This kind of Oratory will likewise be frequently enlivened by those turns of wit and pleasantry, which in Speaking have a much greater effect than is imagined. There are two sorts of them; the one consisting in smart sayings and quick repartees, and the other in what is calledhumour. Our Orator will make use of both;—of the latter in his narratives, to make them lively and entertaining;—and of the other, either in giving or retorting a stroke of ridicule, of which there are several kinds; but at present it is not our business to specify them. It will not be amiss, however, to observe by way of caution, that the powers ofridiculeare not to be employed too often, lest we sink into scurrility;—nor in loose and indecent language, lest we degenerate into wantonness and buffoonery; —nor with the least degree of petulance and abuse, lest we appear audacious and ill-bred;—nor levelled against the unfortunate, lest we incur the censure of inhumanity;—nor against atrocious crimes, lest we raise a laugh where we ought to excite abhorrence;—nor, in the last place, should they be used unseasonably, or when the characters either of the Speaker, or the Hearer, and the circumstances of time and place forbid it;—otherwise we should grossly fail in that decorum of which we have already said so much. We should likewise avoid all affected witticisms, which appear not to be thrown out occasionally, but to be dragged from the closet; for such are generally cold and insipid. It is also improper to jest upon our friends, or upon persons of quality, or to give any strokes of wit which may appear ill-natured, or malicious. We should aim only at our enemies; and even at these, not upon every occasion, or without any distinction of character, or with the same invariable turn of ridicule. Under these restrictions our artless Orator will play off his wit and humour, as I have never seen it done by any of the modern pretenders to Atticism, though they cannot deny that this is entirely in the Attic taste.
Such, then, is the idea which I have formed of asimple and an easy Speaker, who is likewise a very masterly one, and a genuine Athenian; for whatever is smart and pertinent is unquestionablyAttic, though some of the Attic Speakers were not remarkable for their wit.Lysias, indeed, andHyperideswere sufficiently so; andDemades, it is said, was more so than all the others. Demosthenes, however, is thought by many to have but little merit of the kind; but to me nothing can be more genteel than he is; though, perhaps, he was rather smart than humourous. The one requires a quicker genius, but the other more art and address.
But there is a second character, which is more diffusive, and somewhat stronger than the simple and artless, one we have been describing,—though considerably inferior to that copious and all-commanding Eloquence we shall notice in the sequel. In this, though there is but a moderate exertion of the nerves and sinews of Oratory, there is abundance of melody and sweetness. It is much fuller and richer than the close and accurate style above-mentioned; but less elevated than the pompous and diffusive. Inthisall the ornaments of language may be employed without reserve; andherethe flow of our numbers is ever soft and harmonious. Many of the Greeks have pursued it with success: but, in my opinion, they must all yield the palm toDemetrius Phalereus, whose Eloquence is ever mild and placid, and bespangled with a most elegant variety of metaphors and other tropes, like so manystars. Bymetaphors, as I have frequently observed, I mean expressions which, either for the sake of ornament, or through the natural poverty of our language, are removed and as it weretransplantedfrom their proper objects to others, by way of similitude. As totropesin general, they are particular forms of expression, in which the proper name of a thing is supplied by another, which conveys the same meaning, but is borrowed from its adjuncts or effects: for, though, in this case, there is a kind of metaphor, (because the word is shifted from its primary object) yet the remove is performed byEnniusin a different manner, when he says metaphorically,—"You bereave the citadel and the city of their offspring,"—from what it would have been, if he had put the citadel alone for the whole state: and thus again, when he tells us that,—"rugged Africa was shaken by a dreadful tumult,"—he puts Africa for the inhabitants. The Rhetoricians call this anHypallage, because one word is substituted for another: but the Grammarians call it aMetonymy, because the words are shifted and interchanged. Aristotle, however, subjoins it to the metaphor, as he likewise does theAbuseorCatachresis; by which, for instance, we say anarrow, contracted soul, instead of ameanone, and thus steal an expression which has a kindred meaning with the proper one, either for the sake of ornament or decency. When several metaphors are connected together in a regular chain, the form of speaking is varied. The Greeks call this anAllegory, which indeed is proper enough if we only attend to the etymology; but if we mean to refer it to its particulargenusor kind, he has done better who comprehends the whole under the general name of metaphors. These, however, are frequently used byPhalereus, and have a soft and pleasing effect: but though he abounds in the metaphor, he also makes use of the other tropes with as much freedom as any writer whatever.
This species of Eloquence (I mean themiddling, or temperate) is likewise embellished with all the brilliant figures of language, and many of the figures of sentiment. By this, moreover, the most extensive and refined topics of science are handsomely unfolded, and all the weapons of argument are employed without violence. But what need have I to say more? Such Speakers are the common offspring of Philosophy; and were the nervous, and more striking Orator to keep out of sight, these alone would fully answer our wishes. For they are masters of a brilliant, a florid, a picturesque, and a well-wrought Elocution, which is interwoven with all the beautiful embroidery both of language and sentiment. This character first streamed from the limpid fountains of theSophistsinto the Forum; but being afterwards despised by the more simple and refined kind of Speakers, and disdainfully rejected by the nervous and weighty; it was compelled to subside into the peaceful and unaspiring mediocrity we are speaking of.
Thethird characteris the extensive,—the copious,—the nervous,—the majestic Orator, who possesses the powers of Elocution in their full extent.Thisis the man whose enchanting and diffusive language is so much admired by listening nations, that they have tamely suffered Eloquence to rule the world;—but an Eloquence whose course is rapid and sonorous!—an Eloquence which every one gazes at, and admires, and despairs to equal! This is the Eloquence that bends and sways the passions!—thisthe Eloquence that alarms or sooths them at her pleasure! This is the Eloquence that sometimes tears up all before it like a whirlwind; and, at other times, steals imperceptibly upon the senses, and probes to the bottom of the heart!—the Eloquence which ingrafts opinions that are new, and eradicates the old; but yet is widely different from the two characters of Speaking before-mentioned.
He who exerts himself in the simple and accurate character, and speaks neatly and smartly without aiming any higher!—he, by this alone, if carried to perfection, becomes a great, if not the greatest of Orators; nor does he walk upon slippery ground, so that if he has but learned to tread firm, he is in no danger of falling. Also the middle kind of Orator, who is distinguished by his equability, provided he only draws up his forces to advantage, fears not the perilous and doubtful hazards of a public Harangue; and, though sometimes he may not succeed to his wishes, yet he is never exposed to an absolute defeat; for as he never soars, his fall must be inconsiderable. But the Orator, whom we regard as the prince of his profession,—the nervous,—the fierce,—the flaming Orator, if he is born for this alone, and only practices and applies himself to this, without tempering his copiousness with the two inferior characters of Eloquence, is of all others the most contemptible. For the plain and simple Orator, as speaking acutely and expertly, has an appearance of wisdom and good-sense; and the middle kind of Orator is sufficiently recommended by his sweetness:—but the copious and diffusive Speaker, if he has no other qualification, will scarcely appear to be in his senses. For he who can say nothing calmly,—nothing gently—nothing methodically, —nothing clearly, distinctly, or humourously, (though a number of causes should be so managed throughout, and others in one or more of their parts:)—he, moreover, who proceeds to amplify and exaggerate without preparing the attention of his audience, will appear to rave before men of understanding, and to vapour like a person intoxicated before the sober and sedate.
Thus then, my Brutus, we have at last discovered the finished Orator we are seeking for: but we have caught him in imagination only;—for if I could have seized him with my hands, not all his Eloquence should persuade me to release him. We have at length, however, discovered the eloquent Speaker, whom Antonius never saw.—But who, then, is he?—I will comprize his character in a few words, and afterwards unfold it more at large.—He, then, is an Orator indeed! who can speak upon trivial subjects with simplicity and art, upon weighty ones with energy and pathos, and upon those of middling import with calmness and moderation. You will tell me, perhaps, that such a Speaker has never existed. Be it so:—for I am now discoursing not upon what Ihaveseen, but upon what I couldwishto see; and must therefore recur to that primary semblance or ideal form of Plato which I have mentioned before, and which, though it cannot be seen with our bodily eyes, may be comprehended by the powers of imagination. For I am not seeking after a living Orator, or after any thing which is mortal and perishing, but after that which confers a right to the title ofeloquent; in other words, I am seeking after Eloquence herself, who can be discerned only by the eye of the mind.
He then is truly anOrator, (I again repeat it,) who can speak upon trivial subjects with simplicity, upon indifferent ones with moderation, and upon weighty subjects with energy and pathos. [Footnote: Our Author is now going to indulge himself in theEgotism,—a figure, which, upon many occasions, he uses as freely as any of the figures of Rhetoric. How the Reader will relish it, I know not; but it is evident from what follows, and from another passage of the same kind further on, that Cicero had as great a veneration for his own talents as any man living. His merit, however, was so uncommon both as a Statesman, a Philosopher, and an Orator, and he has obliged posterity with so many useful and amazing productions of genius, that we ought in gratitude to forgive the vanity of theman. Although he has ornamented the socket in which he hassethis character, with an extravagant (and I had almost said ridiculous) profusion of self-applause, it must be remembered that the diamond it contains is a gem of inestimable value.] The cause I pleaded for Caecina related entirely to the bare letter of the Interdict: here, therefore, I explained what was intricate by a definition,—spoke in praise of the Civil Law,—and dissolved the ambiguities which embarrassed the meaning of the Statute.—In recommending the Manilian Law, I was to blazon the character ofPompey, and therefore indulged myself in all that variety of ornament which is peculiar to the second species of Eloquence. In the cause of Rabirius, as the honour of the Republic was at stake, I blazed forth in every species of amplification. But these characters are sometimes to be intermingled and diversified. Which of them, therefore, is not to be met with in my seven Invectives againstVerres? or in the cause ofHabitus? or in that ofCornelius? or indeed in most of my Defences? I would have specified the particular examples, did I not believe them to be sufficiently known; or, at least, very easy to be discovered by those who will take the trouble to seek for them. For there is nothing which can recommend an Orator in the different characters of speaking, but what has been exemplified in my Orations,—if not to perfection, yet at least it has been attempted, and faintly delineated. I have not, indeed, the vanity to think I have arrived at the summit; but I can easily discern what Eloquence ought to be. For I am not to speak of myself, but to attend to my subject; and so far am I from admiring my own productions, that, on the contrary, I am so nice and difficult, as not to be entirely satisfied with Demosthenes himself, who, though he rises with superior eminence in every species of Eloquence, does not always fill my ear;—so eager is it, and so insatiable, as to be ever coveting what is boundless and immense. But as, by the assistance ofPammenes, who is very fond of that Orator, you made yourself thoroughly acquainted with him when you was atAthens, and to this day scarcely ever part with him from your hands, and yet frequently condescend to peruse what has been written byme; you must certainly have taken notice that he hathdonemuch, and that I haveattemptedmuch,—that he has beenhappyenough, and Iwillingenough to speak, upon every occasion, as the nature of the subject required. But he, beyond dispute, was a consummate Orator; for he not only succeeded several eminent Speakers, but had many such for his cotemporaries:—and I also, if I could have reached the perfection I aimed at, should have made no despicable figure in a city, where (according to Antonius) the voice of genuine Eloquence was never heard.
But if to Antonius neither Crassus, nor even himself, appeared to beeloquent, we may presume that neither Cotta, Sulpicius, nor Hortensius would have succeeded any better. ForCottahad no expansion,Sulpiciusno temper, andHortensiustoo little dignity. But the two former (I mean Crassus and Antonius) had a capacity which was better adapted to every species of Oratory. I had, therefore, to address myself to the ears of a city which had never been filled by that multifarious and extensive Eloquence we are discoursing of; and I first allured them (let me have been what you please, or what ever were my talents) to an incredible desire of hearing the finished Speaker who is the subject of the present Essay. For with what acclamations did I deliver that passage in my youth concerning the punishment of parricides [Footnote: Those unnatural and infamous wretches, among the Romans, were sown into a leathern sack, and thus thrown into the sea; to intimate that they were unworthy of having the lead communication with the common elements of water, earth, and air.], though I was afterwards sensible it was too warm and extravagant? —"What is so common, said I, as air to the living, earth to the dead, the sea to floating corpses, and the shore to those who are caft upon it by the waves! But these wretches, as long as life remains, so live as not to breathe the air of heaven;—they so perish, that their limbs are not suffered to touch the earth;—they are so tossed to and fro' by the waves, as never to be warned by them;—and when they are cast on the shore, their dead, carcases cannot rest upon the surface of the rocks!" All this, as coming from a youth, was much applauded, not for it's ripeness and solidity, but for the hopes it gave the Public of my future improvement. From the same capacity came those riper expressions,—"She was the spouse of her son-in-law, the step-mother of her own offspring? and the mistress of her daughter's husband [Footnote: This passage occurs in the peroration of his Defence of Cluentius]."
But I did not always indulge myself in this excessive ardour of expression, or speak every thing in the same manner: for even that youthful redundance which was so visible in the defence ofRoscius, had many passages which were plain and simple, and some which were, tolerably humourous. But the Orations in defence ofHabitus, andCornelius, and indeed many others; (for no single Orator, even among the peaceful and speculative Athenians, has composed such a number as I have;)—these, I say, have all that variety which I so much approve. For haveHomerandEnnius, and the rest of the Poets, but especially the tragic writers, not expressed themselves at all times with the same elevation, but frequently varied their manner, and sometimes lowered it to the style of conversation; and shall I oblige myself never to descend from that highest energy of language? Bit why do I mention the Poets whose talents are divine! The very actors on the stage, who have most excelled in their profession, have not only succeeded in very different characters, though still in the same province; but a comedian has often acted tragedies, and a tragedian comedies so as to give us universal satisfaction. Wherefore, then, should notIalso exert my efforts? But when I saymyself, my worthy Brutus I meanyou: for as tome, I have already done all, I was capable of doing. Wouldyou, then, plead every cause in the same manner? Or is there any sort of causes which your genius would decline? Or even in the same cause, would you always express yourself in the same strain, and without any variety? Your favouriteDemosthenes, whose brazen statue I lately beheld among your own, and your family images, when I had the pleasure to visit you at Tusculanum,—Demosthenes, I say, was nothing inferior toLysiasin simplicity; toHyperidesin smartness and poignancy, or toAeschinesin the smoothness and splendor of his language. There are many of his Orations which are entirely of the close and simple character, as that againstLepsines; many which are all nervous, and striking, as those againstPhilip; and many which are of a mixed character, as that againstAeschines, concerning the false embassy, and another against the same person in defence ofCtesiphon. At other times he strikes into themeanat his pleasure, and quitting the nervous character, descends to this with all the ease imaginable. But he raises the acclamations of his audience, and his Oratory is then most weighty and powerful, when he applies himself to thenervous.
But as our enquiries relate to the art, and not to the artist, let us leavehimfor the present, and consider the nature and the properties of the object before us,—that is, ofEloquence. We must keep in mind, however, what I have already hinted,—that we are not required to deliver a system of precepts, but to write as judges and critics, rather than teachers. But I have expatiated so largely upon the subject, because I foresee that you (who are, indeed, much better versed in it, than I who pretend to inform you) will not be my only reader; but that my little essay, though not much perhaps to my credit, will be made public, and with your name prefixed to it.
I am of opinion, therefore, that a finished Orator should not only possess the talent (which, indeed, is peculiar, to himself) of speaking copiously and diffusively: but that he should also borrow the assistance of it's nearest neighbour, the art of Logic. For though public speaking is one thing, and disputing another; and though there is a visible difference between a private controversy, and a public Harangue; yet both the one and the other come under the notion of reasoning. But mere discourse and argument belongs to the Logician, and the art of Speaking gracefully and ornamentally is the prerogative of the Orator.Zeno, the father of theStoics, used to illustrate the difference between the two by holding up his hand;—for when he clenched his fingers, and presented a close fist,— "that," he said, "was an emblem of Logic:"—but when he spread them out again, and displayed his open hand,—"this," said he, "resembles Eloquence." But Aristotle observed before him, in the introduction to his Rhetoric, that it is an art which has a near resemblance to that of Logic;—and that the only difference between them is, that the method of reasoning in the former is more diffusive, and in the latter more close and contracted.
I, therefore, advise that our finished Orator make himself master of every thing in the art of Logic, which is applicable to his profession:—an art (as your thorough knowledge of it has already informed you) which is taught after two methods. For Aristotle himself has delivered a variety of precepts concerning the art of Reasoning:—and besides these, theDialecticians(as they are called) have produced many intricate and thorny speculations of their own. I am, therefore, of opinion, that he who is ambitious to be applauded for his Eloquence, should not be wholly unacquainted with this branch of Erudition; but that he ought (at least) to be properly instructed either in the old method, or in that ofChrysippus. In the first place, he should understand the force, the extension, and the different species of words as they stand singly, or connected into sentences. He should likewise be acquainted with the various modes and forms in which any conception of the mind may be expressed—the methods of distinguishing a true proposition from a false one;—the different conclusions which result from different premises;—the true consequences and opposites to any given proposition;—and, if an argument is embarrassed by ambiguities, how to unravel each of them by an accurate distinction. These particulars, I say, should be well understood by an Orator, because they are such as frequently occur: but as they are naturally rugged and unpleasing, they should be relieved in practice by an easy brilliance of expression.
But as in every topic which is discussed by reason and method, we should first settle what it is we are to discourse upon,—(for unless the parties in a dispute are agreed about the subject of it, they can neither reason with propriety, nor bring the argument to an issue;)—it will frequently be necessary to explain our notions of it, and, when the matter is intricate, to lay it open by adefinition;—for adefinitionis only a sentence, or explanation, which specifies, in as few words as possible, the nature of the object we propose to consider. After thegenus, or kind, has been sufficiently determined, we must then proceed (you know) to examine into it's different species, or subordinate parts, that our whole discourse may be properly distributed among them. Our Orator, then, should be qualified to make a just definition;—though not in such a close and contracted form, as in the critical debates of the Academy, but more explicitly and copiously, and as will be best adapted to the common way of thinking, and the capacity of the vulgar. He is likewise, as often as occasion requires, to divide the genus into it's proper species, so as to be neither defective, nor redundant. Buthowandwhenthis should be done, is not our present business to consider: because, as I observed before, I am not to assume the part of a teacher, but only of a critic and a judge.
But he ought to acquaint himself not only with the art of Logic, but with all the common and most useful branches of Morality. For without a competent knowledge of these, nothing can be advanced and unfolded with any spirit and energy, or with becoming dignity and freedom, either concerning religion,—death,—filial piety,—the love of our country,— things good or evil,—the several virtues and vices,—the nature of moral obligation,—grief or pleasure, and the other emotions of the mind,—or the various errors and frailties of humanity,—and a variety of important topics which are often closely connected with forensic causes; thoughhere(it is true) they must be touched upon more slightly and superficially. I am now speaking of thematerialsof Eloquence, and not of theartitself:—for an Orator should always be furnished with a plentiful stock of sentiments,—(I mean such as may claim the attention of the learned, as well as of the vulgar)—before he concerns himself about the language and the manner in which he ought to express himself.
That he may make a still more respectable and elevated figure (as we have already observed ofPericles) he should not be unacquainted with the principles of Natural Philosophy. For when he descends, as it were, from the starry heavens, to the little concerns of humanity, he will both think and speak with greater dignity and splendor. But after acquainting himself with those divine and nobler objects of contemplation, I would have him attend to human concerns. In particular, let him make himself master of theCivil Law, which is of daily, and indeed necessary use in every kind of causes. For what can be more scandalous, than to undertake the management of judicial suits and controversies, without a proper knowledge of the laws, and of the principles of Equity and Jurisprudence? He should also be well versed in History and the venerable records of Antiquity, but particularly those of his own country: not neglecting, however, to peruse the annals of other powerful nations, and illustrious monarchs;—a toil which has been considerably shortened by our friendAtticus, who (though he has carefully specified the time of every event, and omitted no transaction of consequence) has comprized the history of seven hundred years in a single volume. To be unacquainted with what has passed in the world, before we came into it ourselves, is to be always children. For what is the age of a single mortal, unless it is connected, by the aid of History, with the times of our ancestors? Besides, the relation of past occurrences, and the producing pertinent and striking examples, is not only very entertaining, but adds a great deal of dignity and weight to what we say.
Thus furnished and equipped our Orator may undertake the management of causes. But, in the first place, he should be well acquainted with their different kinds. He should know, for instance, that every judicial controversy must turn either upon a matter offact, or upon the meaning of some particular expression. As to the former, this must always relate either to therealityof a fast, theequityof it, or thenameit bears in law. As to forms of expression, these may become the subject of controversy, when they are eitherambiguous, orcontradictory. For when thespiritof a law appears to be at variance with theletterof it, this must cause an ambiguity which commonly arises from some of the preceding terms; so that in this case (for such is the nature of an ambiguity) the law will appear to have a double meaning.
As the kinds of causes are so few, the rules for the invention of arguments must be few also. The topics, or common places from which those arguments are derived, are twofold,—the oneinherentin the subject, and the otherassumptive. A skilful management of the former contributes most to, give weight to a discourse, and strike the attention of the hearer: because they are easy, and familiar to the understanding.
What farther remains (within the province of the Art) but that we should begin our discourses so as to conciliate the hearer's good-will, or raise his expectation, or prepare him to receive what follows?—to state the case before us so concisely, and yet so plausibly and clearly, as that the substance of it may be easily comprehended?—to support our own proofs, and refute those of our antagonist, not in a confused and disorderly manner, but so that every inference may be fairly deducible from the premises?—and, in the last place, to conclude the whole with a peroration either to inflame or allay the passions of the audience? How each of these parts should be conducted is a subject too intricate and extensive for our present consideration: for they are not always to be managed in the same manner.
But as I am not seeking a pupil to instruct, but an Orator who is to be the model of his profession,hemust have the preference who can always discern what is proper and becoming. For Eloquence should, above all, things, have that kind of discretion which makes her aperfect mistress of time and character: because we are not to speak upon every occasion, or before every audience, or against every opponent, or in defence of every client, and to every Judge, in the same invariable manner. He, therefore, is the man of genuine Eloquence, who can adapt his language to what is most suitable to each. By doing this, he will be sure to say every thing as it ought to be said. He will neither speak drily upon copious subjects, nor without dignity and spirit upon things of importance; but his language will always be proportioned, and equal to his subject. His introduction will be modest,—not flaming with all the glare of expression, but composed of quick and lively turns of sentiment, either to wound the cause of his antagonist, or recommend his own. His narratives will be clear and plausible,—not delivered with the grave formality of an Historian, but in the style of polite conversation. If his cause be slight, the thread of his argument, both in proving and refuting, will be so likewise, and he will so conduct it in every part, that his language may rise and expand itself, as the dignity of his subject encreases. But when his cause will admit a full exertion of the powers of Eloquence, he will then display himself more openly;—he will then rule, and bend the passions, and direct them, at his pleasure,—that is, as the nature of his cause and the circumstances of the time shall require.
But his powers of ornament will be chiefly exerted upon two occasions; I mean that striking kind of ornament, from which Eloquence derives her greatest glory. For though every part of an Oration should have so much merit, as not to contain a single word but what is either weighty or elegant; there are two very interesting parts which are susceptible of the greatest variety of ornament. The one is the discussion of an indefinite question, or general truth, which by the Greeks (as I have before observed) is called athesis: and the other is employed in amplifying and exaggerating, which they call anauxesis. Though the latter, indeed, should diffuse itself more or less through the whole body of a discourse, it's powers will be more conspicuous in the use and improvement of thecommon places:—which are so called, as being alikecommonto a number of causes, though (in the application of them) they are constantly appropriated to a single one. But as to the other part, which regards universal truths, or indefinite questions, this frequently extends through a whole cause:—for the leading point in debate, or that which the controversy hinges upon, is always most conveniently discussed when it can be reduced to a general question, and considered as an universal proposition:—unless, indeed, when the mere truth of a matter of fact: is the object: of disquisition: for then the case must be wholly conjectural. We are not, however, to argue like thePeripatetics(who have a neat method of controversy which they derive fromAristotle) but more nervously and pressingly; and general sentiments must be so applied to particular cases, as to leave us room to say many extenuating things in behalf of the Defendant, and many severe ones against the Plaintiff. But in heightening or softening a circumstance, the powers of language are unlimited, and may be properly exerted, even in the middle of an argument, as often as any thing presents itself which may be either exaggerated, or extenuated; but, in, controul.
There are two parts, however, which must not be omitted;—for when these are judiciously conducted, the sorce of Eloquence will be amazing. The one is a certainpropriety of manner(called theethicby the Greeks) which readily adapts itself to different dispositions and humours, and to every station of life:—and the other is the pathetic, which rouses and alarms the passions, and may be considered as thescepterof Eloquence. The former is mild and insinuating, and entirely calculated to conciliate the good-will of the hearer: but the latter is all energy and fire, and snatches a cause by open violence;—and when it's course is rapid and unrestrained, the shock is irresistible. I [footnote: Here follows the second passage above-referred to, in which there is a long string ofEgotisms. But as they furnish some very instructive hints, the Reader will peruse them with more pleasure than pain] myself have possessed a tolerable share of this, or, it may be, a trifling one:—but as I always spoke with uncommon warmth and impetuosity, I have frequently forced my antagonist to relinquish the field.Hortensius, an eminent Speaker, once declined to answer me, though in defence of an intimate friend.Cataline, a most audacious traitor, being publicly accused by me in the Senate-house, was struck dumb with shame: andCurio, the father, when he attempted to reply to me in a weighty and important cause which concerned the honour of his family, sat suddenly down, and complained that I hadbewitchedhim out of his memory. As to moving the pity of my audience, it will be unnecessary to mention this. I have frequently attempted it with good success, and when several of us have pleaded on the same side, this part of the defence was always resigned to me; in which my supposed excellence was not owing to the superiority of my genius, but to the real concern I felt for the distresses of my client. But what in this respect have been my talents (for I have had no reason to complain of them) may be easily discovered in my Orations:—though a book, indeed, must lose much of the spirit which makes a speech delivered in public appear to greater advantage than when it is perused in the closet.
But we are to raise not only the pity of our judges, (which I have endeavoured so passionately, that I once took up an infant in my arms while I was speaking;—and, at another time, calling up the nobleman in whose defence I spoke, and holding up a little child of his before the whole assembly, I filled the Forum with my cries and lamentations:)—but it is also necessary to rouse the judge's indignation, to appease it, to excite his jealousy, his benevolence, his contempt, his wonder, his abhorrence, his love, his desire, his aversion, his hope, his fear, his joy, and his grief:—in all which variety, you may find examples, in many accusatory speeches, of rousing the harsher passions; and my Defences will furnish instances enough of the methods of working upon the gentler. For there is no method either of alarming or soothing the passions, but what has been attempted byme. I would say I have carried it to perfection, if I either thought so, or was not afraid that (in this case) even truth itself might incur the charge of arrogance. But (as I have before observed) I have been so much transported, not by the force of my genius, but by the real fervor of my heart, that I was unable to restrain myself: —and, indeed, no language will inflame the mind of the hearer, unless the Speaker himself first catches the ardor, and glows with the importance of his subject. I would refer to examples of my own, unless you had seen them already; and to those of other Speakers among the Romans, if I could produce any, or among the Greeks, if I judged it proper. ButCrassuswill only furnish us with a few, and those not of the forensic kind:—Antonius, Cotta, andSulpiciuswith none:—and as toHortensius, he spoke much better than he wrote. We may, therefore, easily judge how amazing must be the force of a talent, of which we have so few examples:— but if we are resolved to seek for them, we must have recourse toDemosthenes, in whom we find almost a continued succession of them, in that part of his Oration forCtesiphon, where he enlarges on his own actions, his measures, and his good services to the State, For that Oration, I must own, approaches so near to the primary form or semblance of Eloquence which exists in my mind, that a more complete and exalted pattern is scarcely desirable. But still, there will remain a general model or character, the true nature and excellence of which may be easily collected from the hints I have already offered.
We have slightly touched upon the ornaments of language, both in single words, and in words as they stand connected with each other;—in which our Orator will so indulge himself, that not a single expression may escape him, but what is either elegant or weighty. But he will most abound in themetaphor; which, by an aptness of similitude, conveys and transports the mind from object to object, and hurries it backwards and forwards through a pleasing variety of images;—a motion which, in its own nature, (as being full of life and action) can never fail to be highly delightful. As to the other ornaments of language which regard words as they are connected with each other, an Oration will derive much of its lustre from these. They are like the decorations in the Theatre, or the Forum, which not only embellish, but surprize. [Footnote: In the following Abstract of the Figures ofLanguageandSentiment, I have often paraphrased upon my author, to make him intelligible to the English reader;—a liberty which I have likewise taken in several other places, where I judged it necessary.] For such also is the effect of the variousfiguresor decorations of language;—such as the doubling or repetition of the same word;—the repeating it with a slight variation; —the beginning or concluding several sentences in the same manner, or both at once;—the making a word, which concludes a preceding sentence, to begin the following;—the concluding a sentence with the same expression which began it;—the repeating the same word with a different meaning; —the using several corresponding words in the same case, or with the same termination;—the contrasting opposite expressions;—the using words whose meaning rises in gradation;—the leaving out the conjunctive particles to shew our earnestness;—the passing by, or suddenly dropping a circumstance we were going to mention, and assigning a reason for so doing; —[Footnote: We have an instance of this, considered as a figure of language, in the following line of Virgil; Quos ego—, sed praestat motos componere fluctus. Aeneid. I. Whom I—, but let me still the raging waves. This may likewise serve as an example of the figure which is next mentioned.] the pretending to correct or reprove ourselves, that we may seem to speak without artifice or partiality;—the breaking out into a sudden exclamation, to express our wonder, our abhorrence, or our grief;— and the using the same noun in different cases.
But the figures ofsentimentare more weighty and powerful; and there are some who place the highest merit ofDemosthenesin the frequent use he makes of them. For be his subject what it will, almost all his sentences have a figurative air: and, indeed, a plentiful intermixture of this sort of figures is the very life and soul of a popular Eloquence. But as you are thoroughly acquainted with these, my Brutus, what occasion is there to explain and exemplify them? The bare mention of them will be sufficient.—Our Orator, then, will sometimes exhibit an idea in different points of view, and when he has started a good argument, he will dwell upon it with an honest exultation;—he will extenuate what is unfavourable, and have frequent recourse to raillery;—he will sometimes deviate from his plan, and seem to alter his first purpose:—he will inform his audience beforehand, what are the principal points upon which he intends to rest his cause;—he will collect and point out the force of the arguments he has already discussed; he will check an ardent expression, or boldly reiterate what he has said;—he will close a lively paragraph with some weighty and convincing sentiment;—he will press upon his adversary by repeated interrogations;—he will reason with himself, and answer questions of his own proposing;—he will throw out expressions which he designs to be otherwise understood than they seem to mean;—he will pretend to doubt what is most proper to be said, and in what order;— he will divide an action, &c. into its several parts and circumstances, to render it more striking;—he will pretend to pass over and relinquish a circumstance which might have been urged to advantage;—he will secure himself against the known prejudices of his audience;—he will turn the very circumstance which is alledged against him to the prejudice of his antagonist;—he will frequently appeal to his hearers, and sometimes to his opponent;—he will represent the very language and manners of the persons he is speaking of;—he will introduce irrational and even inanimate beings, as addressing themselves to his audience;—he will (to serve some necessary purpose) steal off their attention from the point in debate;—he will frequently move them to mirth and laughter;—he will answer every thing which he foresees will be objected;—he will compare similar incidents,—refer to past examples,—and by way of amplification assign their distinguishing qualities to opposite characters and circumstances;—he will check an impertinent plea which may interrupt his argument;—he will pretend not to mention what he might have urged to good purpose;—he will caution his hearers against the various artifices and subterfuges which may be employed to deceive them;—he will sometimes appear to speak with an honest, but unguarded freedom;—he will avow his resentment;—he will entreat;—he will earnestly supplicate;—he will apologize;—he will seem for a moment to forget himself;—he will express his hearty good wishes for the deserving, and vent his execrations against notorious villainy;—and now and then he will descend imperceptibly to the most tender and insinuating familiarities. There are likewise Other beauties of composition which he will not fail to pursue;—such as brevity where the subject requires it;—a lively and pathetic description of important occurrences;—a passionate exaggeration of remarkable circumstances;—an earnestness of expression which implies more than is said;—a well-timed variety of humour;—and a happy imitation of different characters and dispositions. Assisted and adorned by such figures as these, which are very numerous, the force of Eloquence will appear in its brightest lustre. But even these, unless they are properly formed and regulated, by a skilful disposition of their constituent words, will never attain the merit we require;—a subject which I shall be obliged to treat of in the sequel, though I am restrained partly by the circumstances already mentioned, but much more so by the following. For I am sensible not only that there are some invidious people, to whom every improvement appears vain and superfluous; but that even those, who are well-wishers to my reputation, may think it beneath the dignity of a man whose public services have been so honourably distinguished by the Senate, and the whole body of the Roman people, to employ my pen so largely upon the art of Speaking. [Footnote: The long apology which our author is now going to make for bestowing his time in composing a treatise of Oratory, is in fact a very artful as well as an elegant digression; to relieve the dryness and intricacy of the abstract he has just given us of the figures of rhetoric, and of the subsequent account of the rules of prosaic harmony. He has also enlivened that account (which is a very long one) in the same manner, by interspersing it, at convenient distances, with fine examples, agreeable companions, and short historical digressions to elucidate the subject.]
If, however, I was to return no other answer to the latter, but that I was unwilling to deny any thing to the request of Brutus, the apology must be unexceptionable; because I am only aiming at the satisfaction of an intimate friend, and a worthy man, who desires nothing of me but what is just and honourable.
But was I even to profess (what I wish I was capable of) that I mean to give the necessary precepts, and point out the road to Eloquence to those who are desirous to qualify themselves for the Forum, what man of sense could blame me for it? For who ever doubted that in the decision of political matters, and in time of peace, Eloquence has always borne the sway in the Roman state, while Jurisprudence has possessed only the second post of honour? For whereas the former is a constant source of authority and reputation, and enables us to defend ourselves and our friends in the most effectual manner;—the other only furnishes us with formal rules for indictments, pleas, protests, &c. in conducting which she is frequently obliged to sue for the assistance of Eloquence;—but if the latter condescends to oppose her, she is scarcely able to maintain her ground, and defend her own territories. If therefore to teach the Civil Law has always been reckoned a very honourable employment, and the houses of the most eminent men of that profession, have been crowded with disciples; who can be reasonably censured for exciting our youth to the study of Eloquence, and furnishing them with all the assistance in his power? If it is a fault to speak gracefully, let Eloquence be for ever banished from the state. But if, on the contrary, it reflects an honour, not only upon the man who possesses it, but upon the country which gave him birth, how can it be a disgrace tolearn, what it is so glorious toknow? Or why should it not be a credit toteachwhat it is the highest honour to havelearned?
But, in one case, they will tell me, the practice has been sanctified by custom, and in the other it has not. This I grant: but We may easily account for both. As to the gentlemen of the law, it was sufficient to hear them, when they decided upon such cases as were laid before them in the course of business;—so that when they taught, they did not set apart any particular time for that purpose, but the same answers satisfied their clients and their pupils. On the other hand, as our Speakers of eminence spent their time, while at home, in examining and digesting their causes, and while in the Forum in pleading them, and the remainder of it in a seasonable relaxation, what opportunity had they for teaching and instructing others? I might venture to add that most of our Orators have been more distinguishied by theirgenius, than by theirlearning; and for that reason were much better qualified to beSpeakersthanTeachers; which it is possible may be the reverse of my case.—"True," say they; "but teaching is an employment which is far from being recommended by its dignity." And so indeed it is, if we teach like mere pedagogues. But if we only direct, encourage, examine, and inform our pupils; and sometimes accompany them in reading or hearing the performances of the most eminent Speakers;—if by these means we are able to contribute to their improvement, what should hinder us from communicating a few instructions, as opportunity offers? Shall we deem it an honourable employment, as indeed with us it is, to teach the form of a legal process, or an excommunication from the rites and privileges of our religion; and shall it not be equally honourable to teach the methods by which those privileges may be defended and secured?—"Perhaps it may," they will reply; "but even those who know scarcely any thing of the law are ambitious to be thought masters of it; whereas those who are well furnished with the powers of Eloquence pretend to be wholly unacquainted with them; because they are sensible that useful knowledge is a valuable recommendation, whereas an artful tongue is suspected by every one." But is it possible, then, to exert the powers of Eloquence without discovering them? Or is an Orator really thought to be no Orator, because he disclaims the title? Or is it likely that, in a great and noble art, the world will judge it a scandal toteachwhat it is the greatest honour tolearn? Others, indeed, may have been more reserved; but, for my part, I have always owned my profession. For how could I do otherwise, when, in my youth, I left my native land, and crossed the sea, with no other view but to improve myself in this kind of knowledge; and, when afterwards my house was crowded with the ablest professors, and my very style betrayed some traces of a liberal education? Nay, when my own writings were in every body's hands, with what face could I pretend that I had not studied? Or what excuse could I have for submitting my abilities to the judgment of the public, if I had been apprehensive that they would think I had studied to no purpose? [Footnote: This sentence in the original runs thus;—Quid erat cur probarem(i.e. scripta nostra),nisi quod parum fortasse profeceram?—"Wherefore did I approve of them," (that is, of my writings, so far as to make them public) "but because I had," (in my own opinion) "made a progress, though perhaps a small one, in useful literature?" This, at least, is the only meaning I am able to affix to it; and I flatter myself, that the translation I have given of it, will be found to correspond with the general sense of my author.] But the points we have already discussed are susceptible of greater dignity and elevation, than those which remain to be considered. For we are next to treat of the arrangement of our words; and, indeed, I might have said, of the art of numbering and measuring our very syllables; which, though it may, in reality, be a matter of as much consequence as I judge it to be, cannot however be supposed to have such a striking appearance in precept as in practice. This, indeed, might be said of every other branch of useful knowledge; but it is more remarkably true with respect to this. For the actual growth and improving height of all the sublimer arts, like that of trees, affords a pleasing prospect; whereas the roots and stems are scarcely beheld with indifference: and yet the former cannot subsist without the latter. But whether I am restrained from dissembling the pleasure I take in the subject, by the honest advice of the Poet, who says,
"Blush not to own the art you love to practise."
or whether this treatise has been extorted from me by the importunity of my friend, it was proper to obviate the censures to which it will probably expose me. And yet, even supposing that I am mistaken in my sentiments, who would shew himself so much of a savage, as to refuse me his indulgence (now all my forensic employments and public business are at an end) for not resigning myself to that stupid inactivity which is contrary to my nature, or to that unavailing sorrow which I do my best to overcome, rather than devote myself to my favourite studies? These first conducted me into the Forum and the Senate-House, and they are now the chief comforts of my retirement. I have, however, applied myself not only to such speculations as form the subject of the present Essay, but to others more sublime and interesting; and if I am able to discuss them in a proper manner, my private studies will be no disparagement to my forensic employments.
But it is time to return to our subject.—Our words, then, should be so disposed that every following one may be aptly connected with the preceding, so as to make an agreeable sound;—or that the mere form andconcinnityof our language may give our sentences their proper measure and dimensions;—or, lastly, that our periods may have a numerous and measured cadence.
The first thing, then, to be attended to, is thestructureof our language, or the agreeable connection of one word with another; which, though it certainly requires care, ought not to be practised with a laborious nicety. For this would be an endless and puerile attempt, and is justly ridiculed byLucilius, when he introducesScaevolathus reflecting uponAlbucius:
"As in the checquer'd pavement ev'ry squareIs nicely fitted by the mason's care:So all thy words are plac'd with curious art,And ev'ry syllable performs its part."
But though we are not to be minutely exact in thestructureof our language, a moderate share of practice will habituate us to every thing of this nature which is necessary. For as the eye inreading, so the mind inspeaking, will readily discern what ought to follow,—that, in connecting our words, there may neither be a chasm, nor a disagreeable harshness. The most lively and interesting sentiments, if they are harshly expressed, will offend the ear, that delicate and fastidious judge of rhetorical harmony. This circumstance, therefore, is so carefully attended to in the Roman language, that there is scarcely a rustic among us who is not averse to a collision of vowels,—a defect which, in the opinion of some, was too scrupulously avoided byTheopompus, though his masterIsocrateswas equally cautious. ButThucydideswas not so exact; nor was Plato, (though a much better writer)—not only in hisDialogues, in which it was necessary to maintain an easy negligence, to resemble the style of conversation, but in the famousPanegyric, in which (according to the custom of the Athenians) he celebrated the praises of those who fell in battle, and which was so greatly esteemed, that it is publicly repeated every year. In that Oration a collision of vowels occurs very frequently; thoughDemosthenesgenerally avoids it as a fault.
But let the Greeks determine for themselves: we Romans are not allowed to interrupt the connection of our words. Even the rude and unpolished Orations ofCatoare a proof of this; as are likewise all our poets, except in particular instances, in which they were obliged to admit a few breaks, to preserve their metre. Thus we find inNaevius,
"VosQUI ACCOLITIShistrumFLUVIUM ATQUE ALGIDUM."
And in another place,
"Quam nunquam vobisGRAII ATQUEBarbari."
ButEnniusadmits it only once, when he says,
"Scipio invicte;"
and likewise I myself in
"Hoc motu radiantisETESIAE INVada Ponti."
This, however, would seldom be suffered among us, though the Greeks often commend it as a beauty.
But why do I speak of a collision of vowels? for, omitting this, we have frequentlycontractedour words for the sake of brevity; as inmulti' modis, vas' argenteis, palm' et crinibus, tecti' fractis, &c. We have sometimes also contracted our propernames, to give them a smoother sound: for as we have changedDuellumintoBellum, andduisintobis, soDuellius, who defeated the Carthagenians at sea, was calledBellius, though all his ancestors were namedDuellii. We likewise abbreviate our words, not only for convenience, but to please and gratify the ear. For how otherwise cameaxillato be changed intoala, but by the omission of an unweildy consonant, which the elegant pronunciation of our language has likewise banished from the wordsmaxillae, taxillae, vexillum, andpaxillum?
Upon the same principle, two or more words have been contracted into one, assodesforsi audes,sisforsi vis,capsisforcape si vis,ain'foraisne,nequirefornon quire,malleformagis velle, andnollefornon velle; and we often saydein'andexin'fordeindeandexinde. It is equally evident why we never saycum nobis, butnobiscum; though we do not scruple to saycum illis;—viz.because, in the former case, the union of the consonantsmandnwould produce a jarring sound: and we also saymecumandtecum, and notcum meandcum te, to correspond withnobiscumandvobiscum. But some, who would correct antiquity rather too late, object to these contractions: for, instead ofprobDEÛMatque hominum fidem, they sayDeorum. They are not aware, I suppose, that custom has sanctified the licence. The same Poet, therefore, who, almost without a precedent, has saidpatris mei MEÛM FACTÛM pudet, instead ofmeorum factorum,—andtextitur exitiûm examen rapitforexitiorum, does not choose to sayliberum, as we generally do in the expressionscupidos liberûm, andin liberûm loco, but, as the literary virtuosos above-mentioned would have it,
neque tuum unquam in gremium extollasLIBERORUMex te genus,
and,
namque AesculapîLIBERORUM.
But the author before quoted says in his Chryses, not only
Cives, antiqui amici majorumMEÛM,
which was common enough—, but more harshly still,
CONSILIÛM, AUGURIÛM,atqueEXTÛMinterpretes;
and in another place,
PostquamPRODIGIÛM HORRIFERÛM PORTENTÛMpavos.
a licence which is not customary in all neuters indifferently: for I should not be so willing to say armûmjudicium, asarmorum; though in the same writer we meet withnihilne ad te de judicioarmûmaccidit? And yet (as we find it in the public registers) I would venture to sayfabrûm, andprocûm, and notfabrorumandprocorum. But I would never say duorum virorumjudicium, ortriumvirorumcapitalium, ordecemvirorumlitibus judicandis. In Accius, however, we meet with
Video sepulchra duoduorumcorporum;
though in another place he says,
Mulier unaduum virum.
I know, indeed, which is most conformable to the rules of grammar: but yet I sometimes express myself as the freedom of our language allows me, as when I say at pleasure, eitherprob deum, orprob deorum;—and, at other times, as I am obliged by custom, as when I saytriumvirum forvirorum, or sestertium nummum fornummorum: because in the latter case the mode of expression is invariable.
But what shall we say when these humourists forbid us to saynosseandjudicassefornovisseandjudicavisse; as if we did not know, as well as themselves, that, in these instances, the verb at full length is most agreeable to the laws of grammar, though custom has given the preference to the contracted verb? Terence, therefore, has made use of both, as when he says,eho tu cognatum tuum non norâs? and afterwards,
Stilphonem, inquam, noveras?
Thus also,fietis a perfect verb, andfita contracted one; and accordingly we find in the same Comedian,
Quam caraSINTQUEpost carendo intelligunt,
and
Quamque attinendi magni dominatusSIENT.
In the same manner I have no objection toscripsere alii rem, though I am sensible thatscripseruntis more grammatical; because I submit with pleasure to the indulgent laws of custom which delights to gratify the ear.Idem campus habet, says Ennius; and in another place,in templis îsdem;eisdem, indeed, would have been more grammatical, but not sufficiently harmonious; andiisdemwould have sounded still worse.
But we are allowed by custom even to dispense with the rules of etymology to improve the sweetness of our language; and I would therefore rather say,pomeridianas Quadrigas, thanpostmeridianas; andmehercule, thanmehercules. For the same reasonnon scirewould now be deemed a barbarism, becaulenescirehas a smoother sound; and we have likewise substitutedmeridiemformedidiem, because the latter was offensive to the ear. Even the prepositionab, which so frequently occurs in our compound verbs is preserved entire only in the formality of a Journal, and, indeed, not always there: in every other sort of language it is frequently altered. Thus we sayamovit,abegit, andabstulit; so that you can scarcely determine whether the primitive preposition should beaborabs. We have likewise rejected evenabfugit, andabfer, and introducedaufugitandauferin their stead;—thus forming a new preposition, which is to be found in no other verb but these.Noti,navi, andnari, have all been words in common use: but when they were afterwards to be compounded with the prepositionin, it was thought more harmonious to sayignoti,ignavi, andignari, than to adhere strictly to the rules of etymology. We likewise sayex usu, ande Republicâ; because, in the former case, the preposition is followed by a vowel, and, in the latter, it would have sounded harshly without omitting the consonant; as may also be observed inexegit, edixit, refecit, retulit, andreddidit.
Sometimes the preposition alters or otherwise affects the first letter of the verb with which it happens to be compounded; as insubegit, summutavit, andsustutit. At other times it changes one of the subsequent letters; as when we sayinsipientemforinsapientem,iniquumfor inaequum_,tricipitemfortricapitem, andconcisumforconcaesum: and from hence some have ventured to saypertisumforpertaesum, which custom has never warranted.
But what can be more delicate than our changing even the natural quantity of our syllables to humour the ear? Thus in the adjectivesinclytus, andinhumanus, the first syllable after the preposition is short, whereasinsanusandinfelixhave it long; and, in general, those words whose first letters are the same as insapiensandfelix, have their first syllable long in composition, but all others have the same syllable short, ascomposuit, consuevit, concrepuit, confecit. Examine these liberties by the strict rules of etymology, and they must certainly be condemned; but refer them to the decision of the ear, and they will be instantly approved.—What is the reason? Your ear will inform you they have an easier sound; and every language must submit to gratify the ear. I myself, because our ancestors never admitted the aspirate, unless where a syllable began with a vowel, used to saypulcros, Cetegos, triumpos, andCartaginem: but some time afterwards, though not very soon, when this grammatical accuracy was wrested from me by the censure of the ear, I resigned the mode of language to the vulgar, and reserved the theory to myself. But we still say, without any hesitation,Orcivios, Matones, Otones, coepiones, sepulcra, coronas, andlacrymas, because the ear allows it.Enniusalways usesBurrum, and neverPyrrhum; and the ancient copies of the same author have
Vi patefecerunt BRUGES,
notPhryges; because the Greek vowel had not then been adopted, though we now admit both that and the aspirate:—and, in fact, when we had afterwards occasion to sayPhrygumandPhrygibus, it was rather absurd to adopt the Greek letter without adopting their cases, [Footnote: This passage, as it stands in the original, appears to me unintelligible: I have therefore taken the liberty to give it a slight alteration.] or at least not to confine it to the nominative; and yet (in the accusative) we sayPhryges, andPyrrhum, to please the ear. Formerly it was esteemed an elegancy, though it would now be considered as a rusticism, to omit thesin all words which terminate inus, except when they were followed by a vowel; and the same elision which is so carefully avoided by the modern Poets, was very far from being reckoned a fault among the ancient: for they made no scruple to say,
Qui est OMNIBU' princeps,
not, as we do, OMNIBUS princeps; and,
Vitâ illâ DIGNU' locoque,
notdignus.
But if untaught custom has been so ingenious in the formation of agreeable sounds, what may we not expect from the improvements of art and erudition? I have, however, been much shorter upon this subject, than I should have been if I had written upon it professedly: for a comparison of the natural and customary laws of language would have opened a wide field for speculation: but I have already enlarged upon it sufficiently, and more, perhaps, than the nature of my design required.
To proceed then;—as the choice of proper matter, and of suitable words to express it, depends upon the judgment of the Speaker, but that of agreeable sounds, and harmonious numbers, upon the decision of the ear; and because the former is intended for information, and the latter for pleasure; it is evident that reason must determine the rules of art in one case, and mere sensation in the other. For we must either neglect the gratification of those by whom we wish to be approved, or apply ourselves to invent the most likely methods to promote it.
There are two things which contribute to gratify the ear,—agreeablesounds, and harmoniousnumbers. We shall treat of numbers in the sequel, and at present confine ourselves tosound.—Those words, then, as we have already observed, are to have the preference which sound agreeably;—not such as are exquisitely melodious, like those of the Poets, but such as can be found to our purpose in common language.—Quà Pontus Hellesis rather beyond the mark:—but in
Auratos aries Colchorum,
the verse glitters with a moderate harmony of expression; whereas the next, as ending with a letter which is remarkably flat, is unmusical,
Frugifera et ferta arva Alfiae tenet,
Let us, therefore, rather content ourselves with the agreeable mediocrity of our own language, than emulate the splendor of the Greeks; unless we are so bigotted to the latter as to hesitate to say with the poet,
Quà tempestate Paris Helenam, &c.
we might even imitate what follows, and avoid, as far as possible, the smallest asperity of sound,
habeo istam ego PERTERRICREPAM;
or say, with the same author, in another passage,
versutiloquas MALITIAS.
But our words must have a propercompass, as well as be connected together in an agreeable manner; for this, we have observed, is another circumstance which falls under the notice of the ear. They are confined to a proper compass, either by certain rules of composition, as by a kind of natural pause, or by the use of particular forms of expression, which have a peculiarconcinnityin their very texture; such as a succession of several words which have the same termination, or the comparing similar, and contrasting opposite circumstances, which will always terminate in a measured cadence, though no immediate pains should be taken for that purpose. Gorgias, it is said, was the first Orator who practised this species ofconcinnity. The following passage in my Defence ofMilois an example.
"Est enim, Judices, haec nonscripta, fednataLex; quam nondidicimus, accepimus, legimus, verum ex Naturâ ipsâarripuimus, hausimus, expressimus; ad quam nondocti, sedfacti; noninstituti, sedimbutisimus."
"For this, my Lords, is a law not written upon tables, but impressed upon our hearts;—a law which we have not learned, or heard, or read, but eagerly caught and imbibed from the hand of Nature;—a law to which we have not been train'd, but originally form'd; and with the principles of which we have not been furnished by education, but tinctured and impregnated from the moment of our birth."
In these forms of expression every circumstance is so aptly referred to some other circumstance, that the regular turn of them does not appear to have been studied, but to result entirely from the sense. The same effect is produced by contrasting opposite circumstances; as in the following lines, where it not only forms a measured sentence, but a verse:
Eam, quam nihil accusas, damnas,
Her, whom you ne'er accus'd, you now condemn;
(in prose we should saycondemnas) and again,
Bene quam meritam esse autumas, dicis male mereri,
Her merit, once confess'd, you now deny; and,
Id quod scis, prodest nihil; id quod nescis, obest,
From what you've learnt no real good accrues,But ev'ry ill your ignorance pursues.
Here you see the mere opposition of the terms produces a verse; but in prosaic composition, the proper form of the last line would be,quod scis nihil prodest; quod nescis multum obest. This contrasting of opposite circumstances, which the Greeks call an Antithesis, will necessarily produce what is styledrhetorical metre, even without our intending it. The ancient Orators, a considerable time before it was practised and recommended byIsocrates, were fond of using it; and particularlyGorgias, whose measured cadences are generally owing to the mereconcinnityof his language. I have frequently practised it myself; as, for instance, in the following passage of my fourth Invective againstVerres:
"Confertehanc Pacemcumillo Bello;—hujusPraetorisAdventum, cumilliusImperatorisVictoriâ;—hujasCohortem impuram, cum illiusExercitu invicto;—hujusLibidines, cum illiusContinentiâ;—ab illo qui cepitconditas; ab hoc, qui constitutas accepit,captasdicetis Syracusas."
"Compare this detestablepeacewith that gloriouswar,—thearrivalof this governor with thevictoryof that commander,—hisruffian guards, with theinvincible forcesof the other;—the brutal luxury of the former, with the modest temperance of the latter;—and you will say, that Syracuse was reallyfoundedby him whostormedit, andstormedby him who received it alreadyfoundedto his hands."—So much, then, for that kind of measure which results from particular forms of expression, and which ought to be known by every Orator.
We must now proceed to the third thing proposed,—thatnumerousand well-adjusted style; of the beauty of which, if any are so insensible as not to feel it, I cannot imagine what kind of ears they have, or what resemblance of a human Being! For my part, my ears are always fond of a complete and full-measured flow of words, and perceive in an instant what is either defective or redundant. But wherefore do I saymine? I have frequently seen a whole assembly burst into raptures of applause at a happy period: for the ear naturally expects that our sentences should be properly tuned and measured. This, however, is an accomplishment which is not to be met with among the ancients. But to compensate the want of it, they had almost every other perfection: for they had a happy choice of words, and abounded in pithy and agreeable sentiments, though they had not the art of harmonizing and completing their periods. This, say some, is the very thing we admire. But what if they should take it into their heads to prefer the ancientpeinture, with all its poverty of colouring, to the rich and finished style of the moderns? The former, I suppose, must be again adopted, to compliment their delicacy, and the latter rejected. But these pretended connoisseurs regard nothing but the merenameof antiquity. It must, indeed, be owned that antiquity has an equal claim to authority in matters of imitation, as grey hairs in the precedence of age. I myself have as great a veneration for it as any man: nor do I so much upbraid antiquity with her defects, as admire the beauties she was mistress of:—especially as I judge the latter to be of far greater consequence than the former. For there is certainly more real merit in a masterly choice of words and sentiments, in which the ancients are allowed to excell, than in those measured periods with which they were totally unacquainted. This species of composition was not known among the Romans till lately: but the ancients, I believe, would readily have adopted it, if it had then been discovered: and we accordingly find, that it is now made use of by all Orators of reputation. "But whennumber, or (as the Greeks call it) prosaicmetre, is professedly introduced into judicial and forensic discourses, the very name, say they, has a suspicious sound: for people will conclude that there is too much artifice employed to sooth and captivate their ears, when the Speaker is so over-exact as to attend to the harmony of his periods." Relying upon the force of this objection, these pretenders are perpetually grating our ears with their broken and mutilated sentences; and censure those, without mercy, who have the presumption to utter an agreeable and a well-turned period. If, indeed, it was our design to spread a varnish over empty words and trifling sentiments, the censure would be just: but when the matter is good, and the words are proper and expressive, what reason can be assigned why we should prefer a limping and imperfect period to one which terminates and keeps pace with the sense? For this invidious and persecutedmetreaims at nothing more than to adapt the compass of our words to that of our thoughts; which is sometimes done even by the ancients,—though generally, I believe, by mere accident, and often by the natural delicacy of the ear; and the very passages which are now most admired in them, commonly derive their merit from the agreeable and measured flow of the language.
This is an art which was in common use among the Greek Orators, about four hundred years ago, though it has been but lately introduced among the Romans. Ennius, therefore, when he ridicules the inharmonious numbers of his predecessors, might be allowed to say,
"Such verses as the rustic Bards and Satyrs sung:"