wing;" " Giants and Genii;" "foreit feats;" " startling step ; " " infant innocence; " " weary
wing;"" wakes to weep·;"" that musing, melancholy mood."
This figure is doubtless often unconsciously used by writers
and speakers whose ears have become attuned to such assonances ; and if no~ excessive, is ever agreeable. It is also
often elaborated with patient effort, as in the following verse
composed in 1800; on the occasion of a gentleman by the
name of Lee planting a lane with lilacs : \
"Let lovely

lila~s line Lee's lonely lan11-"

\

Shakespeare ridicules pedantic alliteratiw. in his " Holofell"D e11 " : "The preyful princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing pricket."

~ 280. The PARONOMASIA is the use of words m
connection that are different in sense but similar m
sound; as" Fortune foretuned the dying notes of Rome,
Till I thy consul sole consoled thy doom." - Dryden.
"0 fortunatam natam, me consule, Romam." -Juvenal.
!'Na~ inceptio amentium non amantium.'' ~ Terrce •..•·

/~;.- -.

.;~;;".r:

253

.

"'

"Lastly, he has resolved 'that neither person nor cause shall improper
him.' I may mistake ills meaning, for the word ye hear is ' .improper.'
But whether, if not a person,yet a good parsonage orimpropriation bought
out for him would not' improper' him, because there may be a quirk in tile
word, I leave it for a canonist to resolve.
"And thus ends this section, or rather dissection of himself, short ye
will say, both in breadth and.extent, as in our own praises it ought to be."
-Millon.

In humorous discourse it naturally finds a more ready use;
as" A second Thomas, or, a.t once,
To name them all, a second Duns." -Hudibras.
"Hard is the job to launch the desperate pun,
A pun-Job dangerous as the Indian one.'' - Holmes.

Very closely allied to this figure is the use of a word in
different meanings in different relations in the same sentence ; as .,.-"Cold sprinkling hardens men and cabbage.'' -Richter.

~ 281. Words are SYMBOLICAL when they designate
sensible objects or scenes which symbolize or image
forth the sense.

vVords generally, as before observed, are originally symbolical. This is true even of such as denote spiritual objects
and conditions. Some sensible object or scene is taken as

254

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. ·

• _ OF THE SUGGESTIVE PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

the mirror of the thought to be conveye_d. How the mind
is enabled to discern a purely mental object or relation 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 not
necessary here to explain. It is sufficient to note the fact
that sensible scenes and objects do reflect spiritual objects
and states, as also abstract relations; and especially when,
as in language, the attention is set to discern the thought revealed in the symbol. The symbolism of thought is treated
in detail in the author's " .Art of Composition," Part VII.,
_where are presented all the classes of symbols in discourse, .
with copious exercises in each, and·ithe laws regulating their
use.
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 and properly, is not a mere collection of arbitrary
signs, like those of algebra, which in themselves import nothing. Words are more like the diagrams of geometry, in
which, without prev:i_ous explanation, may be perceived the
truth of the propositions which they severally exemplify.
Although, in the process of language, it becomes more and
more 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 pater- ·
nity and th~ love of originating, inherent in our ~ature. In-

1

. .-; ~

255

terpreting a mere language of signs, where words only stand
for ideas, and do not represent them through sew;iblc objects,
is, on the other hand, a dull exercise of memory. If the
language of modern civilization, in which science prevails
over poetry, is more precise, more exact and unambiguous, it
is yet less pleasing an!l 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 specific or
individual objects which are so forcibly presented to the mind
in it, and by which the sentiment is so vividly communicated,
the whole thought might be as fully and accurately exhibited
in more generic language, but the force and richness of the
expression would be lost : -

-~

'

-i .

" 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: bnt yet hEY 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 necessary, in securing this property to
style, that truth to the actual object or scene used to
symbolize the thoughµe strictly observed.
This implies exactness in the particular representations of an object, and congruousness in its parts if
complex.

. In the following extract the mind labors to conceive the

256

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. -

.OF THE SUGGESTIVE l'IWl'EllTIES OF STYLE
I

representation in consequence of being · unable to · unite
the incongruous features of the heterogeneous objects presented:"Though in their corrupt notions of divine worship, they are apt to multiply their gods, yet thi$ 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 even hold the helm."

The following are examples of an opposite character in
this respect, in which the sensible representation is exact and
congruous throughout : •

I

"For Truth, I know not how, hilth this unhappmess fatal to her, ere she can
come. to the trial and inspection of the understanding: 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 handmaids
of the soul please to lead her in to their queen; and if she find so much
favor with them, they let her pass in 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 fucus which these enchantresses with such cunning have 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 imposture of these
sensual mistresses that keep the ports and passages between her and the
object." - ,'lfilton.

·,

" So is the imperfect, unfinished spirit of a man. It lays the foundation of
a holy resolution, and strengthens it with vows and arts of persecution: it
raises UJ? the walls, - sacraments and prayers, reading and holy ordinances. · And holy actions begin with a slow motion, and the building stays, ·
and the spirit is weary, an4 the soul is naked and exposed to teiuptation,
and in the ' days of sto~ takes in every thing that can do it i;uischief;
and it is faint and sick, listless and tired, and it stands till its own weight
wearies the foundation, and then declines. to death and sad disorder." - J.
Taylor.

A very common fault in respect of the~e properties is in
attributing to an object properties or relations that do not
belong to it. Thus De Quincey says : " The hoar of ages
may have withdrawn some of these models from active competition." Withdrawing is not a congruous attribute of the
/war of ages. So in the sentence, " These perplexities depend for their illumination on the style," there. is the same
~
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if·

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fault of incongruousness in representing perplexities as susceptible of illumin9tion.
EXERCISES ON THE SUGGESTIVE Piwl'ERTIES. Point
out and correct the faults in the following extracts : -

The seeds of a noble ambition were extinguished.
There is a time when factions, by tho vehemence of their
own fermentation, stun and disable one another.
The great Byron wept in faultless meter.
" She was a very beautiful woman, of a noble spirit, and
there was a dignity in her grief amidst all the wildness of her
transport, which, methought, struck me with an instinct of
sorrow, that, before I was sensible of what it was to grieve,
seized my very soul, and has :rµade pity the weaknesi of my
heart ever since." ..:.:..:. Steele.
'', Having been so frequent\y overwhelmed with her tears,
before I knew the cause of my affliction, I imbibed commiseration, remorse, and an unmanly gentleness of mind,
which has since ensnared me into ten thousand calamities."

-Ibid.
" Mr. Shenstone was· possessed of that warm imagination
which made him ever foremost in the pursuit of flying happiness." - Goldsmith.
" He views beneath him all the combat of the elements,
clouds at his feet, and thunders darting upward from their
bosoms." - Ibid.
17

_OF THE (lRAllfMATICAL I'IWl'El:TIE8 OF STYLE. ~ ;)!)

CHAPTER VIII.
' OF THE GRA..'1MA.TICA.L PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

§ 284. THE GRAMMATICAL ~ROPERTIES of style may
be distributed into three species, according as they r espect
tlie forms of words, tlieir connection, or their meaning.
The departments of grammar which respectively treatn'
these several species are Etymology, Syntax, and Lexic~l
raphy. Etymology presides over the words introduced
into the language and the forms which they take; syntax,
over the a rrangement and relations of words ; and lexicography assigns to them their meaning. The several species
of the grammatical properties of style are fo unded, accordingly, 0 11 these departments of grammar, and derive from
them their regula tive principles.
Inasµrnch as these ·grammatical principles are fi xed and
imperative, the observance .of them in style is indispensable.
Hence it is more convenient to consider these pro~erties in
their negative aspect; and to exhibit them not in tpe forms
in which, as observed, they impart beauty to discourse, but in
which, as they are disregarded, the discourse becomes thereby faulty.
·
·
B efore illustrating the several faults again st grammatical
purity in style, it becomes necessary to ascertain the standard
of purity. Numerous and weighty authorities determine this
to lie good use. The language of Horace is : -" U sus

Quern penes arbitrium est ctjus et norma loqueudi."

. Quintilian. only says us~ is the most ce7tain i:i/l_e _: " Certiss1ma regul:i, m consuetudm()."
,-..,
'

.

.

:

-

':

.

,. '

Dr. Campbell is earnest in maintaining that use is necessarily the sole criterion.
It has been before observed, § 246, that gr:unmatical science is either abstract or historical. The laws of thou<Tl1t, on
the one hand, and the laws of articulate sounds, on th~.,othl'r,
impose certain necessary conditions on the formation of lang uage. These laws being given, it inay be determined beforehand,- to a certain extent, wh at must be the properties of
language, or, in other words, the princi ples of grammar. No
use can· be characterized as good that violates these universal principles of language .
But, again, there is such a thing as grammatical science,
regarded as· historical, and found ed on i111luctive grouud~
There are in every language certain general laws which con•
tro~ and regulate its development. There are general principles of etymology and s·y ntax, violations of which must be
regarded as faults. It is true that sometimes the differen t
principles that preside over the for mation of language come
in collision with one ano ther, and thus grammatical rules fr equently have exceptions. The principles of euphony, thns,
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 tho
laws of language. Now no " use " can be allowed to transgresB these )"'!Heral principles. If grammatical monstrosities
by any mishap exist, a correct. taste will shun them, as it does
physical deformities in the arts of design.
Back then of use we have both the abstract prin ciples of
universal language, and also the inductive principles of particular languages, as guides aml criteria of grammatical purity.
By these principles use itself must be tried.
Good use is, therefore, only a proximate and presnmptirn
test of purity. ' -Vhile generally its decisions are authori tative, they admit, in their nature, of being questioned , and must
themselves submit to higher authority. The expressiolls

260

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

"Xerxes his host" and "had wore-'' have had all the prescribed characteristics of good use, "reputable, national, and
present." No good writer would now admit ~em into elevated discourse. vVe may accordingly lay dowp the priuciple which regulates this matter as it is e;.;pressed in the fol-.
lowing section.

§ 289. A barbarism may li e in the use of a radical
word not sanctioned by the etymology of a l:rnguagc;
or in an unauthorized mode of deriving, inflecting, or
compounding words.

It is to be remarked that each of these species includes
offenses against any of the departments of grammar, wh ether
etymology, syntax, or lexicography" An archaism, thus,
may either be a barbarism, solecism, or impropriety.

§ 288. A fault in respect to the settled forms of
words, that is, an offense against the etymology of a language, is denominated a BARBARISM.

* Poetic use. Many words are admissible in poetry which must be pro·. nounced barbarisms in prose.
f Technical use.
• i Colloquial use .

is
to be found proximately in good use; but ultimately in
the fixed principles of grammatical science, that is, in
the principles of etymology, syntax, and lexicography.

.

261

The English language admits more freely the iutroduction
onls of
of new radical words than most other languages.
Latin ~r Greek origin it receives without hesitancy, aud
subjects them in the process of naturalizing to but trifliug
modifications. So common has this adulteration of the language been, that a barbarism of this species is hardly reckoned a fault, and the preservation of a pure Anglo-Saxon
style has consequently become a positive excellence.
The following are barbarisms in respect to the use of
· w:o1ms NOT AUTHORIZED: Approbate, eventuate, lteft,jeop.ardize, missionate, preventative, reluctate, repetitious, peek for
peep, numerosity, .finity, e.ffiuxion, inchoation, anon, erewltile,
wlwnas, peradventure, obligate, memorize, bating, pending,
hearken, excogitate, markedly, resurrect.
Barbarisms in , INFLECTION: Str~cken * for struck, lzet for
!teated, pled for pkaded, lit for lighted, proven t for proi·ed,
had n't ought for ought' not, had rather have gone for would
rather have gone, have drq,nk for have drunk, have began, invinciblest, succesifulest.
BarbariSJP,S in DERIVATION: Systemize, deputize, happ~(y,
firstly for Jtrst, ill:y for ill, beltoovejttl, securement, forgetable,
indebtment.
Barbarisms in COMPOUND w01ms : S/del1ill :j: for !rill-side,
sundown :j: for sunset, fellow-conntrymen for coni1tr,11mc11. ;
pre-seei'.ng, Joredetermine, free-volit£onnl, uiifnrtlierso111t!, sccundogeniture.
Among barbarisms are to be enumerated · 1111:wthorize1l
derivatives and compound words the parts of which arc from

§ 285.

.

OF THE GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

THE STANDARD OF GRAMMATICAL PURITY

§ 286. That use alone is to be r~garded as good
which possesses · the following characteristics, namely,
that it is national; as opposed to provincial and t~ni­
cal; reputable, or sanctioned by the best authors1land
present, as opposed to what is obsolete .
§ 287. Offenses against grammatical purity may be
distributed in reference to their occasions into the following species, namely,
1. Archaism, or.,obsolete use ;
2. Provincialism, or the use of what is not national,
or is confined to a district or province ;
3. Idiotism, or the use which is confined to hn individual;
.
\
4. Technicality, or use peculiar to a science, a pursuit, a sect, or trade ;
5. Alienism, or use derived from a foreign language.

. . J~ .
• "f'..

"r

262

OF THE GRAllfllIATI CAL l'R OI'ERTIES OF STYLE.

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

different languages. Many words of this class, chiefly Latin
or French combined with original English or Anglo-Saxon
words, are in approved use. Indeed, Ill thoroughly uaturali.:ed are many affixes and prefixes, as well as stem-words of
Latin origin, that they are freely joined with those of AngloSaxon origin. To the same stem we often fiud in fact
affixes from both languages, forming pairs of words with
slightly varying import, as rigidness, rigidity; nobleness,
nobi:Zity; humaneness, humanity; laxness, laxity ; effeminateness, effeminacy; matronly, matronal. The general rule is to
avoid hybrid compounds unless of undoubted authority.
The same principle applies to phrases. When there
is· liberty of choice, principal words and modifying words
should be of kindred origin. Thus 1\facaulay writes " felicity
of expression," although happiness is in itself, being of
. Anglo-Saxon o:rigiil, preferable.

§ 290. A fault in respect to the grammatical construction of the sentence is called a SOLECISM.
There are recognized four principles of sentence-construction, - two .....r egulatina
the aareement
in inflection
....,
0
0
and the arrangement of the
words,
and
two
r eO'u]
a tin bO'
'
0
th e kind aud number of words to be supplied.
.
1
L Grammatical Concord, includi1w aareer~e 11 t a11cl
"' "' i1 flections
g overnment, r equires the proper grammatical
in the use of word s r elated to one another in the senten ce . In sta nces of fau lts are: ~

The diversity of these two remarkable cases occurring so
nearly at the same time m;id in such similar circumstances
are yet very apparent.
vVhom do they calculate will be appointed?
They could not prevent his name _being brought before
tl).e convention.
~- !
~
'
.· I knew w~s them.
• - _. , ~---· .v •. : • • •
'The " ILiy:~_.· ?f· the Poets : w_ere _writ~n ~y~ o~nson _a t
later date I~~:-~.· ·. . . ;·:c ~'.· -:.·, ____ ·.·..,-"'"•, .,

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203

The army were sick from feve rs contractctl by their loug
campaign in the lowlands.
The jurisdiction of the higher and of the lower courts i11
this class of cases are concurrcn t.
Good order in our affairs, not mean savi ngs, produce great
profi ts.
Each· of the four leading writers had their productions
recited.
_,..
The winter has not been .so severe as we expected it to
have been.
·
Was he ever so great, such conduct would debase him.
One of the most difficult...ancl form idable parts of the Alps
that is ever passed over by mortal men .
·
It has generally been observed that the European population of the United States is tall and characterized by a pale
and sallow countenance .
Who ever thinks of learning the grammar of their own
tongue before they are very good grammarians ?
2. Grarnmatical Arrangement r equires the proper
grammatical order in the use of both the prin cipal and
al§o the subordinate elements of the se11tence. Instances of faults are : Than the analogies just given I know of none stronger.
Study to unite with firmn ess gentle manners.
I t was a case of trnpardonable breach of trust and gross
d.isrcgatd of official duty, to say the le:ist.
The/1ood man not only deserves the respect but the love
of his fellow-being.<;.
I
In that event .most of the lmilclings in the vicinity would
have been undoubtedly destroyed.
3 . Grammatical Propriety r equires the use of
the proper g ram m atical element.
Instances of fau lts
are; -..::_ .
This is a very different case than that.

264

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES • •;.

OF THE O:RAMMATICAL !'l;Ul'ERTIES OF STYLE.

t

The general was attended with his staff. ·
Such proceedings are nothing else but treason._·
No sorrow is so bitter but it can be mitigated by sym·
- · !)I ·
pathy.
·
They were arrived within three day~' journey of the spice
1
country.
The works of Deity ; better, of the Deity.
Vices in community ; better, in the community.
4. Gmmmatical Precision requires that the just
number of words to express the thought be employed,
and no more. It forbids excess and deficiency. The
two opposite faults under this rnle accordingly are
pleonasms and ellipses. Faults are : The business ·of the government engrossed the whole of
his attention.
He treated them with the most supreme contempt.
We need not, nor do not, confine his operations to narrow
limits.
When he was retired to his tent, they s:it silently :i. long
time.
H ad he have laid low he would not have been wounded.
The rich and poor are alike mortal.
They may now bring themselves to a better end than ever
France would have brought them.
· \
. It is better to live on a little than outlive a great Beal.
She was really in that sad condition that he·r fridnd represented her.
There are principles in man which e . have, aud (3Ver
will, incline him to offend.
'

§ 291. A fault in regard to the settled meaning of
words, that is, an offense against the lexicography of a
language, is denominated a LEXICAL IMPROPRIETY.
§ 292. Improprieties are either in single \\'ords or in
/

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ilrPROPRIETIES

IN

265

SrnGLE WORDS.

1. Adjectices.

" 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."
" Such words were derogatory," for" degrading."
" Obnoxious doctrines," for " hurtful doctrines."

"
"
"
"

2. Nouns and Pronouns.
The observation of the rule,'' for " the observance."
He was in a temper,'' for "bad temper" or "passion."
The balance of them,'' for " remainder."
At a wide remove," for " distance."

3. Verbs.
"I admire to hear,'' for " I like to hear."
"I admire that he should do it," for " I wonder,'' etc.
"T f':rner:t he did it.," fol'"

su~p<"<·t."

"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 " lie."
" The council was setth1g," for "sitting."
" To fall trees," for " to fell."
" I reckon he did."
" He conducts ~ell,'' for "conducts himself."
" It was predicated on other grounds."
"The work progresses rapidly."
1-Snch doctrineR rennlt nR."
" The proceedings of the cabinet have not transpired,'' for
"been.made public."
" Property appreciates," for "rises in value."

I

266 ' .. . "

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OF THE GRA111111ATICAL PHOPERTIES OF STYLE.

ABSOLUTE PROPEUTIES.

·. 4.- Conjunctions and .Adverbs.

f

•

"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 though," for " if."
"Equally as well," for " equally well."
" .As old or older than tradition."
" Mi.He is usubally well," for "as well as usual." fJ
" easura ly rich," for " considerably rich." . .,,,

~
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'. • 5. J;repositions.
" Averse from," instead 'of " averse. to."
" In comparison to," for " with."
"In accordance to," for "with."
"Militate with,'' for" against." ·.
" Confide on," for " in."
" Independent on,'' for " of."
II.

IMPROPRIETIES IN PHRASES.

Celebrates the Church of England as the most perfect of
all others.
·
I had like to have gotten one or two broken heads.
It approaches nearly twice~s near the sun as the earth is.
\

EXERCISES

ON

THE

.

GRAMMATICAL

PROPERTIES.

Name and correct the faults in the following extracts : Indeed it would go hard but a Spaniard would make out a
pedigree for his hero.
·
It is yet more marked so day by day.
Ending. their game under another sky than had witnessed
"
its commencement.
Let you and I be happy.
_It is no good to watch for it any more.
"We might ask with much more propriety at him the
question which a reviewer asked at Carlyle."~ Gilfillan.
He ca~culates to return next autumn.
·· ; :·, -- "."
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The oligarchy of the royal council, of which he reproved
the vices and resisted the selfishness.
The opportunity of fame, of wliich the love is not the exclusive infirmity of noble minds, was place<l, etc.
The purpose of discovering the l\'lississippi, of which · the
tales of the natives had published the magnificence, sprung
from Marquette himself.
Her uncle would be pleased for her to marry him.
How noble is it in comparison to eloquent words without
heroic insight. ·
I expect that the ship had sailed.
He was considerable of a musician .
Newton has the glory of inventing the law of gravitation;
while to Davy belongs the glory of discovering the safetylamp.
We consider that the bank was solvent at the time.
" Would soon give pleasure to and be required by the
ear." - Hallam . .
" Known in our finity." - Id.
"Nor had they partaken in the love of antiquity." - Id.
" Roger Bacon has ever ·b een supposed by" some to have
divined the method of its restoration, which has long after
been adopted." - Id.
" He is quite of another order of scholars from his predecessors." - Id.
The historian considers no amount of courage and ability
should win forgiveness for willful oppression.
The name of Maounln,y will hn,ve no lowly pln,ce in the
long roll of English worthies.
" A certain twinkle in the eyes of him."__.'. Carlyle.
·
" He was got poisoned." - Id.
" Recognizable as one of the remarkablest of mankind." -

Id.
"We have said nothing of the Ascanier Markgraves,
Electors of Brnndenhurg, all t.hiR while, nor in 1.hPse limit!!
can we now or henceforth say almost any thing." - Id.

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268

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ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF THE GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES OF STYLE.

"With all-its-in-that-day almost unexampled simplicity _
and naturalness, his [Cowper'sJ style is the very reverse of a
slovenly or irregular one." - Craik.
"Squeezed out his eyes at such a rate as one could see
nothing but the white." - Swift.
" It was among the gi;eat misfortunes of Jack to bear a
huge personal resemblance with hi?ther Peter." - Id.
" In comparison of the former." - Addison. ·
Elizabeth stood excommunicated of the Pope.
With qualifications different to his.
Nor doth vice only thin a natidn, but also debaseth it by a
puny, degenerate race.
fo that mighty struggle between the first intellects of this
or any other country.
" I confess myself to have one of those dull souls that
doth not perceive itself always to contemplate ideas." Locke.
What an inferior creature is not the mussel clinging to the
rock on the sea-shore, when compared to the May-fly rising
on golden wings through the balmy air o,f spring I
One is just as abhorrent in the eyes o( all intelligent and
Christian men as the other.
" The baron looked eagerly round for some one at whom
he might inquire the cause of this alarming novelty." - W.
&ott.
"Of whose judgment he had nearly an opinion as high as
of his valor." - Id.
The ostrich supposes by burying her eyes in the sand to
avoid the huntsman's arrow.
" I had some opinion of my son's prudence." - Goldsrnith.
"Mr. Burchell dissuaded her with great ardor." - Id.
" Let us not increase the hardships of life by dissension
among each other." - Id.
Most all the members had now assembled.
/
It would ·n ot be safe to do it in almost any case. ;·;·,~ ,.
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In many; of his observations we cordially agr~e:nr :. •' ..
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The former is the true hypothesis of this subject.
They adopted such an enormous multitude as entirely to
innovate the condition of the country.
Her mind was almost distraught by the sudden reverse in
her fortunes.
I do not remember one regrettable passage in the letter.
It is well worth all the labor it costs to resolutely be resigned.
The Thirty Years' War had the effect of uniting the most
different people.
He eats, sleeps, and shares all the privations to which his
men may be subjected.
The commander of a division or separate brigade may appoint general courts-martial, and confirm, execute, pardon,
and mitigate their sentences.
O~e, though he be excellent and the chief, is not to be imitated alone.
The deserts are entirely barren, except where they are
found to produce serpents, and in such quantities that some
!""extensive plains are almost entirely covered with them.
He was equally afraid to offend the Emperor, of whose
. power he had recently had so painful an experience, or the
English king, whose support he desired to secure in case of
future dangers.
That ruling of the spirit which is needful to rightly meet
disappointment, brings out the best qualities that can be
found in man.
It is much talked of by leading men of the necessity of
changing the mode of proceeding.
An assault wa~ made upon his conjugal feelings by the
sudden at the moment, though from lingering illness often
previo~sly expected, death of Mr. Burney's second wife.
" Removing the term from Westminster, sitting the Parliament, was illegal." - Macaulay.
" We need not, nor do not, confine the purposes of God.'
.-Bentky.

270

271

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

OF THE GRAMMATICAL PROPEJnms OF STYLE.

" I shall endeavor to live hereafter suitable.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." - Bentley.
" The chiefest of which was known by the name of Archon
among the Grecians." - Dryden.
" The author is informed, that the bookseller has prevailed
on several gentleme~ to wr~t~me expl~natory _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."

Every person, whatever be their station, is bound by the
duties of morality and religion.
He dare not do it at present, an<l he need not.
Whether he will or no, I care not.
We do those things frequently that we repent of afterward.
Many persons will not believe .but what they are free from
prejudices.
" I am equally an enemy to a female dunce or a female
pedant." - Goldsmith.
"King Charles, and more than him, the duke and the
Popish faction, were at liberty to form new schemes." - Bolingbroke.
.
"The drift 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." - .Atterbury.
" He whom ye pretend reigns in heaven, is so far from pro.t ecting the miserable sons of men, that he perpetually delights
to blast the sweetest flowers in the garden of Hope." Hawkesworth.
"The only actions to which we have always seen, and still
see all of them intent, a.re such as tend to the destruction of
one another." - Burke.
" To which, as Bishop Burnet tells us, the Prince of
Orange was willing to comply." - Bolingbroke.
" The discovery he made a~d communicated with his
friends." - Swift.
" The people being only convoked upon such occasions,
as, by this institution of Romulus, fell into their cognizance."
-Id.
"The wisest princes need not think it any diminution to
their greatness or derogation to their sufficiency to rely upon
counsel." -Bacon's Essays.
•
· "The esteem which Philip had conceived of the emlmssador." - Hume.
"The Christians were driven out of all their Asiatic pos-

'I

-Swift.

·

·.· . ·

" Nor is it then a welcome guest, affording only an uneasy
sensation, and 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.
" But the temper, as well as knowledge, of a modern historian, require a more sober and temperate language." Gibbon.
"Neither death nor torture were sufficient to subdue the
minds of Cargill and his intrepid followers." - Fox ..
Each of these words imply some pursuit or obje~t relinquished.
·
" 'T is observable that every one ~f the letters bear date
after his banishment." - Bentley.
" Magnus, with four thousand of his supposed accomplices, ·were put to death." - Gibbon.
"These feasts were . celebrated to the honor of Osiris,
whom the Greeks called Dionysius, and is the same with
Bacchus." - Swift.
Whether one person or more was concerned in ,the business was not ascertained.
Those sort of favors do real injury under the appearance
of

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272

ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES.

sessions, in acquiring of which incredible numbers of men
had perished." - Robertson.
'
· " I do likewise dissent with the ' Examiner.'" - .Addison.
" Dr. Johnson; 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 degree
of hatred and spite, which had a much greater share of inciting him, than regards after his father's commands.'' Swift.
.
.
You stand to him in the ref.'.f~ion of a son; of consequence
you should obey him.
• ·' .
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It is no more but his 8ue.
:;, ?' -'.: · · '' ·
The ship lays in the harbor.
" He will become' enamored for virtue and patriotism, and
acquire a detestation of vice, cruelty, and corruption." Goldsmith.
" Having been for a fortnight together, they are then
mighty good company to be sure.'' - Id.

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PART II. - SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

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CHAPTER I.
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GENERAL VIEW•

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293. THE SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES of style are
those which are determined to discourse by the mental
condition of the speaker. § 244.

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Speech is the expression of thought, not as abstract and,
so to speak, separate from the thinking mind, not of mere
truth or of ideas, but rather of the thinking states of the
living speaker. Just so far as it becomes the mere representative of abstract propositions, it sinks from its proper
character and elevation. On the other hand, just so far as
it is an expression of the thinking mind itself, partaking of
iLs i11dividual life and. glow, it fulfills more perfectly its
:proper object, and consequently is more pleasing and more
impressive.

§ 294. The mental condition of the speaker is determined by different conspiring influences ; as, 1. By the natural and acquired characteristics of his
own mind, whether common to all mind or peculiar to
himself;
2. By his physical structure and habits ;
3. By the relations which he sustains to those whom
· he addresses; and,
4. By the particular subject and occasion of liis discourse.
18

274

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SUllJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

GENERAL VIEW.

Mind has properties as mind; and discourse as the expression of mi?d must exhibit, more or less, these properties.
There are only two, however, which demand particular consideration here. They arc these, - that mind is a thinking
activity; and that it thinks continuously.
The analogies of external Nature, which is ever multifarious and diverse, lead us at once to the conjecture that there
~re also native idiosyl} rasies of mind ; that ~ach thinking,
like each ·material existence, has peculiarities of its own.
At all events, in the development of mind under diverse influences, there ari:,is a great diversity of mental habits.
The physical structure 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.
Further, the professional standing and official character of
the speaker should be regarded in style. There is a proper
dignity belonging to the pulpit; and the elevated and commanding tones of the general would be ludicrous in the
familiar discourse of colloquial equality.
The sul{ject, likewise, and the occasion generally of the
discourse naturally impress themselv,es 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 mirid at the time, should be modified by these outward circumstances.

§ 295. The Subjective Properties of style include
those of SIGNIFICANCE, CONTINUOUSNESS, and NATURALNESS.
The first two of these properties are founded on the
nature of mind itself. So far as discourse is an expression
of mind, it must be significant or expressive of t.hought. ·
Thought, moreover, is continuous. The mind, and more
especially when cultivated and disciplined, does pot .act . by.

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sudden impulses in irregnhr, disconnected thoughts: the
unity of its aim imposes on its movements th e character of
progressiveness and consecuti veucss.
The property of naturalness is founded 011 the indiviLluality of thought as the product of one distinct mind peculiar
in its native structure and its acquired habits, and influenced
in it.<J action by peculiar circumstances of place and time.

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OF SIGNIFICANCE IN STYLE.

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CHAPTER II.

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OF

SIGNIFICANCE IN STYLE.

I

First, That the speaker have some thought to communicate ; and,
Secondly, That the words employed actually express
some meaning.

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It

speaker does not design to communicate any thouglit,
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 significance.

it.

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· '"..;........._ _ _ _ ,.,..._...

-----..---< •.- ·~·__..t--t•"- -

§ 298. THE NONSEN SICAL in style proceeds from
vacuity of thought. The various species of it are the
puerile, the learned, the profound, and tlte marvelous.
Dr. Campbell, in his " Philosophy of Rhetoric," has ably
treated of this part of style ; and has indicated at length the
causes of it. The species enumerated .are those dcscrihccl
in his work. The following extracts will exemplify them : -

§ 297. SPURIOUS ORATORY, or discourse in J ,h ich t~e

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 very common in deliberative bddies :where,

to prevent immediate action and delay a decision, a speaker
occupies the attention of the assembly with the show of discussion.
The third is a species of rhetorical jugglery, a11d sometimes appears even in parts of grave and serious discourse,
when vanity and love 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'j

§ 296. SIGNIFICANCE in style implies two things : -

Sometimes a speaker has no desire to communicate any
thought; but speaks for some other object, as to occupy time,
or to 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 style is termed the nonsensical. ·

277

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1. Th e Puerile. "If 'tis asked whence arises this harmony or beauty of
The answer is obvious. Whatever renders a period sweet and
plearnnt makes it also graceful : a good car is the g ift of Natmc; it ma,· he
much improved but not acquired by art. Whoever is possessed of it will
scarcely n eed dry critlca,l precepts to cnahlc him to jwlg1' fl/. a tnH· rhyth rnus, and melody of composition. Just nu mber8, accurate propo11ions a
musical symphony, magnificent figures , and that dccormn whi ch is th e
r esult of a ll these, are unison to the humnn mind : we are so framed by
Nature, t hat their charm is irresistible. H ence all ages and nations have
been smit with the love of the muses." - Geddes on the Composition of the
langu age ~

1

Ancient.s.
"The ~adence comprehends that poetical ~tyle which animat es every line,
th at propriety which gives strength and ex pression, that numc rosity whi ch
r enders Urn verse smooth, ii.owing, and harmonious, that signifi cancy which
marks the passions, and in many cases mak es the sound an echo to the
sense." - Goldsmith.
2. 'l'h e J,eai·ned. "Although we read of several proper ties attributer! to
God in Scripture, as wisdom, goodness, justice, etc., we must n ot apprehend
them to be several powers, habits, or qualiti es, as they are in us; for as they
are in Goel, they are . n either disting uished from one a110thcr, nor from his
natu re or essence in whom thev are said to be. Tn whom they arc 'aid to lie ;
for, to speak properly, they ~re not in him, but are hi s ;ery essence or
nature itself; which acting severally upon several objects, seems to us to

I, -

. 278

SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. -

OF SIGNIFICAN CE I N STYLE.

act from several properties or perfections in him; whereas, all the difference
is only in our different apprehensions of the same thing. God iu himself is
a most simple and pure act, and therefore cannot have any thing in him,
b~at is that most simple and pure act itselt:" -Bevffidge's Se,.,nons.

his "Song by a Person of Quality."
follows:-

I·

absolute and unlimited power, which natt1rally and originally seems to be
placed in the whole body wherever the executive part of it lies. This
holds in the body natural; for wherever we place the beginning of motion,
whether 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 unseemly, and he who copies
her servile~ and without artifice will always produce something poor and
of a mean taste. What is called loads in colors and lights can only
proceed from a profound knowledge in the values of colors, and from an
admirable industry which makes the painted obj ects appear more true, if I
may say so, than the real ones. In this sense it may be asserted, that in
Rubens' pieces, Art is above Nature, and Nature only a copy of that great
master's works.''~ Dr. Piles.

The nonsensical appears not unfrequently in translations
in which the words and grammatical construction of the
original are followed only in respect to the form; and the
particular thought of the author escapes attention.
The following will serve for illustration : -

The last stanza is as

"Thus when Pltilumcla rlrooping,
Soflly seeks her silcut mate,
See the bird of Juno stooping,
Melody resigns to fate.''

;;:.::;Fhe Profound. " 'T is agreed that in all go\•cruments there is an

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"Let Rhetoric therefore be a power or faculty to consider in every subject
what is therein contained proper to persuade.''

This sentence extracted from a translation of Aristotle's
"Rhetoric" by the translators of the " Art of T~inking,"
conveys no meaning. Rhetoric is not a power or faculty to
consider in any sense that can be attached to the expression ;
and we can form no n_otion of what it is . to "consider in a
subject what is contained in it."
. The following is another extract from the same work, and
is liable to the same censure : "Wherefore also Rhetoric seems to personate politics; and they who
challenge the knowledge of it, claim that knowledge partly through ignorance, partiy through arrogance, and partly upon other human reasons ; .
for it is a kind of particle and similitude of logic, as we have said in the
beginning.''

The nonsensical in verse is well satirized by Pope in

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OF CONTINUOUSNESS IN STYLE.

281

warranted by the character of tlie thought, arc fine illustrations of its nature and its proper fn11 ctio11.
The following are examples of a style faulty in this respect.
The first is an extract from the Euphnes of John Lyly; from
which romance the name of Enphuism has been <lerivc'<i for
this species of style. This kind of writing is not uncommonly combined with labored antithesis and affected quaintness of expression.

CHAPTER III.
OF CONTINUOUSNESS IN STYLE.

~

§ 299. CONTINUOUSNESS is that property of style
,. hich represents the thought · as connected and flow-

~~

'

All thought in a cultivated and disciplined mind is continuous, 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 style.
When the mind is roused to a ltigh pitch of passion, and the
thoughts come strong and quick, language becomes too inflexible and awkward to serve as its r eady expression. Then
. the thought bursts out, as it best can, in dissevered fragments
of speech. It leaps like the electric fluid from cloud to
cloud, manifesting itself here and there at wide intervals of
space. And yet even then it properly maintains something
of the · appearance 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 successive radiations
and, like the lightning, gives to its separate flashes the effeo;
of a continuous sheet of ligl4;t.
Although, thus, strong, impassioned thought leads to a
sententious style, and, therefore, such a style becomes highly
beautiful, as natural and proper to it, the affectation of such
a style whfln the thought is of fhe opposit~ character is extremely disgusting.
The speeches of Lord Chatham and Patrick Henry furnish
abundant examples of a sententious expression which, as

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A burnt child dreadeth the fire. He that stumbleth twice at one stone is
worthy to break his shins. Thou mayest happi ly forswear thyself, but thou
shalt never delude me. I know th ee now as readily by thy vi sard as by
thy visage. It is a blind goose that knoweth not a fox from a fe rn. bush;
and a foolish fellow that cannot discern craft from conscience, bei ng once
cozened.

§ 300. For expressing this continuity in the thought,
,Janguage provides, In the first place, a great variety of words designed
for this very purpose ;
Secondly, It allows the use of many forms for this
object that are also employed for other purposes of
speech ; and,
Thirdly, It admits of a peculiar structure of the sentence which is adapted to this sole end.
How great an excellence this is in speech is shown at once
in the fact that the human reason in the fraµiing of speech
has contrived and furni shed so many expedients for binding
discourse together, which witho ut them is justly compared to
"sand without lime."* It is one of the peculiar excellences
of the Greek tongue that it abounds in such connectives,
which, while they show the relations of the thought, at tho
same time give to the expression of it cohesion and compactness.
Of proper connectives we have in language, 1. - Conjunctions of the different species, as copulatives,
• Arena sine calce. - Seneca.

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SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.
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disjunctives, adversatives, conditionals, illatives, comparatives, etc. ;
2. Relatives of all kinds, whether pronouns or such adverbs as accordingly, thus, etc., and adjecti.ves of order and
others;
3. Forms of expression appropriated to this object, as "to
continue," " to add," etc.
In the general structure of the sentence, also, the property
of ~ntinuousness or its opposite may be represented to a
grt-\l degree. The le~gth, the implication, and interdepend. ence 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 the fragmentary character of
the thought.
It should be observed, in this connection, that much will
depend on the particular habits of the individual speaker
whether his style will more naturally be continuous or sententious and abrupt. Simplicity, earnestness, and directness
incline more to short, disconnected expressions. E xpanded
views, fullness of thought, cautiousness, and wariness lead
to a more extended, connected, and continuous style. Continuousness is an excellence only when it is na~ural. A
broken, abrupt, saltatory style, 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.

.. J. ,_

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CHAPTER IV.
; .

OF NATURALNESS L'< STYLE.

§ 301. NATURALNESS is a property which appearR
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. Naturalness is
founded on the peculiar mental condition of the individual
speaker.
.Every one has his own modes of thinking. H e has his
own modes of viewing _truth. His feelings have their own
peculiar characteristics. The same ideas, even, 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 forms of illustration, his images are peculiar.
Every writer and every speaker, thus, has his own manner. One is more diffuse, another more concise ; one more
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 vehemen t,
another more feeble or tame; one more neat and elegant,
another more careless and loose ; one more elevated and
stately, 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 a11d
.
.

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SUBJECTIVE

l'RO~ERTIES.

OF NATURALNESS IN STYLE.

enrich with all the various excellences that can be admitted
into his style, he should still preserve his own manner, as
,..1)scarcely any thing is more offensive than a strained, affected,
I 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
f and in stric~ 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 writers or speakers remarkable for those properties rather as exemplifications than as models for im~tation.
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 securing rational discourse should be
exerted rather in determining and shaping the mental habits,
and thus impressing its high character on every exertion of
the mind while the life and beauty of spontaneous action is
still preserved. This is, indeed, the end and object of all
true intellectual discipline. Excessive care, at the time of
constructing discourse, to preserve from every thing faulty,
may be injurious. In writing, at least, it is better\ to write
freely and correct afterward. In training, this freedom can
be secured only by confining the study and practicfl to specific elements and processes. Each should be practiced by
itself, till it shall be fully mastered and so cause no distrac1
tion in subsequent practical efforts.

§ 302. Naturalness in style respects the person, the
official character and standing of the speaker, and the
subject and occasion of his discourse:

t

§ 303. The pe:rsonal characte:ristics of style ar.e dete,rmined either niore directly by the hab_its .thought,

285

however formed, peculiar to the individual speaker, or
more indirectly by his physical habits.

'

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There is a singular beauty in that style which is tho 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 and 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 shun with the utmost
care every thing that can vitiate its taste, debase its sentiments, or corrupt the verbal and sensible material in which
its thoughts are to embody themselves; and to cultivate
assiduously, on the other hand, familiarity with all that is
pure and ennobling in thought and sentiment, and all that
is lovely and beautiful in language and in the various kiuds
,A of sensible imagery employed in expression. Both of these
objects should be kept distinctly in view, namely, the purity
and elevation of the thought itself, and the material which is
- used for embodying thought. Every man has, in an important sense, a language of his own. Both the range of words,
and the sensible objects and scenes, as well as all the various
means of communicating ancl illustrating thought, are, within
certain limits, peculiar to the individual. Hence arises tho
imperative necessity of care and labor in providing for a
pure and elegant as well as a natural expression of thought
by avoiding all low associations both of words and images.
The physical cond~tion and habits of the speaker have
much to do with his style. Speech is, materially, a physical
effort; and must, consequently, be vitally affectecl by the
condition of the body. Especially do the more proper vocal
org~ns, or those parts of the body which are more directly
concerned in speaking, exert an influence on style. The
culture of the voice in elocution is, therefore, important to
the highest skill in constructing cliscourse for delivery. In
preparing such discourse the writer will ever, even if un-

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:·. SUBJECTIVE PROPE,RTIES. · .

. consciously to himself, consul~ his . powers · of utterafice.
Observation abundantly shows h()w a· naturally imaginative
and highly impassioned style may be gradually changed into
one that is dry and tame .b y the continued influence of the
conviction of an inability appropriately to deliver strongly
i!!"lpassioned discourse. .A conscious power and skill to
express with effect the most highly wrought discourse will,
on the other hand, ever be stimulating to the production of
it. Indeed, the imagined effect of his writing as pronounced
by himself will ever control the writer in preparing thought
for communication to others. He will not write 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 his skill in delivery.
While naturalness requires that discourse be a· free representation of the speaker's own mind and character, it forbids
all ostentation of peculiarities. This fault of mannerism is
always exceedingly offensive.

§ 304. The official character and standing of the
speaker should ever so control style as that while it is
not suffered to predominate in his attention at all over
his subject or the design of his discourse, it yet shall
prevent every thing incompatible with such official
standing.
\
1

The regard which the speaker must pay to 1his official
standing and relations must be a co~trolling on~ ; and yet
only in subordination to that which he is to pay to other
things. Official . propriety is . only one, and a subordinate
one, of those species of propriety which must appear ~ discourse.

§ 305 . . The sub:ject and the occasion of the discourse,
as they must affect strongly the mind of the speaker,
will also leave their impressions on his style, in .' r~nder-

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OF NATURALNESS IN STYLI!:.

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incr
o it more earnest and elevated, more stately and dignified, or more light and familiar.
The distinction of the high, the low, and the middle styles
of oratory recognized by the ancients was founded mainly on
the subject and the occasion of the discourse. Other things,
it is true, were regarded in the distinction, as personal peculiarities. Homer thus distributes the different styles among
three of his leading characters.* Still, when· the attempt
was made by rhetoricians to determine the province of these
separate styles, they generally foll back on the subject. Thus
Cicero: "Is erit igitur eloquens, qui poterit parva summisse,
modica temperate, magna graviter 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. Homer thus
describes the morning : ''
"The saffron morn, with early blushes spread,
Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed,
With new-born day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the course of heaven with sacred light."

Butler, in his" Hudibras," thus describes the same scene: "The sun ha<\ long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap;
And, like a lobster boiled , the morn
From black to i·ed began to turn."

Burke, in his speech on " Conciliation with America," was
led to speak in the following terms of the rapid iuerease of
population in the colonies : "I oan hy no cnlculationju•t.ify myse lf in placing- I.h e nt11nlwr be low two
million s of inhabitants of our own European Uluod nncl co lor; he)':1des ut

least five hundred thousand others, who form 110 inconsiclerahle pnrt or th e
whole. This, sir, is, I believe, about the true number. There is 110 occasion to exaggerate, when plain truth is of so much wcii;ht ancl importance.

*

Ea ipsa genera diccrali jam antiquitns tradita. ab Hom cro sunt tria in
tribns; maguifi cmn in Ulyxe et ubcrtmn, subtile in 1\fen clno et cohibitmn,
m1xtum morlerat.umque in N1>., tore. - Gell. V 11., 14. See also Quint.. lll,.t.

Oral. IJ., 17, 8; XII., 10, 63, 64.

Cic. Orat. 23-29.

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288

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SU,BJEQTIV$ fRQfl):Rl'IBS.

But whether I l'ut the present numbers. too hi.gh or t~o l~w is ·a ma~ter of
little moment. Such is the strength with which populat10n shoots m that
part of the world, that, state the numbers a~ high as we .will, '."hilst the .di<'pute continues the exaggeration ends. Whilst we are d1~cus~mg a~y g1~en
magnitude, they are grown to it. Whilst we spend our time m ~e~1beratmg
on the mode of governing two millions, we shall find we have millions more .
to manage. Your children do not grow faster from infancy to ?'anhood,
than they spread from families to communities, and from villages to
nations."

PART III. -

Dr. Johnson, in his pamphlet entitled " Taxation no Tyranny," aiming at an entirely opposite object, to disparage the
colonies, uses the following langu~ge in re~pect to the same
point:-

.

CHAPTER I.
GENERAL VIEW.

i• But we are soon told that the continent of North America contains three
· millions not of men merely butofwhigs,-ofwhigs fierce for liberty, and ,.., . disdainf~l of dominion; that' they multiply with the fecundity of their own rat- / '
tle-1 naku, so that every quarter of a century doubles their numbers."

§ 306. THE OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES of style are
those which are determined to discourse by a regard to
the effect on the mind addressed. § 244.
The objective 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 subje_ctive property. Energy,
also, another objective property, presupposes harmony, an
absolute property, as well as others of that class. But it
may be necessary, however, 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
style.
But this objective use of language, for effect on other
minds, requires some characteristics of style . that are distinguished from the absolute and suujective proiierties, not 'in
degree merely, but also in kind. l\Iany of the figures of
speech, so called, for instance, are of this character.
The circumstance that the objective properties presuppose those of the other classes, and are founded iu part upon
them, ,rill account for the fact that, in some cases, the consideration of the same property may belong in common to 1

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OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

19

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290

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

GENERAL VIEW.

different parts of rhetoric.* There is, notwithstanding, an
obvious and radical distinction between the classes.

These three properties are all which a consideration of the
effect of discourse requires in style, exclusive of those which
the nature of language and the mental condition of the
speaker impose.

§ 307. The Obj ective Properties are all in their
nature relative, a nd must vary with the various character of the mind addressed.
It Is hardly n ecessary 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
p~operties ; 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 the
human mind. Those characteristics which render a discourse
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 CLEARNESS, ENERGY, and BEAUTY.
It is obvious that in order to affect another mind to the
highest degree by discourse, it must not only coutaiu thought,
- be significant - but also be susceptible of ready interpre'
~
tation. . It must be dear.
In order, further, to a vivid effect upon the i~tell ect and
feelings, discourse must bear on its face the character of life
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 resthetic properties of the
mind; in other words, without regarding the taste of those
addressed. Discourse must be in taste or beautiful.
• It may be proper to remark here, that in. order to avoid unnecessary
repetition, some observations are made under one class of properties which
might proP"rly fall under another.
/ •.; · . • 7 . ~

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§ 309. Of the three Objective Properties of style,
Clearness is, in order of importance, the first and m ost
indispensable ; Energy is next in importanGe ; and Elegance last and lowest.
·
/

Clearness is most indispensable, since if discourse is not
understood; it cannot be felt. Just so far as it is uni ntelligible, 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 arlmi ts
of degrees, and what is slightly obscure may be s~ill intelligible, a~though only with effort, a high degree of energy may
>iii sometimes be properly preferred to a sliirhtlv increased
~ •
degree of Clearness.
Further, ene~gy must be obviously regarded, in all proper
oratory, as of superior importance to elegance ; while, at the
same time, it may be expedient to sacrifice a little energy to
gain a high degree of beauty.
The character of the discoursfl will, however, affect the
relative properties. In explanatory discourse, where the
obj ect is to inform, clearness is decidedly the ruling property;
and its claims far outweigh all others. Jn conviction, ell ergy
rises relatively in importance, and may properly re11ui re some
sacrifice of clearness. Still more is thi s the case in cxcit.a fion
a nd persuasion. Passion, here, sometimes triumphs ove r
reason; and sympathy outruns argument. 'Vherever, ag:1i11,
vehement feeling enters into discourse, energy shonkl strongly
prevail over mere elegance. On the other hand , in gc uflo
excitement of feeling, elegance is elevated, relat.ively, to a
higher rank .

OF CLEAHNESS IN STYLE•

•
1.
CHAPTER II.
OF CLEARNESS IN STYLE.

§ ~O. CLEARNESS in style requires that the thought
be so presented that the mind addressed shall apprehend it readily and without labor.
/

It is not enough that the speaker himself readily apprehend the thought, or that the discourse be clear to himself;
or that it may be readily intelligible to a certain class of
minds. Clearness, as a relative property of style, (§ 307,)
requires that the particular mind addressed be regarded. and
that care be taken to adapt the discourse to its capacity of
apprehension.
Nor, further, is it enough that even the mind addressed
shall, on sufficient study and reflection, be able to make out
the sense. The discourse, says Quintilian, should enter the
mind, as the sun the eye, even although not intently fixed
upon it; so that _pains are necessary not merely that the
hearer. may be able to understand it, but that he c~n iu no
·
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way fail to understand it.*

§ 311. Clearness depends ori a right consicler~tion of
four different things in discourse, namely.: l. The kind of words employed ; · '·
2. Th e number of words. ;
··
3. _The representative imagery; and
4. The structure of the sentence.
• Ut in animum ejus oratio, ut sol in oculos, etiamsi in earn non intendatur, incurrat. Quare non, ut intelligere possit, sed ne omnin,o possit non
intelligere, curandum.-;- 01'at. Inst. III., 2, 2a. 24.
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· § 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-Sa."'l:on words ; · •
3 . . Such as are not equivocal or ambiguous; and,
4. Simple and specific, in distinction from the more
generic.
All the varieties of barbarisms enumerated.in § 289, are
to the popular mind generally obscure or unintelligible, just
so far as not in use. It should be remarked, however, that
whether barbarisms are clear or otherwise to a particular
mind, depends on the circumstance of its having been
familar wi't h them or not. To the scholar, archaisms are
not a;lways obscure; nor to the man versed in a particular art
~ science are the technicalities of that art obscure. They
may be t<;> him, indeed, the clearest of all classes of words.
But so far as discourse is intended for the popular mind
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 familiar 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 : '
" Tack to the larboard and stand off to sea,
Veer starboard sea. an~ land. 11 -D;·yden's ..dtneid.
"He that works by Tbessalic ceremonies, by charms and 1101.-cn~o
words, by figures and insignificant charactcrisms, by inrngcs alH! Ly mi::•,
by circles and imperfect noises, bath more 111 lva11tagc aud real title to tho
. opportunities of mischief, by tho cursing tongue." -J. Taylor's &-rmon1.
"God begins his cure by caustics, by in cisions and in struments of w:<ntion, to try if the disease that will not yield to tho allccti vcs of conlial~ 11ml

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OF CLEAHNESS IN STYLE.

OBJ,ECTIVE PROPERTIES.

perfumes, frictions and baths, may be forced out by deleterics, scarifications,
and more salutary but less pleasing physic." - Id.

Anglo-Saxon words, as belonging to the original stock of
our language and constituting the truly vernacular part of it,
so to speak, are more significant and intelligible 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 exJ>ress.ive .and clear than those· :e~ularly formed with Lat~n
~"\ermmations. Hence, perhaps, it is we find so many hybrid
terms in our language, such as lucidness, passiveness, tardiness, instead of lucidity, e.tc.
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 appropriated, respectively, to
different shades or applications of the general idea denoted
by the original word. Words 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 the proper word, both in the AngloSaxon 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. \T hus the
words human, humane, and manly have originally re same
signification ; so also, Journal, diary, a.nd daily; igneous
/
and fiery.
·
In such cases, the Latin word will often be found to be
most perspicuous.
Equivocal words are found in four different classes of
words; 1. Primitives, to which use has somehow appropriated
different significations, of which kind of words the number
is considerable 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. · -·.-.._·. ... : r J'. ~ ....:r k·-:~ ·

-·

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·~

"

The relative pronouns who, wltich, nml tltat nrc used both
to limit and also to explain the word or words to which they
r~fer. They are used in defiuitives or in epithet clauses,
and are either definitive or explicative.
They are definitive or determinative in the following : The man that endureth to the end shall be saved.
The remorse, which issues in reformation, is true repentance.

They are explicative, that is· epithets, in the following
sentences : Man, who ls born of wo~an, is of few days and full of trouble.
Godliness which with contentment is great gain, has the promise of the
present life ~nd of the future .

They are more or less equivocal in the following: I know that all w:ords which are signs of complex ideas furnish matter
of mistake and cavil.

2. Deri~atives and compounds; as mortal, which has both
C 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, it was
overlooked by one man, and maQ.y passages wholly written
by another ; " discharge, as; "'Tis not a crime to attempt what I decree,
Or if it were, discharge the crime on me."
·
Dryden's ./Eneid.

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."
.
4. Words which, unequivocal in themselves, become equivocal by their connection in the sentence, as in the following
instance!! : -

·1· .... -... •.

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OF CLEARNESS 1N STYLE.

· OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

The argument is very plausible, certainly,

if not

entirely conclusive.

The lecture was well attended and generally interesting.

Equivocal words are either properly ambiguous, or homouymous. A properly ambiguous word is one which has come
to be used in different signific,ations, as, nervous, which means "'
either of stron,q nerves or of weak nerves. Homonyms are words
which, of a different origin, have accidentally assumed the
same form, as mass, a heap, and mass, a Catholic religious
service.
~d;j'flual and more specific words are to be preferred
wthose which are more generic, because individual and
specific objects are more easily apprehended than abstract and
generic.

§ 313. Clearness, as depending on the number of
words, requires the least number that will fully ex-

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press the thought.
While brevity in expression is thus favorable to clearness,
as the mind more readily grasps what is presented to it in a
narrower compass, still this principle is not to be accepted as
of absolute and unqualified authority. While mere multiplication of words - mere verboseness - is opposed to clearness, expansion of the thought is not unfavorable, but often
necessary.
Brevity, thus, is opposed to clearness whenever \.
1. Through want of copious and ample illustra~ion, the
thought is not held up sufficiently long before the find 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 duilness of apprehension, or through want of familiarity with the subject,
the mind addressed requires more or less time for contem- . ,
plating the_,thought in order to apprehend i~; . ~n~ :~pl~fy or

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297

expand it accordingly. Ho should, likewise, consult the
state of the hearer's mind at the time. 'Vhen tho mind is
excited and attentive, the apprehension is quicker than when
it is dull and uninterested. Jn tho 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 leave his father; for if he should leave
his father, his father ,would die."
1ihe_following sentences are faulty in this respect : If he delights in these studies, he can have enough of them. He may
himself in them as deeply as be pleases. He may revel in them inc<tfantly, and eat, drink, and clothe himself with them.

b~

How immense the difference between the pious and profane [instead of
·

the profane].
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§ 314. The 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 clearness is founded upon the symbolical
properties of language, § 281. From the very nature of
language, regarded as symbolical or picture-like, it will he
obvious that the symbol or picture itself must be known by
the hearer or he cannot interpret it. Here the same observations apply to some extent that have been already made in
referen.ce to words of popular use. While all minds may
be supposed to be conversant with the great pheHornc1ia of
Nature that daily exhibit themselves to the 'senses, yet even

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OF CLEARNESS IN STYLE.

.' OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.'

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 th~ot;gh
images drawn fro~ 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 classi~l
t!to'ima~ery is clear to the scholar, but unmeaning to the uneducated. Th~ 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.
Further, even when the mind addressed may be supposed
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.
The following are exemplifications of offenses against
these principles of clearness : "They thought there was no life after this; or if there were, it {as without pleasure, and every soul thrust into a hole, and a dorter of a span's
length allowed for his rest, and for his walk; and in the shades elow, no
numbering of healths by the numeral letters of Philenium's nam'e, no fat \
mullets, no oysters of LuorinuB, no Lesbian or Chian wines. Therefore
now enjoy the delicacies of Nature, and feel the descending wines distilled
through the limbeck 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 scams; but lose no time,
for the sun drives hard, and the shadow is long, and 'the days of mourning
4 are at hand,' but the number of the days of darkness and the grave cannot
be told." - J. Taywr.'
·
" So neither will the pulse aqd the leeks, Lavinian sausages, and the
Cisalpine sockets lll}d gobbets of condited bull's-flesh, minister 'such delicate
spirits to the thinking man; but his noti~n will be _flat as . th,~ noise of the

,'. ··-::1·.· · .•.
<

~\

• .,...

.

'

.

Arcadian porter, and. thick as the first juice of his country lard, unless he
makes his body a fit servant to the soul, and bot.Ji fitted for the employment." - Id.

!'

l,i
1·'··

I

§ 315. Clearness, as depending on the structure of
the sentence, is affected 1. By the use of the relative words in it ;
2. _By the arrangement of the different members;
and,
3. By the interposition of parenthetical clauses;

)
~-

~

:,

(

J;

l·
I

i~

§ 316. Relative words may hinder clearness either
by being too remotely separated from their antecedents,
or by being of ambiguoµs reference.

!
i

!~

lTI
1•

!~

The following are examples of this class of faults : -

i:

a. Too remotely separated;

1·
i

.....

I

~.~
It

!"

1!,f

I

il

1'

!~

if,
::-;

299

God heapeth favors on bis servants ever liberal and faithful .

b.: Of ambiguous reference ; "'
L~ias promised to his father never to abandon his friends •
Dr. Prideaux used to relate that when he brought the copy of his "Connection of the Old and New Testamenta" to the bookseller, he told him it
was a dry subject, and the printing could not be safely ventured upon unless he could enliven the work with a little humor.Thus I have fairly given you, sir, my own opinion as well as that of a
great majority of both houses here, relating to this weighty affair; upon
which I am confident you may securely reckon.
They were summoned occasionally by their kings, when comp~ll.ed t
their wants and by their foes to have recourse to their aid.
He conjured the senate, that the purity of his reign might not be stain • .1
by the blood even of a guilty senator.
He atoned for the murder of an innocent s6Ii by the execution perhaps
of a guilty wife.

* Reinhard 1in his Memoirs and Confessions says, "I have always had
considerable difficulty in making a proper use of pronouns. Indeed, I have
taken great pains so to use them that all ambiguity by the reference to a
wrong antecedent should be impossible, and yet have often failed in the
attempt. . . . That it is difficult to avoid all obscurity of thia kind
I am ready to acknowledge: It can often be done only by completely
changing tiw..train of thought and casting it into another form.'' - LeUer
1µ., Boston ed. pp. 102, 103.

·; ~

. --~~ ~~~-::.

300

~...

OF CLEAHNESS IN STYLE.

OBJECTIVE PROPEinms.

versant about them, calling the operations of the first wisdom, nnd of tho
other wit, which is a Saxon word, that is used to cxpre,;s wltat the Spaniards and Italians call i119enio, and the French esprit, both from the Lnti1i;
but I think wit more peculiarly signifies that of poetry, as may occur upon
remarks on the H.unic language.' ' - Temple.
"He is supposed to. have fallen, by his father's death, iuto the hands of
his uncle, a vintner, near Charing Cros•, who sent him for some time to Dr.
Busby, at Westminster; but, not intending to gi\·e him any education beyond
that of the school, took him, when he was well advanced in literature, to his
own house, wh'ere_, the Earl of Dorset, celebrated for patronage of genius,
found him by chance, as Burnet relates, reacling Horace, and was so well
pleased with his proficiency, that he undertook the ca<e and cost of his
academical education." -Johnson's Life ef P1'i<rl'.

Their intimacy had commenced in the happier period, perhaps, of their
youth and obscurity.
We do those things frequently that we repent of a~erwards.
" Sb<tus the Fourth was, if I mistake not, a great collector of books at
least." - Boling/yroke.
"It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against the accidents of life, by
heaping up treasures, whfoh nothing can protect us against, but the good
providence of our Heavenly Father." - Sherlock.
'
"Men look with an evil eye upon the good that is in others, and think
that their reputation obscures them , and that their commendable qualities
~t>
stan d in their light; and therefore they do what th~y can to cast a cloud
- ·· over them, that the bright shining of their virtues may not obscure them."

t!l'
-

Tillotson.

301

.

2. Proximity of_related elements. The following sentences
offend against this principle of clearness : -

"This work in its full extent, being now afflicted. with an asthma, and
finding the powers of life gradually declining, he had no longer courage
to undertake." - Johnson.

The moon was casting a pale light on the numerous gm.Yes that were
scattered before me, as it peered above the horizon, when I opened the
small gate of the church-yard. .
The~e will, therefore, be two trials in this town at that time, which arc
pnnishnble with death, if a full court sho uld attend.
Mr. Dryden makes a very handsome observation on 0Yid 's writing a
le~ from Dido to .Mneas, in the following words.

§ 317. In respect to the arrangement of the members
of a sentence, clearness requires 1. That the parts of the complex thought be presented in their relative prominence and dependence ;
2. That all modifying words and clauses be kept in
close proximity with the principal words to which they
belong;
·
3. That the order be such as to indicate the dependence and connection.

3. Order of dependence. In the following sentences it is
difficult to determine which is the subject and which the object of the the verb : And thus the s9n the fervent sire addressed.
The rising tomb a lofty column bore.

1. Relation of leading and subordinate thoughts. ·\This relation is not regarded in the following sentences : - .\
·

In the following, the dependence of the italicized clause is
/
obscurely represented: -

After we came to anchor, they put me on shore, where I was welpomed by
all my friends, who received me with the greatest kindness.

As it is necessary to have the head clear a• well as the complexion, to be
peifect in this part of leai·ning, I rarely mingle with the men, but fl·eqnent

In this sentence it is difficult to tell which is the leading
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 fault is seen. in the following sen~
tences : - ;
" The usual.acceptation takes profit and pleasure for two different things, '
and not only calls the followers or votaries of them by several names of
busy and idle

mJ~• bnt.~isti~(!uishes the facnlt~es ~f -t~e
. ·_ -

t tci_ ~~tare

.!:-·:.:~·..~;~;'.·-:::.· - -.•

con·

r

i
~

the tea-tables of the ladies.

In the following sentence, obscurity is occasioned by the
position of the relative word before its antecedent : When a man declares in autumn, when he is eating them, or in the
spring, when there are none, that he loves 9'"''pes.
(

~

318. Clearness is often violated by the introduction
of long _parenthetical clauses, and especially of parentheses containing other parentheses within themselves.

1i
t

i i,

;~

I,

I(:

:··

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. ·

302

The writings of the Apostle Paul, which are characterized
more by energy than by clearness, are remarkable for this
introduction of long and involved parentheses. A remarkable instance occurs in his Epistle to the Ephesians. The S\l~
j ect of the verb is in the first verse of the third chapter, ~he
verb itself in the first verse of the fourth. The followmg
extracts furnish further exemplifications of the same fault:

'CHAPTER ill.

"It was an ancient tradition, that when the capitol was founded by one of

OF ENERGY

thJ\1loman Kings, the god Terffiinus, who presided over boundaries, and
V<\ ,\'lPresented accordin_g_ to the fashion o~ that _age, by a large. ston?, al on~;
among
the inferior ,deities, refused to yield his place to J up1ter himself.
- Gibbon's Rame.
·
" The description Ovid gives of his situation, in that first pe.riod of his existence, seems, some poetical embellishments excepted, such as, were we ~
reason a priori, we should conclude he was placed in." -Lancaster on Deli- •

t1

IN

STYLE.

§ 319. 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 style has been variously denominated, as
vivacity, strength, and .energy; all which terms, from their
etymology, point at once to the nature of the property desig- ·
p ated bv them.
1
l For the sake of clearness it will be convenient to consider
this property in respect to its two species ; as secured to
style in accordance with the other properties, or only by a certain deviation from these properties. See § 306.

cacy.

§ 320. Energy is either pruper ur fiy'Ural-ive.
PROPER Energy is secured to style in accordance
with the other properties ;
FIGURATIVE Energy, by a greater or less de'viation
from them.

\
....

Without going out of the range of the other properties
enumerated, it is obvious style may be morE\ or less modified
in accordance with their principles with a view to energetic
effect. Such modifications, made with a view to such a
vivid impression; come properly into consideration under the
head of energy.
But discourse admits of modifications with a view to
energy,-which are not properly dictated by any principles
that belong to these other properties. It is often turned from

·1

words and idioms, it is obvious the former should be habitually studied and committed to memory, while the others
should be left for matw·er reading. Conversation generally
prefers Anglo-Saxon words. Even Dr. Johnson himself, in
the familiarity and earnestness of his ordinary conversation,
employed Anglo-Saxon words, which in his written discourse
he unhappily translated into a Latinized dialect.* Hence the
study of language as employed in common life is highly use·
ful to· the orator in this respect.

the direction in which it would flow if those properties alone
controlled it. The verbal . expression of thought, as thus
turned from its patural · course, is termed figurative expressfon.

§ 321. Proper Energy, like Clearness, depends on the
kind / and number of words employed, the representative imagery, and the structure of the sentence.
§ 322. Energy requir~s, in respect to the kinds of
words employed, that Those of Anglo-Saxon origin be preferred to others ;
. Those '\if . national a~d popular use to barbarisms,
whether f~·e1gn or techmcal ; and,
The mo~e 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 etyle. It is sufficient to observe here that style admits of great modifications
in respect to the kind of words habitually employed by the
speaker, and that even great energy of thought 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 Jarlguage.
It will generally be found that the same taste and th~ same
training which have led to the habitual preference of one of
these classes of words, have ma de, also, the others most familiar and pleasing. Care should be taken · to make these 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 language which is spoken around
them. As we have authors who are characteriz!ild by this .,

m,L'~,;~~-:;,:;uh

e=llonoo and Oiliora who abuuud
-::
/

•

~·~~

.... -..
...

305

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES;· · ,.

304

'.,.

~

,...

_,

#.

§ 323. In respect to the number of words, the principle of energy is, that the utmost brevity consistent
with clearness and with the other principles of energy,
be preserved.
In the application of this principle, not only redundant
words and phrases are to be avoided, but also, the more direot an9. simple forms of expression are to be preferred to
the ·- ore circuitous and prolix. Hence, often, the sentence
should be wholly recast.
The following sentences are faulty in respect to this principle:I went home full of d great many serious reflections.

I

I shall suppose, then, in order to try to account for the vision without a
miracle, that as Saul and bis company were journeying awng in thefr way
to Damascus, an extraordinary meteor really did happen.

Neither is an:\'. condition of life more honorable in the sight of God than
otherwise he would be a respecter of persons, which he assures us he

~nother;

is not.

It will often be greatly conducive to the energetic effect

I

* ~acaulay, in. an .article in the Edinbui',qh R eview for 1831, gives the
foll owmg exemplifications. In one of Johnson's familiar let ters be says
" When we were taken up-stairs, a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed "0
whic? one of us was to lie." He records this incident in his Journey tn the
Heb1·1des thus: "Out of one of the beds on wh ich we were to repose, start ed
up at our entrance, a man black as a Cyclops from the fo rge." Sometime•
~e translated aloud. " Th e Rehearsal," he said, " has not wit eno ugh to keep
It sweet;" then, after a pause, "it has not vitality enough to prcserYe it
•
from putrefaction."
20

d

•
.,

.".

J) :.·_.
>I :~

'

~

;.

~.
!

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. ·

306

:!

of the whole expression, after having presented the thought
for the sake of clearness in a more extended form, to repeat
it in a more condensed sentence.
. .
The following extract from Burke will furnish ~n exem- "
plification : . !
"When the old feudal and chivalrous spirit of fealty, which, by freeing
kings from fear, freed both kings and subjects from the precaution of tyranny, shall be extinct in the minds of men, plots and assassinations will
be anticipated by preventive murder and 'preventive confiscation, and that
long roll of grim and bloody maxims, which form the political code of all
power, not standing on its own honor, and the honor of those who are to
obey,.it. Kinf!B will be tyrants fr()TTI .policy1 when Btlbjecta are rebda from

pri"fPle·"

.

.

.

~ 324. Energy requires the freest use of proper
representative imagery.
No principle of proper energy is more important than
this. Yet after what has been said on this element of style
under the heads of Symbolical Properties,§§ 281-284, and
Clearness, § 314, little need be added either to illustrate its
proper character or its claims to distinct and thorough study.
Effective oratory depends more, perhaps, than on any other
element, on the free use of sensible images, representing abstract objects or truth to the imagination through con!)rete
objects and scenes. In his " Art of Composition, or Proper
Sentence Construction," the author has classified tJre various
kinds of symbols of thought, and presented the principles that
govern them with copious exercises. The .trainind in style
thus rudimentally commenced should be prosecuted by the diligent study of the best orators and poets, for the special
purpose of acquiring a command of imagery. · In this study
the imagery employed should be marked, reduced to its class,
worked into the memory, impressed every way on the forming mind. There should be connected with this the diligent,
habitual study_ of sensible objects and scenes as imaging
thought. .The writings of Jean Paul Richter, who made this

•tudy

of :"''ural ·-"'Y ·

•J"oial

obj"',2'fJ r1.:of.
,.

'I. -

_;..:.

. .....

' ·'

/

",

~. ~

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

r.

307

careful study with reference to this property of style. The
bo~ksdof J~b, of the Psalms, an<l of Isaiah, are also characer1ze by 1t.
The followin!!:
. species of
~ are exemplificat1'ons of tIus
Energy:-

t

" But while I expected· h' d · fl'
.
him rising still hi he
m is . armg ight his final ruin and fall, behold
ment . . Yes he d~d r, ankd commg. down souse upon both houses of parlia'
1 ma e you his quarry
d
.
1vounds o( his ta!
y
• an you st1 11 bleed from the
Burke.
ons.
ou crouched, and still crouch, beneath his rage." " I have not allowed myself · t I k
might lie hidden in the dark rede:;be~·~~ ~erond the Union, to. see what
chances of preservin lib t
' .
ave not coolly weighed the
be broken asunder g I her y, when the boads that unite us together shall
pice of disunion to. se ave not a?customed myself to hang over the preciof the abyss bel~w." .::.._w;;,.:~:;;;,with my short sight, I can fathom the depth
"Wh th
1
·
its longi~~ focr ~~u di:~:~~~:s it w~ret m;der llie willows of exile, breathes out
note of its song? " - A. W:mSe, hwl ia I e se but melancholy can be the key"
. c ege.
"If
a
man
meets
with
·
·
· · not required that he shall not be roused
to me.· it · b t 'f h .' IUJUS t'ice, it1s
sinful.. -· Th' flu I ·e is angry 'after
· he has· ha d t'ime to t h'mk upon it, tbat is
"
e ame IS not wrong, but the coals are." - H. W. B eeche1·.
It

isT:ep':';;!d~sa~~~a:t~~~fo~r~e~eh~r:~;~~ill hear Th~lberg piano-playing.

sa~d-papers.

l~strument

thea:s~~~~;~t!•h:~~~ft:~~P,8.:_a;;

The perfect
aµd
Because they cannot bail out the ocean w· h
the ocean becomes to them a thing of doubtf lit ~be hollow of their hand,
u existence."
"The wound of conscience is no scar. Tim
l .
.
merely keeps it open with his scythe.','- Ri:/~t~~.," it not with his wing, but
"In the burning-glass and m
·iy·
.
us the light playing worms of agm. mg-mirror of consequences, fate shows
ries and se:peuts." - Id. .
our mner man as grown-up and armed fu" H'is h ours were no more harmoniously sounded out by the chime of 10
aµd poesy, but monotonously by the steeple-clock of every-day routine.,, _ ;d~

§ 325. Energy, in the structure of tlie sentence, depends, First, On the preservation of unity in the general
form of the sentence ·
Secondly, On the ' r1' g ht d'ispos1t10n
· ·
of the capital
words and members ; and,

308

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

Thirdly, On the disposition of coordinate or correlative words or members.

§ 326,

in a sentence is preserved by the presentation of but one leading subject, § 317, and by the
binding together of
the parts in one compact whole.
UNITY

all

f

"\

'~-

11 ·

~

The first element of unity here mentioned - singleness of
leading subject - has been sufficiently considered under the
head of clearness.
The second - .compactness - appears in style in the periodic structure, § 269, in which the leading member of the
. sentence, being placed last, binds the whole tOgether into
one compact whole.
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.

Th~

.

.. .

-- r~

. .:. .

;. . i- ~~

f

--

other species of motion are incidentally blended also.

Seeing the delay of repentance doth mainly rely upon the hopes and
encouragement of a future repentance, let us consider a little how unreasonable these hopes are, and how absurd the encouragement is which men take
from them.
" But it is absurd to think of judging either Ariosto or Spenser by precepts which they did not attend to." - Watson.

"There is something in the present business, with all that is horribl e to
create aversion, so vilely loathsome as to excite disgust. It is, my lords,
surely superfiuous 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 condemnition." Sheridan.
·
.
\ .
· \

This principle forbids commencing ot closing a sentence
with circumstantial words or clauses, unless it is desired to
give them an emphatic distinction. In merely didactic discourse, such clauses are admissible because they often cpnduce to clearness.and readiness of apprehension. ·· In· earnest
oratory they can never be justified except, as hJ been just

observed, when they are made emphatic. In this case, placing them at the beginning or the close at once gives them a
high degree of force and impressiveness.
We find in the Latin language a happy exemplification
of this principle of energy. When Mucius Scmvola in Livy
wishes to turn the attention of Porsenna on the fact that
he was a Roman, he says, Romanus sum civis. On the otlier
hand, when Gavius in Cicero's Oration against Verres was
urging his rights as a citizen, not merely as a Roman, he
says, Oivis Romanus 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 : Ewy nature you perceive is either too excellent to want it, or too base
to be capable of it.

"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 ' 'ices." - Burke.

§ 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.

309

,.,
i 1":

"There need no more than to make such a regiHtry only voluntary, to
avoid all the difficulties tbat can be raised, and which are not too captious
or too trivial to take notice of." - Temple.
" In like manner, if a person in broad daylight were falling asleep, to
introduce a sudden darkness would prevent his slee p for tliat tim e, th ougb
silence and darkness in themselves, ancl not suddenly introduccil, are ,·cry
favorabl e to it. This I knew only by conjecture on the analogy of th e
senses wh'en I first digested these observations; but I have since experienced it." - Burke.

The following extracts, on the other liand, furni sh instances of this kind of energy : In their prosperity my friends shall never hear of me; in their adversity,
always.
Trne liberty, in my opinion, can only exist wh en justice is eq1rnll.1• •dminstered to all, to the king and to the beggar.

-, ,

310

~

~

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

·. OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

The following are from his orations; the first from that
for Ligarius, the second from the oration for Roscius Amerinus: -

in the present instance, have I observed that safeN ever, soc!early as
.
·
f
guard of justice which Providence. has placed m the nature o man.
No: I am no emissary-my ambition was to hold a pl~ce among the
deliverers of my country_ not in power, not in profit, but Ill the glory of
ti ·a chievement! Sell my country's independence to France! ancl for
ie
'
what?
A change of masters? No: but for am b'f
i ion·

"Nihil hnbet nee fortuna tua mnjns quam ut possis, nee nnturn tun melius
quam ut velis, conservare plurimos."
"Aceusant ii, quibus occidi patrem Sexti Roscii bono fuit; cnusnm dicit i~,
cui non modo luctum inors patris altulit, vemm etiam egestatem. Accusant ii, qni hunc ipsum jugulare SUIQme cupierunt; causam elicit is, qui
etiam ad hoc ibidem ante ~culos vestros trucidetur."

Under this species of energy may be ranked what has
been denominated the Climax ; or that structure of the se~­
tence in which the different members succeed each other. m
-order of strength or importance, the most impressive bemg
· placed last.
.
'
The follo~ing are examples : , ...
In · the middle of ·t he day, at the moment of divine worship, when the
miserable husband was on his knees, directing the prayers ~nd the thanksgiving of his congregation to their God - that moment did the remorse·
less etc.
Impose upon me whatever hardships you please; give me nothing but the
bread of sorrow to eat; take from me the friend in whom I had placed my
confidence; Jay me in tho cold hut of poverty and o~ the thorny bed of
disease; set before me death in all its terrors; d? all this~ only let. ~e trust
in my Saviour, ancl I will fear no evil - I will rise supenor to affhct1on - 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 ~o
each other and reflect on each other, so to speak, then'
own force.
.
I
I
The Latin acd Greek languages, through the v~riety of
their inflections, admitted this species of ene~gy to \a much·
greater degree than most modern tongues. Cicero says that
the following expression drew forth wonderful applause
from the audience : " Patris dictum sapiens, temeritas filii comprobavit."

*

• Orator, 63. Hoc dichoreo tantus clamor concionis excitatus. e~t, ut
admirabile est. If the double trochee at the close had its e_ffect, ~t is yet
questionable whether the energy of the expression is not owmg still,more ,
to the admirable arrangement of the words, which ~ ·~~~let:st perfectly

-

-·-,~ ~ ,""·-~·
'

~

.Jr,.

311

In our own language, the following sentences may be
given as illustrations : Never before were so many opposing interests, . passions, and principles
committed to such a decision. On one side nn attachment to the ancient
order of things, on tlie other a passionate desire of change; a wish in some
to perpetuate, 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 j ealousy of power shrinking from the slightest innovation, pretensions to freedom pushed to madness and anarchy; superstition iu all its
dotage, impiety in all its fury.

•

s,ulle~nd severe without religion, profligate without gayety, you live
like Ch~ es 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 obje{:t may be effected, for the n;ost part, by
means just the reverse of those w_!iich have been prescribed for imparting energy.
The English language, from the very heterogeneousness
of its origin, allows, more than most other languages, this

,. .

to answer to each other. "Patris" and '' filii" arc at the extremes ;
" sapiens" and "teineritas" in the middle in juxtaposition, and the one
at the close, the other at the commencement of the respective members to
whi ch they belong; and the unrelated word "dictum " thrown as far as
possible out of view. · The whole sentence is bound together by the verb,
which, as the most important word, occupies th e last place in the sentence.
We have, besides, the inversion of th e obj ect before the subject. To nil
' this is lo be added the harmony of the whole. There is here a combiriation of m.a ny excellences of style.

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312

313

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

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. Here belong those
expressions usually denominated Euphemisms, which are
employed to soften or weaken the impression made by the
more appropriate representation. Here, also, belongs the
anti-climax. The following are exemplifications: 1. In the kind of words :

§ 331. Those forms of figurative energy wh!ch depend on the kind of words employed, arc denominated
Tropes, which may be defined as follows : A TROPE is a word employed for the sake of enercry
0
in a different import from that which is proper to it.

'

The toast concludes with a patriotic wish for all his persuasion, by the F
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 writ.es,
For well-soled boots, no less than fights.
Often a very small matter takes away the mark of that -!'.:east whose
name shall not be mentioned here.

2. In the number of words :
"They did that which every master would have wished his servants to
do in such an exigency: " instead of, " They killed Clodius."

3. In the arrangement of words :
Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.

§ 330. Figurative energy is founded ~ither, ~ 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 w~l as of clearness, would represent it in the
light of the absolute and subjective properties of style, and
follow the method fur~ished 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 named above.
.
. :~·::r·~,~--.~

/

It is obvious to remark that tropes are figurative uses of
the pr0per import of words. A tropical impropriety is denominated a catachresis.
A trope presupposes two objects which when compared
resemble each other in some respect. The name appropriated
to the one is used to denote the other object. A trope
is thus, as its name imports, a turn or change in the use of
a word.

~ 332. Tropes impart energy to style by r epresenting' the object in a more individual or sensible form
than f ie proper denomination of it; and thus brinO"in<r
-it more impressively befor~ the imagination, as sc;te~
instead of dominion; Homer instead of the H omeric
·poems; Britain instead of the government of Great

Britain.

.

~ 333. Tropes may be distributed into two classes
according as they are founded on a r esemblance of
properties, or a resemblance of relations.
· The former class may be denominated simple tropes;
the latter are called metaplwrs.
All tropes are founded on resemblance, or, more philosophically speaking, on a more or less perfect identity. This
partial identity or resemblance can always be traced even in
the most remote cases. When we say, thus, " Th e cresceut
. wanes," instead of, "The .Mohammedan power declines,'" we
first conceive of the flag of that power from its chara et,,risric
symbol; and then of the power itself from the 11:1:.; wl1id1
represents it ; and in both cases the conception is founrfo<l

t.

:

.Jo.
314

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OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

on a species of local identity. The place of the crescent is
in the flag; · and of the flag with the presence of the power
or authority. Without this identity, the mind has no power
to conceive of the object represented. If the identity respect only one or two obscure particulars, or, in other words,
if the resemblance be but faint and dim, the trope is cataclirestic - harsh and far-fetched. The explanation of trap.ical energy is hence obvious. By the trope, the mind addressed is placed in a certain place or time or analogous relation, from which it views the object represented; as in t~
trope "a boisterous multitude," the, mind is referred to a furious wind.swelling and roaring, and in that sensible image perceives the characteristic given in the epithet .to the "multitude."
Hence, when a word originilly tropical ceases, from familiar use, to call up the sensible or singular object or scene to
which it properly refers, it loses its tl'Opical ch;uacter. It is
no" longer titrned from its accepted.import. Such is the tend~
ency in the progress of language with all tropes.
Here we find the explanation of the fact that the same
discourse pleases an imaginative mind skilled in the use of language and accustomed to refer the words to the sensible obj ect which they originally represented, that, to another 'mind,
seems wholly destitute of beauty. H erc, too, is found the
explanation of the peculiar energy and beauty, of tha t species
·?f style which pu~ the i:Uagination of the re~der constantly
rn the way of making this reference.
\
·
These general observations apply with eqnal force to the
second class of figures or those founded on the representative
imagery.

§ 334. Simple Tropes are of two species: ~
1. Those in which the objects compared differ m
quantity, whether of extent or degree ; and,
2. Those in which the objects differ in kind.

A Trope of th• former 'peei·e' ;,

.'"J.:

a ,8yne'.'""eho,

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OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

l

as " Cicero " instead of " orator; " "a sail " for " a
vessel."
A trope of the latter species is called a JIIetonymy ;
as "the father o/ 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 tho world,"· for "Great
Britain." - Mirabeau.
"~thousands,"

for" great numbers."

The following are instances of the latter variety : Romanus proelio victor, for Romani.
" Some village Hampden that, with dauntless breast,
l'
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood." -Gray.
-So thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan : yet L eonidas
is trampled by the timid slave, etc.

§ 336. When the whole is put for a part, or the class
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
" we " is thus less egotistical than the singular " I."

§ 337. A METONYMY is a trope in which the ol~ject
is represented by a word properly applied to something
else that differs in kind from the rep resented oqject.
The additional energy imparted to the cx pressio11 hy tliis
trope is owin9 to the circumstance that the object is r<'prc-

816

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

sented by means of one more familiar, or more readily conceived, in consequence of its being single or cognizable by
the senses.
·
The different varieties of this trope may be thus classified:1. Cause represented by the effect, 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 following is on that of place.
2. Substance by quality, property, or accident, and vice
versa ; as, " the sun " for " the heat of the sun ; " " Brutus "
for "inflexible firmness ; " -"wealth count$_ its cattle" for
"the man of wealth."
--, - · 1 "'· •
• ·.' '
Here belongs the metonymy of the sign for the thing signified, and the r everse ; as " scepter " for " dominion."
3. The time, for what existed or transpired in it, and vice
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."
By the use of an epithet the trope is made more significant
and vivid, as : ·
·
· ·
Streaming grief his faded cheek bedewed.

Here grief, the cause, is _tropically used for tears, the effect
- the epithet streaming- properly characterizing only the
latter.

§ 338. A METAPHOR is a trope in which the representation of the object is effected by the use of a word
properly denoting something analogous ; and is founded
on a resemblance or identity of relations.
A metaphor being founded on an identity of relation is by

: . -.: : .

.

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. I

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OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

this distinguished from simple tropes,(§ 333.) The nature of
the metaphor may be seen from the following illustratious: " Time had plowed his vencraulc front."

fhe word " plowed" is here used metaphorically. The
use of it is justified on the ground of the analogy of the effect
of literal plowing to that of time. In other words, what
the driving of the plow is to the soil, time was to the forehead. The resemblance on which the metaphor is founded
. is obviously one of relation and not of properties.
Oh! when the growling winds contend, and .all
The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm,
To sink in warm repose and hear the din
Howl o'er the steady battlements -

(

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There is' in these lines an accumulation of metaphors, all
clearly distinguishable by the characteristic named froni the
simple trope. The winds are said to growl from the analogy
of th~ 'l}f~ct on the mind to . the growls of .a wolf. What
growlin 0 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 ho~ling of the din over the battlement."
It is to be observed that in the first and last
these metaphors there is, besides the metaphor, also, the figure of personification.
Metaphors, like simple tropes, are of two classes, which
may be called Metaphors of Synecdoche and Metaphors of
Metonymy. Thus in the distich : -

of

Apollo bade me check my fond desire,
Nor on the vast Tyrrhenian spread my little sail.

"Tyrrhenian" is a metaphorical synecdoche, being used
for any large sea ; which is to a little bark what epic themes
were to the lyric spirit of Horac~.
The following is a metaphor of metonymy : Or have ye chosen this place
After the toils of battle, to repose
Your wearied virtue 1 ·.

.

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OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

3Hl

certain words which the ordinary forms of expression
do not admit or require.

1. Those figures which consist in a change fo the
nature or relations of the represented object;
2. Those which consist m comparison or contrast;
and,
3. Those which consist in a deviation from the ordinary mode of expressing the mental condition of
the speaker.
'

§ 340. This class of figures includes Figurative Rep•
etition and Ellipsis.

§ 342. The first class of R epresentative Figures includes those of Vision, Personification, and H!Jperbole.

"Virtue" is here used for the persons to whom it belongs,
and " wearied virtue" is a metaphor.

§ S39. Figurative Energy ~s depending on the number of words consists in a repetition or an omission of

I

FIGURATfVE REPETITION includes Epizeuxis where the
word is immediately repeated without any intervening word
or clause, as, " The introducers of the now-established principles of political economy may fairly be considered to have
made a great discovery; a disco.very the more creditable,"
etc. ; and Epanalepsis, where a word or clause intervenes, as,
" The persecutions undergone by the Apostles furnished both
a trial to their faith, and a confirmation to ours : a trial to
them," etc.
The repetition of connectives belongs to this class, and is
called Polysyndeton ; as, " Such a man might fall a victim to
power ; but truth and reason and liberty would fall with
hi m. "
And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men\ and the
chief-captains, and the mighty men, and every bond:_man, an~ ev ry freeman, bid themselves in the dens and in the rocks ~ f the mountams.
1

ELLIPSIS is the omission of a word or words which would_
be supplied in the ordinary form of expres~ion ; as, ·
Hereditary bondmen! know ye not,
Who would be free, themselves mnst strike the blow?

The Ellipsis of connectives··is termed Asyndeton; as, Veni,
vidi, vici.
· ·

§ 341. Those forms of Figurative Energy which depend on the: representative imagery in.c~~de_ tlr~~ . species: -

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VISION is a figure in which the object, although really remote, is r~presented as present in time or place.
This figure, which is founded on a represented change in
the relations of the object to time or place, is exceed ingly
common ; and is found C1 style of all degrees of energy and
veherif'mce. The following are illustrations : "He was chosen: hi• forces were collected with the utmost rliligcnce : he
marched as if toward Cyrrha. But now, farewell at once to all regard
either to the Cyrrheans or the Locrians ! He seizes Elatea." -Demosthenes vn
the Crow1>.

'

·

" The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to embark for his native
country, is brought before the wicked prretor. With eyes darting fury, and
a countenance distorted with cmelty, he orders the helpless victim of his
rage to be stripped, 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." - _<;:ice1'o against Verres.
"Advance, then, ye future generations. We would hail you, as you rise in
your long succession, to fill tbe places which we now fill, and to taste the
blossings or'existence, where we are passing, and soon shall have passed our
own human duration. We bid you welcome· to this pleasant land of the
Fathers." - Webste1'.

The figure in this last example is specifically denominated
an apostrophe. It is in truth, however, a combination of vision and apostrophe. § 344.
, PERSONIFICATION is a figure in which inanimate objects
and qualiti_f:ls are represented as living beings.
This likewise is a very common figure. Indeed, as many
words in every language which were originally applieu to

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

320
inanimate 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 apos·
trophe.

1..

Presume to lay their hand upon the ark
Of her magnificent nnd awful cause?

1:

HYPERBOLE is a figure in which the object is represented
as magnified or diminished beyond reality.
As vision is founded 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

" But look, the mom, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill."-:-- Shakespeare• .
" With such delay
Well pleased, they slack their course, and many a league,
Cheered with the grateiul smell, obi Ocean smiles." - Milton.

tj'

"In like manner, Liberty herself, the last and best gift of God to his creat-

ures, must be taken just as she is. You may pare her dowh into bashful
regularity, and shape her into a perfect model of severe, scrupulous law; but
she will be Liberty no longer." -Erslci,ne.
"When Natural Religion has thus viewed both, ask her, Which is the
prophet of God? But her answer we have already had, when she sa,w part
of this scene through the eyes of the centurion who attended at th~ cross.
By him she spoke, and said: ' Truly this man was the Son of God.' " Comparison of the Reliffam of Christ and of Mohammed in She1'loclc' s Ser1

l

The opposite of this flgure, 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 soldiershfp and sense,
Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth ··
And tender as a girl all essenced o'e~
·
· With odors and as profligate as sweet;
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,
And lo\•e when they should fight: when such ail these

"A Jover may bestride the Gossamer,
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall - so light is vanity." -Shakespeare.

T
ii
.,

The peculiar nature of.the English language, which applies no distinctions of gender to objects destitute of sex,
makes the use of this flgure at once easy and forcible. The
simple application of a personal pronoun implying sex to an
inanimate object at once invests it with personality.

mons.

"I saw their chief, tall as a rock of ice; his spear, the fir; his shield, the
rising moon: he sat on the shore, like a cloud of mist on the hill." - Ossian.
:1

"Ye woods and wilds, whose melancholy gloom
Accords with my soul's sadness, and draws forth•
. The tear of sorrow.from my bursting heart,
Farewell awhile." -Home.

321

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He was the owner of a bit of g<Qund not larger than a Lacedemonian
'
letter. -

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The minds ohhe aged are like the tombs to which they are approaching ;
where, though the brass and the marble remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced .by time, and the imagery has moldered a way •

§( 43. The second class of R epresentative Figures,
being founded Oll' a comparison of one object with another, includes those of Comparison Proper and Simile,
·
.
Contrast, Allegory, .and Allusion.
This class of figures differs from the flrst class in this, that
while the latter confine the view to the object itseif and only
represent it as changed in its relations, in its nature, or its
degree, those of the second class go out from the object it. self and represent it"only through the light of some other to
which it bears some resemblance.
The COMPARISON PROPER is a flgure in which the properties 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 essentiql to the comparison that
't he words of. comparison, "like," "as," " so,'' etc., be actually expressed; although the term "metaphor,'' or " meta21

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

322

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

phorical 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 are 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, indicate only a partial resemblance. If the poet had
said, " Be not dumb, driven cattle," the expression, if al- ·
lowed by the meter, would be felt , at once to be stronger
and bolder than the comparative form which he adopts, - " Be
not like dumb, driven cattle."
The SIY...ILE differs only in form from Ll:ie compari~ori.
-The term '· simile" turns the mind on the object to which
· the theme is likened as the prominent thing. In the simile,
accordingly, the representative 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 glances on the rocks ; spirits ride on beams of fire ;
and the. st.r ength of the mountain-streams comes running down
the hills : so was the voice of battle." In the simile, the representative· object would be presented 'as the leading\ theme ;
as, " Thou hast seen the sun retire red and slow be~ind his
cloud ; night gathering round on the mountain ; wl~ile the
unfrequent blast roared in narrow vales. At length the raiu
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 battfe." Differing thus slightly, the simile
and the comparison are very commonly confounded.
The comparison is happily employed to introduce metaphorical expression, as : " Every action, like a st;atue, must
first be modeled in the miserable wax of words." / · ·
·
CoNTRA.ST is a figure in which the object is represented

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323

by another similar object, but the attention is turned on the
opposition or voi11"8 of Jifforcncc between them.
Contrast thus involves compari son, since thr~ re ca11 be 110
contrast between things entirely dissimilar. It ditfors from
comparison in this, that while it assumes the resemblance it
goes further and dwells on the points of opposition or dissimilarity.
I.

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The destruetion of a dangerous error which had widely extended its dominion is a glorious victory won by the friends of truth, armcll only wi~h
tbe weapons of faith. Such a conqueror no streams of blood accompany: m
his train are no desolated fields.

':['he ALLEGORY is but an extended simile, in which the
comparative words arc omitted.
The Ullcgory~ the parable, and the fa bl~ bPl011g t.o thA
same class of figurative forms of representation ; :rnd their
distinctions are not nicely observed in the common use of
l~uage. It is sufficient to remark of them that the fable
i~ distinguished from the proper allegory by being Hhorter
and also by being narrative or historical. It is founded on
an imaginary event; whereas an allegory may be descriptive. The term parable is more strictly confined to allegories which are either_narrative or descriptive, of a moral or
religious character ;Jwhich are, moreover, founded on real
scenes or events, as those of Christ.
One of the finest examples of the allegory is in the eight'
eth Psalm, from the eighth verse to the sixteenth inclusiv<0
The " Pilgrim's Progress," by Bunyan, is another fine eAemplification of the extended allegory.
Of the allegory Felltham has well said : - " Truth may
dwell more clearly in an allegory or a moraled fable than in
a bare narrative."
The ALLUSION is a species of comparison in whfoh, while
the comparat.ive wo1·1'!8 ri.rf\ omitted, the represented object is
still made the leading theme.
By t}?.is last characteristic it is distinguished from the allegory; hi. which, as in the simile, the representative ~bject is

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325

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

the leading theme. It differs from one class of metaphorJ
only in being more extended. Indeed, tills clqss of metaphors; referring to a real · scene or event, are denominated
metaphorical allusions, or allusive metaphors ; ·as, " The selfseeking will betray his friend or brother with a Judas-kiss."
" The invisibility of the knight constituted a part of his greatness; and the Mos~s-veil doubled the glory which it concealed."
The following are additional illustrations of this class of
figures:-

or the nature of the thought or feeling represented
.itself.

324

The first species 1s PROSOPOP<EIA, in which the speaker
personates another; as where .llfilo is introduced by Cicero
as speaking through his lips: " Attend, I pray; hearken, 0
citizens: I have killed Publius Clodius by this sword arnl by
this right hand; I have kept off his rage from your necks,
which no laws, no courts of judicature, could restrain," etc.
It is sometimes joined with personification, in which case
inanimate or irrational things are represented as speaking ;
as in Cicero's first oration against Catiline, the republic is
made the speaker and addresses Cicero himself: " What are
you doing? Ar~ you suffering him whom you have founu
to be an enemy, who you see ·is to be at the head of the war,
whom you p'erceive our enemies wait for in their camp as
their gene~, who has been the contriver of this wickedness,
the chief of1 the conspiracy, the exciter of slaves and profligate citizens, to leave the City which is rather to bring him
in than let him out? Wi~ ~ou not order him to be imprisoned, condemned, and executed? "
Sometimes this figure takes the form of a colloquy or a
dialogue. This was the ancient sermocinatio.

"He [the small poet] wHl . take three grains of 1wit like the elixir, and
projecting it upon the iron age, turn it immediately into gold. All the business of mankind has presently vanished; the whole world has kept holiday; there have _been no men but heroes and poets, no women but nymphs
and shepherdesses; trees have borne fritters, and rivers· flowed plum-porridge. ' Vhen he writes, he commonly steers the sense of his lines by the
rhyme that is at the end of them, as butchers do calYes by their tails. For
when. he has made one line, which i• ~asy enough, and has found out some
sturdy hard word that will but rhyme, he will hammer the sense upon
it, like a piece of hot iron upon an anvil, into what form he pleases." - S.
Butler.
"Some are called at age at fourteen, some at one-and-twenty, some never;
but all men late enough; for the life of a man comes upon him slowly and
insensibly. But as when the sun approaches toward the gates of the morning, he first opens a little eye of heaven, and sends away t.he spirits of darkness; and gives light to a cook, and calls up the lark to matins, and by and
by gilds the fringes of a cloud, and peeps O\'er the eastern hills, thrusting
out his golden horns, like th_ose which decked the brows of Moses when
was forced to wear a veil, because himself had seen the face of God; a11d
still, while a man tells the story, the sun gets up higher, till he shows a ra\r
face and a full light, and then he shines one whole day, under a cloud often,
and sometimes weeping great and little showers, and sets quickly; . so is ~
man's reason and his life." - J. TayU;r.
We reckon more than five months to harvest.
That Marah was never dry. No art could sweeten, no draught could exhaust its perennial waters of bitterness.

How does God reveal himself in Nature? She answers thee with loud
voices, with a thousand tongues: God is lo\'e,

\ie

§ 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 _J;espect
the personality of the speaker, that,--of_'.the ~ .h~~t::•
-.. ·~

'.-

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•

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The second species is APOSTROPHE, in which the speaker,
instead of addressing directly his proper hearer, turns himself to some other person or thing, either really or only in
imagination present.
This figure abounds in the orations of Cicero. Thus in
his first against Catiline : " I desire, senators, to be merciful,
but not to appear negligent in so great dangers of the State ;
though at present I cannot but cond'3mn myself of remissness. There is a camp formed in Italy at tirn entrance of
Etruria, against . the State; our enemies increase daily ; but
we see the commander of the camp and general of the ene-

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OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

Have any alarms been occasioned by the emancipation of our Catholic
., brethren? Has tJrn bigoted malignity of nny iLHlivi<luals been crn,hed? or
has the stabil ity of the government or that of the cou ntrv been weakened?
or is one million of subjects stronger than four millions. .
.

mies within our walls, in the very senate, contriving some
intestine ruin to the State. If, now, Catiline, I should order
you to be seized and put ~ death," etc.
Again, in his defense of Milo, he turns to his 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 third species of figures of this class which respect a
change in the represented conception of the object by the
speaker from the reality, includes . irony, doubt, and interro-

§ 345. Those forms of Figurative Energy which depend on the structure of the sentence r espect either the
order and connection of the parts, or the completeness
and length of the entire sentence.
They include Inversion and Anacoluthon, Aposiopesis
and S ententiousness.

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 of
playfulness or scorn and contempt.

i,

" I know not which way to turn myself. Shall I deny the scandal thrown
upon him of bribing the judges? Can lsay, the people were not told of it? "

'

INTERROGATION is a figure in which a strong and confident assertion ~s represented under the form of an inquiry
or demand.

vl

I

I

DOUBT, also called aporia and dubitatio, is a figure in
which the speaker represents himself as in doubt, for the pur' pose of winning a stronger confidence from the hearers.
Thus, Cicero in his oration for Cluentius : -

I

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ii

\

\

':'

.....

But, !\Ir. Speaker, "we have a right to tax America." 0 inestimable
right I 0 wonderful, transcenclont right! the assertion of which has cost
this country thirteen provinces, six islands, one. hundred thousand lives, and
seventy millions of money. 0 invaluable right! for the sak<> of which
we have sacrificed our rank among nations, 0 ur importance abroad, and our
happiness at home!

etc.

346. INVERSION is a figure in which the arrangement . of the parts of a sentence is changed from the
usual synt~ctical order.

,\

" Silence at length the gay Antinous broke,
Constrained a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke:
What god to you, untutored youth, affords
·
This headlong torrent of amazing words!
May Jove delay thy reign, and cumber late
So bright a genius with the cares of state1"
· Odyssey, I. 490.

327

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The general principle of energy in regard to the arrange1Bnt of the parts of a sentence is, that the more important
words ' or phrases be placed first or last, and the less importaIJ.t ~e thrown into the middle. This principle, indeed, applies also to the arrangement of words in the members.
Words of transition, of every class, as " however," " besides,"
"therefore,'' and the ~ike, should in accordance with this
principle be thrown, whenever practicable, into 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 the last on the 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, however, 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 deviatious from
the ordinary structure of the sentence.
As the subject is naturally the first thing to be presented

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328

32!)

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

to the mind, our language requires that ordinarily it be

§ 347. ANACOLUTHON is a figure in which, for the
sake of energy, the orator drops the g rammatical form
with which he had commenced and adopts another not
syntactically reconcilable with it.

placed first in the sentence. But sometimes .it is the predicate
7 in whole or in part, or the mode of the copula, upon which
the orator wishes the attention more particularly to be fixed. ·
To accomplish 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 ; such as, there, there is, it is.
There is a feeling of the sublime in contemplating 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. There is a gracefulness in
th~ picture of a youthful warrior burning for distinction on the field, etc.
It gives me pleasure to advance a further testimony in behalf of that
government with which it has pleased God, who appointed to all ·men
the bounds of their habitation, to bless .t hat portion of the. globe that we
occupy.

It is the gospel of Jesus Chri'St which has poured the light of day iu to
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 faithful dogs howl on his hills, and his boars which he used to pursue, rejoice. Fallen is the arm of battle; the mighty among the valiants
•.
. I
is low!

Further, the qualifying parts of a senten~e, when they are
to be made emphatic, may· be placed first without violating
the principles of the language. ·
So deeply were they impressed with the sense of their wrorigs, that they
would not even accept of life from their oppressors.
·

Once more, in the objective relation of the sentence, our
language ordinarily requires that the object follow its verb.
For the sake of energy, however, inversion is often allowable
here.

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This figure, common in the classical writings, is rarely
allowable in our languag~. Only strong passion can warrant it, as it seems to iclply such a degree of emotion in
the speaker as to destroy the recollection of grammatical
forms.
These forms in the English language are so few and simple compared with the number in the Greek and the Latin,
that 'the emotion must be extreme indeed, which could
be supposed violent enough to supplant the knowledge of
them.
/} ~ 348. APOSIOPESIS is a figure in which the feelings
of tlfe speaker induce him to interrupt the expression
and leave the sentence incomplete.
This figure, by its dii:ect 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 ·J Eschines: "0 thou - by what name can
I properly call thee ? "
Must I remember? why she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on; yet, within a month Let me not think- Frailty thy name is woman.

§ 349. SENTENTIOUSNESS is a deviation from that
continuousness in style which thought naturally requires, (~ 295.) It characterizes that discourse which
is broken up into short and abrupt sentences.
The women, in their turn; learned to be more vai n, more gay, and more
alluring. They grew studious to please and to conquer. Th ey Inst somewhat of the intrepidity and firmnC'ls which before were characteristic of
them. They were to affect a delicacy and a weakness. Their ct!11cation
was to be ~ rui object of greater attention and care. A finer sense of duty
was to arise.

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330

OF ENERGY IN STYLE.

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 !tis veins? Does he not experience hunger and thirst?

never be violated. No real energy is gained to discourse
by the introdu.ction of a figure which 1s uuintelligible or
obscure.

" 'Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire
it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but
submission and slavery. Our chains arc forged. Their clanking may
heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable, and let it come.
repeat it, sir, let it come."

it,
in
be
I

§ 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 extended no further than is necessary for distinct apprehension.

§ 350. There are certain general principles which
apply to the use of figures and which should be carefully observed.
·
The first respects the occasion of using them ; it
requires that they never be introduced unless there
be fit and suitable ground for them in the feelings of
. the speake;.
So far as figures appear to be sought after, they ind'icatc
labor and affectation which are in themselves most hostile to
energy. The proper rule to be observed in reference to propriety in the use of figures, is that, while familiarity be
obtained by previous study with the various kinds of figures,
such . only be actually employed in discourse as spring up
naturally at the time.

§ 351. The second principle respects the number

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OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

of figures ; it forbids a too frequent repetition\ of them,
and, especially, the frequent repetition of 'he same
figure.
·
\

§ 352. The third principle respects the
the ordinary essential properties of style ;
that figurative expressions should be in
with the necessary principles that govern
erties.

relation to
it requires
conformity
those prop-

Figures are deviations from the ordinary forms of speech,
· but can never be properly violations of its ess~ntial properties. In the· use of figures, accordingly, the; principles of
1
etymology, syntax, and lexicography, for .e ample, shoul~l

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The liability to an offense against this principle is greatest
in the case of the representative figures. Whenever these
are pr;:sented confusedly and with in congruous features they
offend rather than impress. So, also, while otle11 sive a11rupt1~;ss and · incompleteness are to be avoirletl, the figure should
never be extended further than the imagination of the hearer
needs in order to grasp it intell igibly awl fully. Jn the simile
or. comparison, for instance, to carry out the ligurc into every
possible resemblance weakens as well as disgusts, and is fatal
to Ciie l'f,')'.
The follo\Ting extracts exemplify violations of this principle:"There is not a single view of human nature which is not sufiicicnt to.
extinguish the seeds of pride.'' - Addison.
"Men must acquire a very peculiar and strong habit of turning their eye
inwards, in order to explore the interior regions and recesses of the mind,
the hollow caverns of deep thought, the private seats of fancy, and the
wastes and wildernesses, as well as the more fruitful and cultivated tracts,
of this obscure climate." - Shaftesbury.
"These are the first-fruits of my unfledged eloquence, of which thou hast
oft complained that·it was buried in the •bade."
"Upon thy mirror, earth's majestic view,
To paint thy presence, and to feel it too.''

OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

CHAPTER IV.
OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

§ 354. BEAUTY in style is that property by virtue of
which the discourse is_commended to the taste of the
hearer. -

333

The particulars in the cpnstruction of discourse to be
attended to in order to conform it properly to the tas te of
the hearer may be ascertained at once from the analysis of
heanty or form as the proper o~ject of the taste or passive
imagination. In all objective beauty or form, then, there
itre to be recognized at once three essential constituents, something revealed, something in which it is revealed, and
the revelation itself; just as in a judgment there are the three
elements, - that of which something is thought, that which is
thought of it, and the more vital element of the judging act
tself. Now nothing can be revealed to mind save mind
itself; and if we may use the term in its widest, yet a
legitimi:te, import, as denoting any form of the mind whatever,. including forms of the mind as feeling and willing as
wt".ll as those of knowing, we may call that which is revealed
in all beauty or form idea. The elements of beauty depending on its idea - its proper content revealed in any object
of beauty according as it is a form of the intelligence, the
sensibility, or the ~l, - are propriety, tone of sentiment, and
grace.
Of these elements, propriety is founded on the unity and
harmony of the parts and relations of an object which are the
indispensable conditions of our intelligently apprehending it.
"\Ve cannot know an object except so far as it is Oll C the
internal parts of which are in congruence or harmony, so
that they can be grasped together in thought, and the external
relations of which are in like congruence or harmony wi th
all surrounding objects of our knowledge. The worrl tone
is fitly and eminently in the literature of art applied to
the expression of feeling. And the te1:m ,grace is as fitly ,.
and currently applied to an object of beauty so far as
apprehended as activity; grace is the form of activity as
perfect, that is, as free, unshackled, and unconstrained by
outer force.
The matter in which the idea or content in beauty is revealed, so far as discourse 'is concern ed with it, is of three

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335

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

gradatians. In the first place, the idea to be expressed
shapes itself ever in some specific form-some ideal which
is rightly viewed as the internal matter in which thought
and feeling and purpose express themselves. In the next
place, as has been repeatedly represented already, this ideal
to be communicated to another mind is invested more or less
in what we have called the representative imagery of thought.
Still further, we have the third gradation of human speech
consisting of a udible, articulate sounds, in which thought in
discourse finally embodies itself; . Lastly, the revealing act
itself, which is the. vital element of ·beauty, as it incorporates the given idea in these various kinds ·of matter freely
and perfectly, imparts a peculiar beauty to discourse.
That discourse, then, meets all _the demands of taste, which
throughout expresses perfect propriety, perfect tone of sentiment, and perfect grace, wherever intelligence, feeling, or
free activity is expressed, which expresses such idea in perfect ideals embodied · in fitting imagery and diction, and
~ally, expresses such idea in such matter-form with a perfect revealing or rendering power - in perfect freedom.
But it will appear on reflect.ion that these elements of beauty
in discourse may all be comprehended under the three enumerated as founded in the idea; for in oratory, as we have
seen, the idea revealed is the speaking mind itself. Proper
oratory is a personal procedure ; it is the revel~tion of the
person, and in its highest, most perfect forms -it is the whole
man in the highest exertion of all his powers ·of t~onght and
feeling and purpose, through all the modes of outward expression. Such is the view given of it by one who among
the best knew a~ possessed himself its power~ a view
caught, it would seem, in a moment of special inspiration.
" The clear conception, out-running the deducu'ons of logic,
the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking 51n the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every
feature, and -urging the whole man onward, right · onward fu
his object - this, this is eloquence." . The : f,erson i·s~ c6nse-

quently, to discourse,. what the theme is to a poem, the character to a portrait or a statue, the suhject or content to any
product of art. The person is revealed as well in the choice
of imagery and of ruction and in tho rendering power as in
the theme or the object of his discourse. . Hence, in the two
la tter sources of beauty named - the matter-form and the
rendering skill - we demand, as the govemi11g characteristics, perfect propriety, pure tone of sentiment, and grace.
These three may be accepted, consequently, as the comprehensive elements of beauty in discourse.

-~ -

:,:. ·.: ...'A.,";:·

:

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_,..•: •~·

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. § 355; The elements of Beauty in style are Propriety, To_ne, and Grace.

I

These properties should characterize the entire production
of discourse - its style in its broader import- the shapi ng
ofl the thought, the expression of feeling, and of aim. They
sl)onlrl mark t.he whole discourse, as the style of the whole
man himself is necessarily given forth more or less in all discourse, and more fully in the higher and more perfect forms
of oratory, in which the discoursing mind impresses itself
more directly and completely on the soul of the hearer
through his passive imagination.

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§ 356. RHETORICAL PROPRIETY is that element of
beauty in discourse which is . founded i11 t.lie harmony
or congruence of its properties and of its r elations.
The term propriety, it will have been observed, is used in
v:irious applications in rhetoric. We have already recognized grammatical propriety, denoting in its n:irrower import,
as etymological propriety, a congruence between the use of
words and their function as parts of speech ; also, another
species of the more generic grammatical propriety, lexical
propriety, a congruence between the use of words ancl their
.established meaning. We have now a proper rhetorical propri ety-· as congruence between the discoursing mind in t.he
movements of thought and feeling, and the use of irui"'gery

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_)

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

- and of diction on the one hand, and the true nature of discourse on the other. As the word itself signifies, rhetorical
propriety is but the giving to discourse what belongs to itwhat is proper to it- that without which it cannot be perfectly apprehended as true discourse. And this is but that·
internal and external harmony or congruence in all properties and relations which is the condition of all intelligent apprehension.
Rhetorical propriety requires an observance of the conditions of internal congruence - of harmony in all the proper-~
ties of discourse. The .theme mµst be in harmony with the
discussion, the discussion with the proposed object of dis- ·
course, the process of discussion with the more specific end
of the . discourse, the subsidiary parts with ~e principal
parts. And in like manner, the style must be congruous
with the theme and the discussion, and with each part and
stage of the discussion, as, also, in its parts, in the imagery,
and the diction in all their modifications.
Rhetorical propriety requires, also, a congruence or conformity in the whole structure of the discourse to all related
objects - to the character, personal and official, of the speaker
and of the hearers, and to the occasion and all the circumstances of speaking.
The gradations of propriety, both in respect to extent and
importance, vary from its highest forms in proper oratory
where it, is both indispensable to success and ranges throughout the .~ole procedure in speaking, ruling thought and passion and purpose, and shaping the whole body of expression
iu imagery aud diction, down to its lowest forms i11 mere representative discourse, in which the proprieties attaching to
the person both of writer aud readers and to the occasion and
circumstances of writing, which are the higher proprieties in
pure oratory, sink relatively and become alm9st obscured in
the lower proprieties that attach to the conduct of the thought _
and use of diction. The orator must be in harmony with

ru-1: ~~ hIB th•m• ·~· .,"~,,~., =tz>~ :th·•.~
• 1

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OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

~bout him ;

337

suiting himself in all to the variou
mg demands of the taste of his hear .
s .and fluctuat. e1~ a~ the time. Cicero
does not hesitate to call ro ri
m this, its full and_ legitimate import, the chief thfnrr ~n
meut of oratoric 1
°
ie art, the one essential ele.
a ·power: "Is erit el
quodcunque decebit, poterit accommo<l . oquen~, qui ad id
ai e orat1onem." To
the sam
.
.
e purpose, Milton speaks of "decorum "
m the same sense, as " the
d
.
' a term used
Ind'
bl . . .
gran masterpiece to observe,,
.
ispensa e as It is, and therefore im
.
.
mg the earnest and ass1'd
• d
perat1vely demand.
uous Soll y of 11 l1
m discourse by the careful
a w 0 would excel
.
, separate study of . h
.
mamfold requirements it .
eac one of its
Is yet t11at one
.
.
,
Cicero says it is impossibl t
.
property wluch
.
e o commumcate . " C
art1s, decere . quod tamen
.
·
aput esse
possit."
'
unum id esse, quod tradi arte non

e:r

I ~· 357.

RHETORICAL TONE is that element of beaut
iscom·so which consists in the .
.
, y
timent of tl1e speak er.
expression of the sen•
in

·Tone in art-literature is the ro
bility- of feelino- in di t' t' pf: per symbol of the sensio•
s inc ion rom propriet
I. J •
proper symbol of intell1'ge
d f
y, w uc 1 is the
nee, an rom g
h. h .
symbol of power or freedom
. race, w ic IS the
.. B:it the lughest form of the
sensibility is the passive i
'
magmat1on _the c
.t f
is th b'1 h
as the judrrment
apac1 y o form,
0
e
g
est
form
of
tl
·
.
RJrntorical tone there" . . h
ie m te 11 1gence.
'
lOle, IS t e express·
, d'
the speaker's mind a 't 1 b
.
· !On m 1scourse of
s I ias een impressed d h
d
whatever source or ca
I 1...
an s ape from
use.
t ecr1t1mately · l d
h
pression of character
th
h<=:
me u es t e exformed by the cons . '. as at w ich has been shaped and
of all the outw d ~ll'ffmg work o~ the individual himself and
ar m uences which hav 1 f h . .
upon him. It w th
e e t t e1r impress
as us on good ground 8 th
h
urged so earnestly th ·
at t e ancients
e importance of ch . t
oratory· for as Q · t'l'
ai ac er to success in
'
'
mn 1 iau reasons "di
~
ter and -di l
h
'
sconrse reveals charac,
sc oses t e secret dispo .t'
d
without. reason did the Greeks s1 ion an temper ; and not
22
teac.h that as a man lived so

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338

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. /

.-

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he would speak." " Profert enim mor'3s ,plerumque orati.:.,
et animi secreta detegit. Nee sine causa Grreci prodiderunt,
ut vivat, quemque etiam dicere;"
Tone, therefore, as the revelation of the soul and character
of the speaker, must characterize discourse everywhere. They
give a peculiar color and hue to it in every element- in the
shaping of the theme and through the discussion, but more
fully and impressively in the more outward embodiment of ::
the . thought in the imagery and diction. The purity and
elevation of soul in the speaker, the habits of t.h ought which
they occasion and determine, the wonted associations with:..
· objects as high or base, the imagery with which the mind
from allowed disposition and habit h as become conversant,
and even the language which has become most familiar
from being the allowed embodiment qf the wonted tenor of
thought and feeling, are distinct elements which impart to its
discourse its proper tone. As purity, nobleness, generosity,
kfudliness, are in their own nature winning and impressive,
the orator who would aim at the highest success will need to
see to it that the feeling, the soul that he necessariiy reveals
in his discourse, be such as the higher and more dominant
nature of man shall approve and love.
·

§ 358. RHETORICAL GRACE is that element of beauty
in discourse which i~ found in the rendei~ng power or
skill of the speaker.
\

..

Grace, as has already been remarked, is the revelation or
symbol of free activity. In style, accordingly, it is the
expression of the activity of the speaker as being free and
untrammeled. It is the highest characteristic of genius in
discourse. It is the predominant characteri~tic ·of Shakes· )
peare, who outranks all writers, not in the extent of his
learning or richness of his intelligence nor in the intensity
of his feeling, but in his wonderful power and freedom in
rendering, in revealing or embodying. Everywhere do -we
stand in admiration of it in his dramas - j.n the rendering of
\...:.../
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OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

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339

historic fact and of h.istoric character through the development of the plot, the selection and grouping of personages
and their utterances. Every word, every sentence, every
image, every . scene is the most perfec t revelation of whatever idea was to be brought forth in it. °\Veil has it been
said: " You cannot change a word but for the worse ;
the embodiment, the rendering, would be marred by the
change."
Grace - freedom in rendering - must characterize discourse everywhere. W e can p~1 t up with almost any thing in
discourse but imbecili ty,- impotence in conceiving and developing the theme, and in the representation in imagery and
language. As the highest charac teristic of oratorical genius
it demands special study and training. It should be remarked
that grace respects continuous and sustained power, rather
than that which is fitful, which is merely impetuous and
1
violent. Abrnptness and sententiousuess in style imply, indeed, power. So far as abrupt and broken, however, discourse
implies a broken or impeded energy. The roar and foam of
a mountain torrent dashing against rocks and trees di splay
force ; it is force, however, checked, impeded, and out-mastered. The easy, gentle flow of the majestic ri ver, that
quietly takes into its current and bears along wi thout a
ripple every obstacle that comes in its way, is a more perfect
emblem of unimpeded power, and in its motion we see grace
exemplified. Mere impulsive, jetting oratory is so far deficient in grace as-it implies impeded and resisted power.

§ 359. .In the acquisition of this general property B eauty in style - three means are essential : First, M ental culture ;
S econdly, Study of art, including both its principles
' and its exemplifications in models; and,
T_birdly, Exercise with judicious criticisms.

§ 360. Mental culture is essential for that intelligence

'.

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340

which is the ground and condition of propriety, for
acquiring those habits and associations which are necessary for the expression of right sentiment, and also
for the attainment of that power and freedom which is
the foundation and source of grace.

§ 361. The study of art is directly beneficial in
cultivating propriety, in forming the sentiments, and
in developing power of expression.

.

Every species of ar~ may be turned to ·useful account in
the formation of oratorical taste. While in no · one are all
the forms of beauty perfectly reveaied, there is noneM>erhaps,
which is not distinguished above every other in its adaptedness to develop some one or another particular element of
I
beauty.
The term art is here employed in its most comprei1ensive
import, and is intended to include every exertion of power
under the control of taste. Nature 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. Manners and morals,
also, lie within the domain of art; and for many reasons
demand the close and constant study of the orator, \not for
the mere information of the understanding only, but ~s fur.
nishing the means of developing and forming the tast
In the study of discourse itself, the best means of cu tivating taste are to be found. The principle to guide in selecting
models is well given by Coleridge : - " Presume those to be
the best, the reputation of which has been matured into
fame by the consent of ages. For wisdom always has · a
final majority, if not by conviction, yet by acquiescence."

§ 362. Exercise in oratory is the chief and indispensable rneafiS'of developing and strengthening power
of execution ; and, combined with judicious fritici~m,
aias in the -~~tivation of all the elem_e~ts ~f-r~tor:cal
taste.

OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES.

.·-~

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In applying criticism to oratorical compositions, the caution
given in § 18 in regard to the time of criticism nccols care.fully to be observed ; as nothi11g more fatally chills and
enerva tes inventive and expressive power than the indulgence of an undue critical spirit at the time of cornposi11g or
speaking.
Hence the indispensable necessity to the best culture in
discourse, of the study of one process of invention, of one
property of style, at a time, till each successively is thoroughly mastered. Skill in one process or in regard to one
property helps to training i11 every other, and moreover
saves from that distraction aud consequent confusion and
conscious weakness which arc so fatal to freedom and so to
all success in constructing discourse.
Ex1mc1sEs ON THE OBJECTIVE PROPEltTrns.

Name

ani correct tlte faults in tlte following extracts : London was inferior in most material respects to Paris
and Lisbon.
The French wits have for the last age been in a manner
wholly turned to the refinement of their language , mid indeed with such success that it can haruly Le excelled, and
runs equally through their verse and prose.
No laws are better than those of this remarkabl e code.
After we had been some time at the house of Gains mine
host and of the whole church.
These two elements are always in a certain inverse propo'rtion to each other.
It is extraordinary that there is not more than one accident a day here.
Every one who puts on the appearance of virtue is not
virtuous .
, This fallacious art debases us from enjoying life instead of
lengthening it.
Hence · is necessitated a radical difference in the kind of
agency which he exerts upon man and upon the material
world.

342

OF BEAUTY IN STYLE.

OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. •

So there is that in the nature of the infinite God which no
copy graven on a finite soul, however noble, can in the very
nature of things fully render.
·
If kept in ignorance of the truth, if error is constantly
inculcated, and all the powers of education be brought to
bear in favor of evil, it is almo.st unavoidable that the judgment will be perverted and the mind corrupted.
I have before not erred in my opinion.
Such were ·very nearly the words and such the manner in
which Miss J. expressed her detern;iination.
"By her own internal schisms, the church war,rehearsing
those vast rents in her foundation which no man ~hould ever
heal." - De Quincey.
· " This reproaoh might justly fall on many of the learned of
that age, as with less excuse it has often done upon their
successors." - Hallam.
That then and still unfortunate country.
The room where this vista Nature· in her genuine English aspect opens, is the same, etc.
We can scarcely doubt that it is idle to deny that this race
has <leeply affecte<l our rle9tiny.
\.Ve think more highly of his sk~tches of ihe social auJ
ecclesi~stical condition of England than of the improvements
in her laws arid constitution. ·
\
"This, though men make a shift with in the ordinary occurrences of life where they find it necessary to
understood, and therefore they .make signs till they are so ; yet
this insignificancy in their words, when they come to reas~n
concerning either their tenets or interest, manifestly fills
their discourse with abundance of empty unintelligibl e
_noise and jargon. Especially in moral matters, where the
words for the most part standing for arbitrary and numerous
collections of ideas, not regularly and permanen tly united
in nature, their bare sounds are often only thought on, or at
least very obscure and uncertain notions annexed· to them." •
Locke
., ·•
· ~ · ·.; 7''-' ~·Jx-:-··~.;:l'S'; .;. ·'

I could draw out a frightful picture of human suffering,
and without going beyond the actual experience of multitudes, against which no sagacity or virtue of man could
guard.
"I was once extremely fond of my pencil, and it was a great
mortification to me when my father turned off my master.
having made a considerable progress for the short time I
learned." - Lady Montagu.
l\1rs. Cibber herself he considered as a pattern of perfection in the tragic art, from her magnetizing power of
harrowing and winning at once every feeling of the mind.

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