Chapter VII: Part 7

"But as there are several kinds of Eloquence which differ considerably from each other, and therefore cannot be reduced to one common form;--for this reason, as to mere laudatory Orations, Essays, Histories, and such suasory performances as the Panegyric of Isocrates, and the speeches of many others who were called _Sophists_;--and, in short, as to every thing which is unconnected with the Forum, and the whole of that species of discourse which the Greeks call the _demonstrative_ [Footnote: The _demonstrative_ species of Eloquence is that which was solely employed either in _praising_ or _dispraising_. Besides this, there are two others, viz. the _deliberative_, and the _judicial_; the former was employed in political debates, where it's whole business was either to _persuade_ or _dissuade_; and the latter, in judicial suits and controversies, where the Speaker was either to _accuse_ or _defend_. But, on many occasions, they were all three intermingled in the same discourse.];--the form, or leading character of these I shall pass over; though I am far from considering it as a mere trifle, or a subject of no consequence; on the contrary, we may regard it as the nurse and tutoress of the Orator we are now delineating. For _here_, a fluency of expression is confessedly nourished and cultivated; and the easy construction, and harmonious cadence of our language is more openly attended to. _Here_, likewise, we both allow and recommend a studious elegance of diction, and a continued flow of melodious and well-turned periods;--and _here_, we may labour visibly, and without concealing our art, to contrast word to word, and to compare similar, and oppose contrary circumstances, and make several sentences (or parts of a sentence) conclude alike, and terminate with the same cadence; --ornaments, which in real pleadings, are to be used more sparingly, and with less appearance of art. Isocrates, therefore, confesses in his _Panathenaicus_, that these were beauties which he industriously pursued; for he composed it not for victory in a suit at law (where such a confession must have greatly injured his cause) but merely to gratify the ear.

"It is recorded that the first persons who practised this species of composition [Footnote: The _composition_ here mentioned consisted of three parts, The _first_ regarded the structure; that is, the _connection_ of our words, and required that the last syllable of every preceding, and the first of every succeeding word should be so aptly united as to produce an agreeable sound; which was effected by avoiding a collision of vowels or of inamicable consonants. It likewise required that those words should be constantly made choice of, whose separate sounds were most harmonious and most agreeable to the sense. The _second_ part consisted in the use of particular forms of expression, such as contrasts and antithesises, which have an appearance of order and regularity in their very texture. The _third_ and last regarded that species of harmony which results not so much from the sound, as from the time and quantity of the several syllables in a sentence. This was called _number_, and sometimes _rhyme_; and was in fact a kind of _prosaic metre_, which was carefully attended to by the ancients in every part of a sentence, but more particularly at the beginning and end of it. In this part they usually included the _period_, or the rules for determining the length of their sentences. I thought it necessary to give this short account of their composition, because our author very frequently alludes to it, before he proceeds to explain it at large.] were _Thrasymachus_ the Chalcedonian, and _Gorgias_ the Leontine; and that these were followed by _Theodorus_ the Byzantine, and a number of others, whom Socrates, in the Phaedrus of Plato, calls [Greek: logodaidalos] _Speech-wrights_; many of whole discourses are sufficiently neat and entertaining; but, being the first attempts of the kind, were too minute and puerile, and had too poetical an air, and too much colouring. On this account, the merit of _Herodotus_, and _Thucydides_ is the more conspicuous: for though they lived at the time we are speaking of, they carefully avoided those studied decorations, or rather futilities. The former rolls along like a deep, still river without any rocks or shoals to interrupt it's course; and the other describes wars and battles, as if he was founding a charge on the trumpet; so that history (to use the words of _Theophrastus_) caught the first alarm from these, and began to express herself with greater dignity and spirit.

"After these came _Socrates_, whom I have always recommended as the most accomplished writer we have in the way I am speaking of; though sometimes, my Brutus, you have objected to it with a great deal of pleasantry and erudition. But when you are better informed for what it is I recommend him, you will then think of him perhaps as favourably as I do. Thrasymachus and Gorgias (who are said to have been the first who cultivated the art of prosaic harmony) appeared to him to be too minutely exact; and Thucydides, he thought, was as much too loose and rugged, and not sufficiently smooth, and full-mouthed; and from hence he took the hint to give a scope to his sentences by a more copious and unconfined flow of language, and to fill up their breaks and intervals with the softer and more agreeable numbers. By teaching this to the most celebrated Speakers, and Composers of the age, his house came at last to be honoured as the _School of Eloquence_. Wherefore as I bore the censure of others with indifference, when I had the good fortune to be applauded by Cato; thus Isocrates, with the approbation of Plato, may slight the judgment of inferior critics. For in the last page of the Phaedrus, we find _Socrates_ thus expressing himself;--'Now, indeed, my dear Phaedrus,' said he, 'Isocrates is but a youth: but I will discover to you what I think of him.'--'And what is that?' replied the other.--'He appears to me,' said the Philosopher, 'to have too elevated a genius to be placed on a level with the arid speeches of Lysias. Besides, he has a stronger turn for virtue; so that I shall not wonder, as he advances in years, if in the species of Eloquence to which he now applies himself, he should exceed all, who have hitherto pursued it, like so many infants. Or, if this should not content him, I shall not be astonished to behold him with a godlike ardour pursuing higher and more important studies; for I plainly see that he has a natural bent to Philosophy!'"

Thus Socrates presaged of him when he was but a youth. But Plato recorded this eulogium when he was older; and he recorded it, though he was one of his equals and cotemporaries, and a professed enemy to the whole tribe of Rhetoricians! _Him_ he admires, and _him_ alone! So that such who despise Isocrates, must suffer me to err with Socrates and Plato.

The manner of speaking, then, which is observed in the _demonstrative_ or ornamental species of Eloquence, and which I have before remarked, was peculiar to the Sophists, is sweet, harmonious, and flowing, full of pointed sentiments, and arrayed in all the brilliance of language. But it is much fitter for the parade than the field; and being, therefore, consigned to the Palaestra, and the schools, has been long banished from the Forum. As Eloquence, however, after she had been fed and nourished with this, acquires a fresher complexion, and a firmer constitution; it would not be amiss, I thought, to trace our Orator from his very _cradle_.

But these things are only for shew and amusement: whereas it is our business to take the field in earnest, and prepare for action. As there are three particulars, then, to be attended to by an Orator,--viz. _what_ he is to say, in _what order_, and _how_; we shall consider what is most excellent in each; but after a different manner from what is followed in delivering a system of the Art. For we are not to furnish a set of precepts (this not being the province we have undertaken) but to exhibit a portrait of Eloquence in her full perfection: neither is it our business to explain the methods by which we may acquire it, but only to shew what opinion we ought to form of it.

The two first articles are to be lightly touched over; for they have not so much a remarkable as a necessary share in forming the character of a compleat Orator, and are likewise common to _his_ with many other professions;--and though, to invent, and judge with accuracy, what is proper to be said, are important accomplishments, and the same as the soul is to the body, yet they rather belong to _prudence_ than to Eloquence. In what cause, however, can _prudence_ be idle? Our Orator, therefore, who is to be all perfection, should be thoroughly acquainted with the sources of argument and proof. For as every thing which can become the subject of debate, must rest upon one or another of these particulars, viz.--whether a fact has been really committed, or what name it ought to bear in law, or whether it is agreeable or contrary to justice; and as the reality of a fact must be determined by force of evidence, the true name of it by it's definition, and the quality of it by the received notions of right and wrong;--an Orator (not an ordinary one, but the finished Speaker we are describing) will always turn off the controversy, as much as possible, from particular persons and times, (for we may argue more at liberty concerning general topics than about circumstances) in such a manner that what is proved to be true _universally_, may necessarily appear to be so in all _subordinate_ cases. The point in debate being thus abstracted from particular persons and times, and brought to rest upon general principles, is called a _thesis_. In _this_ the famous Aristotle carefully practised his scholars;--not to argue with the formal precision of Philosophers, but to canvass a point handsomely and readily on both sides, and with all the copiousness so much admired in the Rhetoricians: and for this purpose he delivered a set of _common places_ (for so he calls them) which were to serve as so many marks or characters for the discovery of arguments, and from which a discourse might be aptly framed on either side of a question.

Our Orator then, (for I am not speaking of a mere school-declaimer, or a noisy ranter in the Forum, but of a well-accomplished and a finished Speaker)--our Orator, as there is such a copious variety of common-places, will examine them all, and employ those which suit his purpose in as general and indefinite a manner as his cause will permit, and carefully trace and investigate them to their inmost sources. But he will use the plenty before him with discretion, and weighing every thing with the utmost accuracy, select what is best: for the stress of an argument does not always, and in every cause, depend upon similar topics. He will, therefore, exercise his judgment; and not only discover what _may_ be said, but thoroughly examine the _force_ of it. For nothing is more fertile than the powers of genius, and especially those which have been blessed with the cultivation of science. But as a rich and fruitful soil not only produces corn in abundance, but also weeds to choak and smother it; so from the common-places we are speaking of, many arguments will arise, which are either trivial, or foreign to our purpose, or entirely useless. An Orator, therefore, should carefully examine each, that he may be able to select with propriety. Otherwise, how can he enlarge upon those which are most pertinent, and dwell upon such as more particularly affect his cause? Or how can he soften a harsh circumstance, or conceal, and (if possible) entirely suppress what would be deemed unanswerable, or steal off the attention of the hearer to a different topic? Or how alledge another argument in reply, which shall be still more plausible than that of his antagonist?

But after he has thus _invented_ what is proper to be said, with what accuracy must he _methodize_ it? For this is the second of the three articles above-mentioned. Accordingly, he will give the portal of his Harangue a graceful appearance, and make the entrance to his cause as neat and splendid as the importance of it will permit. When he has thus made himself master of the hearer's good wishes at the first onset, he will endeavour to invalidate what makes against him; and having, by this means, cleared his way, his strongest arguments will appear some of them in the front, and others at the close of his discourse; and as to those of more trifling consequence, he will occasionally introduce [Footnote: In the Original it is _inculcabit_, he will _tread them in_, (like the sand or loose dust in a new pavement) to support and strengthen the whole.] them here and there, where he judges them likely to be most serviceable. Thus, then, we have given a cursory view of what he ought to be, in the two first departments of Oratory. But, as we before observed, these, though very important in their consequences, require less art and application.

After he has thus invented what is proper to be said, and in what order, the greatest difficulty is still behind;--namely to consider _how_ he is to say it, and _in what manner_. For the observation of our favourite _Carneades_ is well-known,--"That _Clitomachus_ had a perpetual sameness of sentiment, and Charmidas a tiresome uniformity of expression." But if it is a circumstance of so much moment in Philosophy, _in what manner_ we express ourselves, where the matter, and not the language, is principally regarded; what must we think of public debates, which are wholly ruled and swayed by the powers of Elocution? Accordingly, my Brutus, I am sensible from your letters, that you mean to inquire what are my notions of a finished Speaker, not so much with respect to his Invention and Disposition, as to his talents of _Elocution_:--a severe task! and the most difficult you could have fixed upon! For as language is ever soft and yielding, and so amazingly pliable that you may bend and form it at your pleasure; so different natures and dispositions have given rise to different kinds of Elocution. Some, for instance, who place the chief merit of it in it's rapidity, are mightily pleased with a torrent of words, and a volubility of expression. Others again are better pleased with regular, and measured intervals, and frequent stops, and pauses. What can be more opposite? and yet both have their proper excellence. Some also confine their attention to the smoothness and equability of their periods, and aim at a style which is perfectly neat and clear: while others affect a harshness, and severity of diction, and to give a gloomy cast to their language:--and as we have already observed that some endeavour to be nervous and majestic, others neat and simple, and some to be smooth and florid, it necessarily follows that there must be as many different kinds of Orators, as there are of Eloquence. But as I have already enlarged the talk you have imposed upon me;--(for though your enquiries related only to Elocution, I have ventured a few hints on the arts of Invention and Disposition;)--I shall now treat not only of _Elocution_, but of _action_. By this means, every part of Oratory will be attended to: for as to _memory_, which is common to this with many other arts, it is entirely out of the question.

The Art of Speaking then, so far as it regards only the _manner_ in which our thoughts should be expressed, consists in _action_ and _Elocution_; for action is the Eloquence of the body, and implies the proper management of our _voice_ and _gesture_. As to the inflexions of the voice, they are as numerous as the various passions it is capable of exciting. The finished Orator, therefore, who is the subject of this Essay, in whatever manner he would appear to be affected himself, and touch the heart of his hearer, will employ a suitable and corresponding tone of voice:--a topic which I could willingly enlarge upon, if delivering precepts was any part of my present design, or of your request. I should likewise have treated concerning _gesture_, of which the management of the countenance is a material part: for it is scarcely credible of what great importance it is to an Orator to recommend himself by these external accomplishments. For even those who were far from being masters of good language, have many times, by the sole dignity of their action, reaped the fruits of Eloquence; while others who had the finest powers of Elocution, have too often, by the mere awkwardness of their delivery, led people to imagine that they were scarcely able to express themselves:--so that Demosthenes, with sufficient reason, assigned the first place, and likewise the second and third to _pronunciation_. For if Eloquence without this is nothing, but this, even without Eloquence, has such a wonderful efficacy, it must be allowed to bear the principal sway in the practice of Speaking.

If an Orator, then, who is ambitious to win the palm of Eloquence, has any thing to deliver which is warm and cutting, let his voice be strong and quick;--if what is calm and gentle, let it be mild and easy;--if what is grave and sedate, let it be cool and settled;--and if what is mournful and affecting, let his accents be plaintive and flexible. For the voice may be raised or depressed, and extended or contracted to an astonishing degree; thus in Music (for instance) it's three tones, the _mean_, the _acute_, and the _grave_, may be so managed by art, as to produce a pleasing and an infinite variety of sounds. Nay, even in Speaking, there may be a concealed kind of music:--not like the whining epilogue of a Phrygian or a Carian declaimer, but such as was intended by _Aeschines_, and _Demosthenes_, when the one upbraids and reproaches the other with the artificial modulations of his voice. _Demosthenes_, however, says most upon this head, and often speaks of his accuser as having a sweet and clear pronunciation. There is another circumstance, which may farther enforce our attention to the agreeable management of the voice; for Nature herself, as if she meant to harmonize the speech of man, has placed an accent on every word, and one accent only, which never lies farther than the third syllable from the last. Why, therefore, should we hesitate to follow her example, and to do our best to gratify the ear? A good voice, indeed, though a desirable accomplishment, is not in our power to acquire:--but to exercise, and improve it, is certainly in the power of every person.

The Orator, then, who means to be the prince of his profession, will change and vary his voice with the most delicate propriety; and by sometimes raising, and sometimes depressing it, pursue it gradually through all it's different tones, and modulations. He will likewise regulate his _gesture_, so as to avoid even a single motion which is either superfluous or impertinent. His posture will be erect and manly:-- he will move from his ground but seldom, and not even then too precipitately; and his advances will be few and moderate. He will practise no languishing, no effeminate airs of the head, no finical playing of the fingers, no measured movement of the joints. The chief part of his gesture will consist in the firm and graceful sway of his body, and in extending his arm when his arguments are pressing, and drawing it again when his vehemence abates. But as to the _countenance_, which next to the voice has the greatest efficacy, what dignity and gracefulness is it not capable of supporting! and when you have been careful that it may neither be unmeaning, nor ostentatious, there is still much to be left to the expression of the _eyes_. For if the countenance is the _image_ of the mind, the eyes are it's _interpreters_, whose degree of pleasantry or sadness must be proportioned to the importance of our subject.

But we are to exhibit the portrait of a finished Orator, whose chief excellence must be supposed, from his very name, to consist in his _Elocution_; while his other qualifications (though equally complete) are less conspicuous. For a mere inventor, a mere digester, or a mere actor, are titles never made use of to comprize the whole character; but an Orator derives his name, both in Greek and Latin, from the single talent of Elocution. As to his other qualifications, every man of sense may claim a share of them: but the full powers of language are exerted by himself alone. Some of the philosophers, indeed, have expressed themselves in a very handsome manner: for _Theophrastus_ derived his name from the divinity of his style; _Aristotle_ rivalled the glory of _Isocrates_; and the Muses themselves are said to have spoken from the lips of _Xenophon_; and, to say no more, the great _Plato_ is acknowledged in majesty and sweetness to have far exceeded all who ever wrote or spoke. But their language has neither the nerves nor the sting which is required in the Orator's, when he harangues the crowded Forum. They speak only to the learned, whose passions they rather choose to compose than disturb; and they discourse about matters of calm and untumultuous speculation, merely as teachers, and not like eager antagonists: though even _here_, when they endeavour to amuse and delight us, they are thought by some to exceed the limits of their province. It will be easy, therefore, to distinguish this species of Elocution from the Eloquence we are attempting to delineate. For the language of philosophy is gentle and composed, and entirely calculated for the shady walks of the Academy;--not armed with those forcible sentiments, and rapid turns of expression, which are suited to move the populace, nor measured by exact numbers and regular periods, but easy, free, and unconfined. It has nothing resentful belonging to it, nothing invidious, nothing fierce and flaming, nothing exaggerated, nothing marvellous, nothing artful and designing; but resembles a chaste, a bashful, and an unpolluted virgin. We may, therefore, consider it as a kind of polite conversation, rather than a species of Oratory.

As to the _Sophists_, whom I have already mentioned, the resemblance ought to be more accurately distinguished: for they industriously pursue the same flowers which are used by an Orator in the Forum. But they differ in this,--that, as their principal aim is not to disturb the passions, but rather to allay them, and not so much to persuade as to please,--they attempt the latter more openly, and more frequently than we do. They seek for agreeable sentiments, rather than probable ones; they use more frequent digressions, intermingle tales and fables, employ more shewy metaphors, and work them into their discourses with as much fancy and variety as a painter does his colours; and they abound in contrasts and antitheses, and in similar and corresponding cadences.

Nearly allied to these is _History_, which conducts her narratives with elegance and ease, and now and then sketches out a country, or a battle. She likewise diversifies her story with short speeches, and florid harangues: but in these, only neatness and fluency is to be expected, and not the vehemence and poignant severity of an Orator [Footnote: In the Original it is,--_sed in his tracta quaedam et fluens expetitur, nan haec contorta, et acris Oratorio_; upon which Dr. Ward has made the following remark:--"Sentences, with respect to their form or composition, are distinguished into two sorts, called by Cicero _tracta_, strait or direct, and _contorta_, bent or winding. By the former are meant such, whose members follow each other in a direct order, without any inflexion; and by the latter, those which strictly speaking are called periods."].

There is much the same difference between Eloquence and _Poetry_; for the Poets likewise have started the question, What it is which distinguishes them from the Orators? It was formerly supposed to be their _number_ and _metre_: but numbers are now as familiar to the Orator, as to the Poet; for whatever falls under the regulation of the ear, though it bears no resemblance to verse (which in Oratory would be a capital fault) is called _number_, and by the Greeks _rhyme_. [Footnote: [Greek: Ruthmos]] In the opinion of some, therefore, the style of _Plato_ and _Democritus_, on account of it's majestic flow, and the splendor of it's ornaments, though it is far from being verse, has a nearer resemblance to poetry than the style of the Comedians, who, excepting their metre, have nothing different from the style of conversation. Metre, however, is far from being the principal merit of the Poets; though it is certainly no small recommendation, that, while they pursue all the beauties of Eloquence, the harmony of their numbers is far more regular and exact. But, though the language of Poetry is equally grand and ornamental with that of an Orator, she undoubtedly takes greater liberties both in making and compounding word; and frequently administers to the pleasure of her hearers, more by the pomp and lustre of her expressions, than by the weight and dignity of her sentiments. Though judgment, therefore, and a proper choice of words, is alike common to both, yet their difference in other respects is sufficiently discernible: but if it affords any matter of doubt (as to some, perhaps, it may) the discussion of it is no way necessary to our present purpose.

We are, therefore, to delineate the Orator who differs equally from the Eloquence of the Philosopher, the Sophist, the Historian, and the Poet. He, then, is truly eloquent, (for after _him_ we must search, by the direction of Antonius) who in the Forum, and in public debates, can so speak, as to _prove_, _delight_, and _force the passions_. To _prove_, is a matter of necessity:--to _delight_, is indispensably requisite to engage the attention:--and to _force the passions_, is the surest means of victory; for this contributes more effectually than both the others to get a cause decided to our wishes. But as the duties of an Orator, so the kinds of Elocution are three. The neat and accurate is used in _proving;_ the moderately florid in _delighting_ apd the vehement and impetuous in _forcing_ _the passions,_ in which alone all the power of Eloquence consists. Great, therefore, must be the judgment, and wonderful the talents of the man, who can properly conduct, and, as it were, temper this threefold variety: for he will at once determine what is suitable to every case; and be always able to express himself as the nature of his subject may require.

Discretion, therefore, is the basis of Eloquence, as well as of every other accomplishment. For, as in the conduct of life, so in the practice of Speaking, nothing is more difficult than to maintain a propriety of character. This is called by the Greeks [Greek: to prepon], _the becoming,_ but we shall call it _decorum;_--a subject which has been excellently and very copiously canvassed, and richly merits our attention. An unacquaintance with this has been the source of innumerable errors, not only in the business of life, but in Poetry and Eloquence. An Orator, therefore, should examine what is becoming, as well in the turn of his language, as in that of his sentiments. For not every condition, not every rank, not every character, nor every age, or place, or time, nor every hearer is to be treated with the same invariable train either of sentiment or expression:--but we should always consider in every part of a public Oration, as well as of life, what will be most becoming,--a circumstance which naturally depends on the nature of the subject, and the respective characters of the Speaker and Hearer. Philosophers, therefore, have carefully discussed this extensive and important topic in the doctrine of Ethics, (though not, indeed, when they treat of right and wrong, because those are invariably the fame:)--nor is it less attended to by the Critics in their poetical Essays, or by men of Eloquence in every species and every part of their public debates. For what would be more out of character, than to use a lofty style, and ransack every topic of argument, when we are speaking only of a petty trespass in some inferior court? Or, on the other hand, to descend to any puerile subtilties, and speak with the indifference and simplicity of a frivolous narrative, when we are lashing treason and rebellion?

_Here_, the indecorum would arise from the very nature and quality of the subject: but others are equally guilty of it, by not adapting their discourse either to their own characters, or to that of their hearers, and, in some cafes, to that of their antagonists; and they extend the fault not only to their sentiments, but to the turn of their expression. It is true, indeed, that the force of language is a mere nothing, when it is not supported by a proper solidity of sentiment: but it is also equally true that the same thing will be either approved or rejected, according as it is this or that way expressed. In all cases, therefore, we cannot be too careful in examining the _how far_? for though every thing has it's proper mean, yet an _excess_ is always more offensive and disgusting than a proportionable _defect_. _Apelles_, therefore, justly censures some of his cotemporary artists, because they never knew when they had performed enough.

This, my Brutus, as your long acquaintance with it must necessarily inform you, is a copious subject, and would require an extensive volume to discuss. But it is sufficient to our present purpose to observe, that in all our words and actions, as well the smallest as the greatest, there is a something which will appear either becoming or unbecoming, and that almost every one is sensible of it's confluence. But what is becoming, and what _ought to be_, are very different considerations, and belong to a different topic:--for the _ought to be_ points out the perfection of duty, which should be attended to upon all occasions, and by all persons: but the _becoming_ denotes that which is merely _proper_, and suited to time and character, which is of great importance not only in our actions and language, but in our very looks, our gesture, and our walk; and that which is contrary to it will always be _unbecoming_, and disagreeable. If the Poet, therefore, carefully guards against any impropriety of the kind, and is always condemned as guilty of a fault, when he puts the language of a worthy man into the mouth of a ruffian, or that of a wife man into the mouth of a fool:--if, moreover, the artist who painted the sacrifice of _Iphigenia_, [Footnote: Agamemnon, one of the Grecian chiefs, having by accident slain a deer belonging to Diana, the Goddess was so enraged at this profanation of her honours, that she kept him wind-bound at Aulis with the whole fleet. Under this heavy disaster, having recourse to the Oracle, (their usual refuge in such cases) they were informed that the only atonement which the angry Goddess would accept, was the sacrifice of one of the offender's children. Ulysses having, by a stratagem, withdrawn _Iphigenia_ from her mother for that purpose, the unhappy Virgin was brought to the altar. But, as the story goes, the Goddess relenting at her hard fate, substituted a deer in her stead, and conveyed her away to serve her as a Priestess. It must be farther remarked that _Menelaus_ was the Virgin's uncle, and Calchas the Priest who was to officiate at this horrid sacrifice.] could see that _Chalcas_ should appear greatly concerned, _Ulysses_ still more so, and _Menelaus_ bathed in tears, but that the head of Agamemnon (the virgin's father) should be covered with his robe, to intimate a degree of anguish which no pencil could express: lastly, if a mere actor on the stage is ever cautious to keep up the character he appears in, what must be done by the Orator? But as this is a matter of such importance, let him consider at his leisure, what is proper to be done in particular causes, and in their several parts and divisions:--for it is sufficiently evident, not only that the different parts of an Oration, but that entire causes ought to be managed, some in one manner, and some in another.

We must now proceed to delineate the form and character of each of the three species of Eloquence above-mentioned; a great and an arduous talk, as I have already observed more than once; But we should have considered the difficulty of the voyage before we embarked: for now we have ventured to set sail, we must run boldly before the wind, whether we reach our port or not.

The first character, then, to be described, is the Orator who, according to some, is the only one that has any just pretensions to _Atticism_. He is distinguished by his modest simplicity; and as he imitates the language of conversation, he differs from those who are strangers to Eloquence, rather in reality than in appearance. For this reason, those who hear him, though totally unskilled in the art of Speaking, are apt to persuade themselves that they can readily discourse in the same manner [Footnote: There is a pretty remark to the same purpose in the fifteenth number of _The Guardian_, which, as it may serve to illustrate the observation of Cicero, I shall beg leave to insert.

"From what I have advanced, it appears how difficult it is to write _easily_. But when easy writings fall into the hands of an ordinary reader, they appear to him so natural and unlaboured, that he immediately resolves to write, and fancies that all he has to do is to take no pains. Thus he thinks indeed simply, but the thoughts not being chosen with judgment, are not beautiful. He, it is true, expresses himself plainly, but flatly withal. Again, if a man of vivacity takes it into his head to write this way, what self-denial must he undergo, when bright points of wit occur to his fancy? How difficult will he find it to reject florid phrases, and pretty embellishments of style? So true it is, that simplicity of all things is the hardest to be copied, and case to be acquired with the greatest labour."];--and the unaffected simplicity of his language appears very imitable to an ignorant observer; though nothing will be found less so by him who makes the trial. For, if I may so express myself, though his veins are not over-stocked with blood, his juices must be found and good; and though he is not possessed of any extraordinary strength, he must have a healthy constitution. For this purpose, we must first release him from the shackles of _number_; for there is (you know) a kind of _number_ to be observed by an Orator, which we shall treat of in the sequel:--but this is to be used in a different species of Eloquence, and to be relinquished in the present. His language, therefore, must be free and unconfined, but not loose and irregular, that he may appear to walk at ease, without reeling or tottering. He will not be at the pains to cement word to word with a scrupulous exactness: for those breaks which are made by a collision of vowels, have now and then an agreeable effect, and betray the not unpleasing negligence of a man who is more felicitous about things than words. But though he is not to labour at a measured flow, and a masterly arrangement of his words, he must be careful in other respects. For even these limited and unaspiring talents are not to be employed carelessly, but with a kind of industrious negligence: for as some females are most becoming in a dishabille, so this artless kind of Eloquence has her charms, though she appears in an undress. There is something in both which renders them agreeable, without striking the eye. Here, therefore, all the glitter of ornament, like that of jewels and diamonds, must be laid aside; nor must we apply even the crisping-iron to adjust the hair. There must be no colouring, no artful washes to heighten the complexion: but elegance and neatness must be our only aim. Our style muft be pure, and correct;--we must speak with clearness and perspicuity; --and be always attentive to appear in character. There is one thing, however, which must never be omitted, and which is reckoned by Theophrastus to be one of the chief beauties of composition;--I mean that sweet and flowing ornament, a plentiful intermixture of lively sentiments, which seem to result from a natural fund of good sense, and are peculiarly graceful in the Orator we are now describing. But he will be very moderate in using the _furniture_ of Eloquence: for (if I may be allowed such an expression) there is a species of furniture belonging to us, which consists in the various ornaments of sentiment and language. The ornaments of language are two-fold; the one sort relates to words as they stand singly, and the other as they are connected together. A _single_ word (I speak of those which are _proper_, and in common use) is then said to be well chosen, when it founds agreeably, and is the best which could have been taken to express our meaning. Among borrowed and _translatitious_ [Footnote: Words which are transferred from their primitive meaning to a metaphorical one.] words, (or those which are not used in their proper sense) we may reckon the metaphor, the metonymy, and the rest of the tropes; as also compounded and new-made words, and such as are obsolete and out of date; but obsolete words should rather be considered as proper ones, with this only difference, that we seldom make use of them. As to words in connection, these also may be considered as ornamental, when they have a certain gracefulness which would be destroyed by changing their order, though the meaning would still remain the same. For as to the ornaments of sentiment, which lose nothing of their beauty, by varying the position of the words,--these, indeed, are very numerous, though only a few of them are remarkably striking.

The Orator, then, who is distinguished by the simplicity of his manner, provided he is correct and elegant, will be sparing in the use of new words; easy and modest in his metaphors; and very cautious in the use of words which are antiquated;--and as to the other ornaments of language and sentiment, here also he will be equally plain and reserved. But in the use of metaphors, he will, perhaps, take greater liberties; because these are frequently introduced in conversation, not only by Gentlemen, but even by rustics, and peasants: for we often hear them say that the vine _shoots out_ it's buds, that the fields are _thirsty_, the corn _lively_, and the grain _rich_ and flourishing. Such expressions, indeed, are rather bold: but the resemblance between the metaphor and the object is either remarkably obvious; or else, when the latter has no proper name to express it, the metaphor is so far from appearing to be laboured, that we seem to use it merely to explain our meaning. This, therefore, is an ornament in which our artless Orator may indulge himself more freely; but not so openly as in the more diffusive and lofty species of Eloquence. For that _indecorum_, which is best understood by comparing it with its opposite quality, will even here be viable when a metaphor is too conspicuous;--or when this simple and dispassionate sort of language is interrupted by a bold ornament, which would have been proper enough in a different kind of Elocution.

As to that sort of ornament which regards the position of words, and embellishes it with those studied graces, which are considered by the Greeks as so many _attitudes_ of language, and are therefore called _figures_, (a name which is likewise extended to the flowers of sentiment;)--the Orator before us, who may justly be regarded as an _Attic_ Speaker, provided the title is not confined to him, will make use even of _this_, though with great caution and moderation. He will conduct himself as if he was setting out an entertainment, and while he carefully avoids a splendid magnificence, he will not only be plain and frugal, but neat and elegant, and make his choice accordingly. For there is a kind of genteel parsimony, by which his character is distinguished from that of others. He will, therefore, avoid the more conspicuous ornaments above- mentioned, such as the contracting word to word,--the concluding the several members of a sentence with the same cadence, or confining them to the same measure,--and all the studied prettiness which are formed by the change of a letter, or an artful play of found;--that, if possible, there may not be the slightest appearance, or even suspicion, of a design to please. As to those repetitions which require an earnest and forcible exertion of the voice, these also would be equally out of character in this lower species of Eloquence; but he may use the other ornaments of Elocution at his pleasure, provided he checks and interrupts the flow of his language, and softens it off by using familiar expressions, and such metaphors as are plain and obvious. Nay, even as to the figures of sentiment, he may sometimes indulge himself in those which are not remarkably bold and striking. Thus, for instance, we must not allow him to introduce the Republic as speaking, nor to fetch up the dead from their graves, nor to crowd a multitude of ideas into the same period. These efforts demand a firmer constitution, and should be neither required nor expected from the simple Orator before us; for as in his voice, so likewise in his language, he should be ever easy and composed. But there are many of the nobler ornaments which may be admitted even here, though always in a plainer and more artless habit than in any other species of Eloquence; for such is the character we have assigned him. His gesture also will be neither pompous, nor theatrical, but consist in a moderate and easy sway of the body, and derive much of it's efficacy from the countenance,--not a stiff and affected countenance, but such a one as handsomely corresponds with his sentiments.

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 called _humour_. 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 of _ridicule_ are 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 a _simple and an easy Speaker_, who is likewise a very masterly one, and a genuine Athenian; for whatever is smart and pertinent is unquestionably _Attic_, though some of the Attic Speakers were not remarkable for their wit. _Lysias_, indeed, and _Hyperides_ were sufficiently so; and _Demades_, 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. In _this_ all the ornaments of language may be employed without reserve; and _here_ the 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 to _Demetrius Phalereus_, whose Eloquence is ever mild and placid, and bespangled with a most elegant variety of metaphors and other tropes, like so many _stars_. By _metaphors_, 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 were _transplanted_ from their proper objects to others, by way of similitude. As to _tropes_ in 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 by _Ennius_ in 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 an _Hypallage_, because one word is substituted for another: but the Grammarians call it a _Metonymy_, because the words are shifted and interchanged. Aristotle, however, subjoins it to the metaphor, as he likewise does the _Abuse_ or _Catachresis_; by which, for instance, we say a _narrow, contracted soul_, instead of a _mean_ one, 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 an _Allegory_, which indeed is proper enough if we only attend to the etymology; but if we mean to refer it to its particular _genus_ or kind, he has done better who comprehends the whole under the general name of metaphors. These, however, are frequently used by _Phalereus_, 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 the _middling_, 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 the _Sophists_ into 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.

The _third character_ is the extensive,--the copious,--the nervous,--the majestic Orator, who possesses the powers of Elocution in their full extent. _This_ is 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!--_this_ the 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 I _have_ seen, but upon what I could _wish_ to 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 of _eloquent_; in other words, I am seeking after Eloquence herself, who can be discerned only by the eye of the mind.