CHAP. I. A Preface to the whole, &c.

YOu are not ignorant (dear Terentianus) that when we read toge­ther the small Trea­tise of Loftiness, which Cecili­us wrote, we found, that the [Page 2] meanness of his Style did not at all suit with the greatness of his Subject; that he had omit­ted the most material Branches thereof; and that, in a word, it was not a work any ways useful to the Reader, which ought to be the chiefest aim and endeavours of those who write. Besides, he that will treat of any Art, must carefully consider two things: the First of which is, so to handle his Subject, that it be clearly understood. The Second (and, as I take it, the most material which we now drive at) is, to shew, how and by what means the same may be attained. In the first of these, Cecilius has been ex­tremely careful; for in many words he tells us what this lof­tiness is, as if it were a thing altogether unknown; but is [Page 3] not so kind, as to instruct us what way we must take to ac­quire it, that he passes by, yet wherefore, I know not, unless that he look upon it as useless, and not worth his while. How­ever, to give him his due, this Author is not so much to be discommended for the faults he has committed, as worthy of praise for his well-meant de­sign, and the great pains he has taken. Now then, since your earnest entreaties have pre­vail'd with me to say some­thing upon this Toppick, I have made a few reasonable observations thereupon, which perhaps may prove advantagi­ous to many of our Rhetorici­ans. But upon this condition, that we shall peruse them toge­ther, and that you will freely speak your opinion. For as a [Page 4] certainPythagoras. wise man has very well ob­served, If there is any thing that can liken us to the Gods, 'tis to be courteous, and speak the truth. Lastly, it being to you, a man of pro­found Learning and Know­ledge, that I direct this Dis­course, I shall not dwell long upon several points, very ne­cessary to be laid down and understood, before I proceed to the principal matter; nor use many words to tell you, that Loftiness is the thing which gives a Sovereign per­fection to well-speaking, and that by which, not onely Poets, but other Writers of all Ages have grown famous to Posterity; for it does not so much perswade, as transport us to a certain admiration and [Page 5] astonishment, which is a clear different thing from bare plea­sing or perswading. It may be said of Perswasion, that for the most part it has no more power over us, than we our selves will allow; but 'tis not so of Loftiness, that gives life and vigour to Speech, which works irresistably upon the very Souls of those who have it. Nor is any thing sufficient to the re­commendation of a piece, or the setting off the fineness of the invention, and beauty of the Oeconomy or disposition thereof, unless there be a just Height and Loftiness, whereby the whole strength and finews of Oratory are firmly united and contracted together. But all I shall or can say herein, will be of little use to you, who al­ready know these things by [Page 6] experience, and are able to be my Instructer.

CHAP. II. If Loftiness be a peculiar Art, &c.

FIrst, let us see whether Lof­tiness be a peculiar Art; for there are those that will not allow that it ought to be so reckon'd, or that it may be re­duced to a certain method by Rules and Precepts. Loftiness, say they, is not artificially to be learn'd, but the onely way to have it, is to be born to it. In this, as in many other things, they will admit of no other Mistris than Nature her self, confidently and ignorantly af­firming, that from the constraint [Page 7] of Rules, nothing can be ex­pected but weak and barren thoughts. Yet I doubt not ma­nifestly to prove the contrary. True it is, that Nature never appears more liberal than in sublime and pathetical Speech; yet not so, as altogether to ex­clude Art: I grant, that in all things she is the principal Foundation and Basis; but cer­tain it is, that we ought to have some method, which may teach us what may be said, and in what place; and this is that that contributes to a per­fect habit of Loftiness. For as a Ship that is set a drift, and not duely ballanc'd, is in great dan­ger of perishing; so is it of Loftiness, if it be suffered to be carried away with the impe­tuous stream of a rash ignorant Nature. Our Fancy hath often­times [Page 8] as much need of a Curb as a Spur. And Demosthenes tells us, that the greatest good which can befall us in this life, is to be happy; but that there is yet another, without which, the former cannot subsist, (viz.) To know how to carry our selves discreetly. The same may be said of the Elegancy of Speech, Na­ture is that which must lead the way to it, but without the conduct of Art, she becomes blind, and leads us astray. Note, Note, the Author had spoken of a Ro­mantick Style, and to that purpose ci­ted some fooleries of a Tragick Poet. These are his thoughts, The torrent of twi­sted flames, to vomit against Heaven, to make Borcas his Flutinist. And many more such like expressi­ons is this piece stuff'd with, which are not lofty and great, [Page 9] but extravagantly Bombastick, and if closely examined, so con­founded with vain and intricate thoughts; that they rather seem troublesom and ridicilous, then Delightfull or Magnificent; if then it be a fault in Tragedy, (which naturally is Lofty and Great) to be cram'd with imper­tinent Raptures; how much more is it to be dissalow'd in common Speech; hence is it, that Georgius is censur'd for calling Xertes, the Jupiter of the Persians: and Vultures, living Sepulchers. The same Fate hath Calisthenes found, who in many places of his Writings, not observing a due Pitch has soared quite out of sight. Yet do I not find any one so guilty of this folly as Clytarcus, Who affects such Haughtiness in all his expres­sions, that (so speak in Sophocles's [Page 10] termes) he lookes like one who opens his Mouth wide to breath into a small Pipe: The same may be said of Amphicartes, Hegesias, and Matris, all so full of Enthusiasme, and Divine Extasie, that when they think to Thunder, they do but make noise, and play the Fool like little Children; and without doubt in Eloquence, there is nothing so hard to be avoided, as Excess of Fancy: for while we aim naturally at something that is extraordinary out of fear of being thought too lowly, for the most part we are subject to this Error, upon this perswasion that.

[Page 11]But most certain it is, that a Tumor in any part of the Body is not more dangerous then in Speech; which, however it ap­pears outwardly, is within a meer Vacuum and Timpany: as tis observed, that there is no di­sease so juceless, or that renders the Patient so thirsty, as the Dropsy. In fine, the fault of a two Haughty Stile, is, that it transgresseth the very bounds of greatness; contrary to this, is a Childish and Foolish Stile, than which nothing can be more averse to the delicacy and gran­deur of Speech. Let us then see what it is, and we shall find, 'tis nothing but a School-boyes thought, which by a too nice examination becomes cold and insipid. This is the fault of those, who striving to say something extreamly fine, and [Page 12] affecting altogether Tropes and Figures, produce nothing but dull affectation. There is a­nother Enemie to true Elocu­tion, which relates to the pathe­ticall part; Theodorus calls it, an unseasonable Madness; when one rages too high where he ought to be calm, or grows too hot, where he should be but lukewarm; so that some men drunk with this fury, do not express themselves with a be­coming Air, but fall into the extravagant Fit, of a declai­ming School-boy; and thereby become insupportably odious to their audience; which neces­arily must happen, when they rise where they should fall, and fall where they ought to rise, but of this in annother place.

CHAP. III. Of a Faint Style.

OF this faint childish style, whereof we have just before spoken, Timeus is very full; not but that here and there he has a touch of greatness; and to say truth, his fancy is good, and well enough exprest. yet is he naturally inclined to censure other mens faults, tho blinded with his own; and so curious in searching after new unheard of thoughts, that he cannot in the end avoid this Childishness. To this purpose I shall quote onely two or three examples; seeing Cecilius has already afforded us so many in his commendation of Alexander [Page 14] the great, he has (saith he) Conquered Asia in less time, then Isocrates spent in Writing his Panegyrick. Here is an ex­cellent comparison of Alexander the great with a Rhetorician, by the same reason (if I mistake not good Timeus) should the Lacedemonians yield to Isocrates; seeing they spenth thirty years in beseiging Messina, whereas he composed his Panegyrick in ten. Again, when several Athenians were taken Prisoners in Scicilie, what think you was the excla­mation he made, you shall hear. It is (said he) a punishment from Heaven by reason of their Impiety towards the God Her­mes, Hermes in Greek Sng­nifies Mer­cury. otherwise called Mercury, in Demol­lishing his statues; and the ra­ther for that one of the chief Of­ficers in the Enemies Army was [Page 15] called Hermocrates the Son of Her­mes saith Terrentianus. I wonder why he did not as well say, that the Gods permitted Dionysius the Tyrant to be drove out of his Kingdome by Dyon and Herclydes by reason of his irreverence to Dyon and Heracles, [...], Jupiter [...] Herculis. (that is) Jupiter and Hercules, but what need I trouble my self, any lon­ger with Timeus, Xenophon and Plato those ancient worthies, and Schollers of Socrates, did sometimes forget themselves, and fall into such meane silly expresions; for example, the former of these two in the Book which he wrought of the Go­vernment of the Lacedemonians hath these words. You shall no more hear them Speak (saith he) then Stones; they stir their Eyes no more then if they were made [Page 16] of Brass. Lastly they have more modesty then is in those parts of the Eye which in Greeke we call Virgins. 'Twere more proper for Ampicartes then Zenophon to say the Eye-balls were Virgins full of modesty. Good God! what a thought was there, be­cause Core, which in Greek sig­nifies the Apple of the Eye; doth also signifie a Virgin, to say that all Eye-balls generally are Virgins full of modesty; when as there is no place, wherein Impudence doth sooner appear than in the Eye; which makes Homer, when he would give the Character of an Im­pudent Fellow say, Thou Drunk­ard with thy Doggs Eyes. Tym­eus could not see this poor and weak thought in Zenophon, but as if it had onely belong'd to him, takes it, from that Au­thor; [Page 17] and thus applies it in his life of Agathocles It is not strange that he should Ravish his own Cousen who was just Married to another, is it not I say strange that he should Ravish her the very next day after her Wedding; for who could have done such a thing that had Virgins in his Eyes, and not immodest Women; But enough of such trash; now what think you of Plato, who (other­wise a most Divine Author) Spea­king of the Tables of Cypress-Wood, whereon the Laws were Written; said, When they had wrought all these things, they pla­ced the Monuments of Cypress in the Temples. And in another place he saith, as touching the Walls (Megillas. The Spartans had then no Wall.) I am of Opinion with the Spartans, to let them sleep and not raise 'em, so long as they [Page 18] are layne downe to rest. There is a very ridicilous passage in Herodotus, when he calls beauti­ful Women, the disease of the Eyes: but this is the more tollerable, in respect 'tis sup­posed to be spoken by a com­pany of Barbarians in the heat of their Debaucheries; yet for that these sort of People are of no great credit, 'tis not wise­ly done by the using an unde­cent expression, to run the ha­zard of displeasing future Ages.

CHAP. IV. Of the cause of a Faint Stile.

ALl these mean Childish af­fections proceed from a too great fondness of new [Page 19] thoughts, a very Epidemicall disease amongst the Writers of the present times; Certain it is, that good and bad do often come from the same source; therefore we see that the self same thing, which sometimes serves to adorne a piece, that I say the self same thing which often gives the grace and beau­ty to Elocution, does at other times work clear contrary ef­fects, as plainely may appeare by Hyperboles, and other Figures called Pluralls, but how dange­rous 'tis to use them, shall be shown elsewhere. Now then let us see, how we may avoid those Errors which seem slightly to pass for loftiness; and without doubt we shall arive at our in­tended purpose if we can obtain a clear and distinct knowledge, and learn to judge rightly there­of, [Page 20] which is no very easy thing; since that a true Judgment of distinguishing between the Ele­gancy and Weakness of Speech, must be the Product of a long practice, and consummated Stu­dy. But to proceed, I will now Chalk out a way, which per­haps may serve to lead thither.

CHAP. V. The means in general how to know loftiness.

WE cannot say, (dear Terentianus) that the things of this life are great, when there is a manifest great­ness in the very undervalu­ing and despising the same; such are riches, power, honour, Empire, and other like seeming blessings, glorious 'tis true in [Page 21] appearance, but such as can never pass with a discreet man for real and substantial good. Hence is it that we admire not so much those who do, as others who may, but out of a noble­ness of mind will not enjoy them. The same may be said of the works of Poets and Orators; and we ought to be very cau­tious, not to take a hideous noise, and jingling of words shuffled together, for Sublime Eloquence. For that which is truly Sublime, has this inse­parable quality, that it affects the Soul of him who hears it, and makes her conceive a better Opinion of her self, filling her with an unusual Joy, and a kind of a (I know not what) pride, as if she her self had been the Author of what she does but barely hear. When therefore, [Page 22] any thing is recyted to a Ju­dicious and understanding man, if after hearing it repeated several times, he does not find himself edifyed, or any impres­sion left upon his mind; but if on the other hand, after listning to it attentively, he still remains unmoved, or is rather dejected, we must believe, there is no­thing in it that is weighty or sublime, but that it is an empty sound, which strikes the ear, and reaches not the mind. 'Tis an infallible sign of a lofty Speech, when it sets our thoughts a working, and has that effect over us, which 'tis difficult, if not impossible to withstand, leaving behind a strong remem­brance and Idea of the things we have heard. In a word, you may conclude a piece to be Sublime, and Elegant, when [Page 23] there is a pleasing Symmetrie throughout. For when a great Assembly of men, of as different humors and inclinations, as age or profession, are equally touch'd with a Speech, that concurrence of opinions and joynt approba­tion, is an undoubted proof of the force and greatness there­of.

CHAP. VI. Of the five Sources or Heads of Loftiness.

THere are five principal Heads of Loftiness, but they all presuppose a good faculty of speaking, as a common foun­dation, without which they can­not stand. That therefore being suppos'd the first and most con­siderable [Page 24] is, a regular elevation of thought. As is already shewn in our remarks upon Xenophon. The second consists in being pathetical; by which is meant that Enthusiasm and Natural ve­hemency which touches and af­fects us. These two first, we owe chiefly to Nature, and have from our Cradles; whereas the two latter do partly depend upon Art. The third is nothing but figures diversly fashioned. And those are of two sorts, fi­gures in thoughts, and figures in words. The fourth shall be a staetliness of Expression. Which may be subdivided into two parts, (viz.) the choice of words and elegant figurative Phrases. The fifth and last (whence, pro­perly speaking, all greatness is derived, and which includes the other four) is the ordering and [Page 25] well placing of sentences accor­ding to their magnificence and dignity. Now then as to every one in particular; but by the way let me mind you, that Cecilius has forgot some of these, and amongst the rest, that of being Pathetical; which if he has done out of an Opini­on, that it always goes hand in hand with loftiness, and that both make but one, he is migh­tily deceived: Since there are some passions which are void of all greatness, as trouble, fear, and sorrow, and again many Sublime and lofty things, without any passion at all. As is that which Homer says of theThese were the Gyants, Odyss. l. 11. Aloydes;

Nay he goes yet further, ‘Sure they had done it too, &c.’ And in prose Panegyricks, and such sort of Speeches, made only for Ostentation, may be full of greatness and sublimity, tho' there be no passion. So that amongst Orators themselves, that which is most pathetical, is least fit for Panegyrick; and on the other hand, that which is most proper for Panegy­rick, is least able to affect the Passions. But if Celicius believes that the being Pathetical, does no ways contribute to loftiness, and therefore not worth men­tioning, he is as grosly mista­ken: for I dare be bold to say, [Page 27] there is nothing sets off speech, more than a genteel movement, and a passion well carried on. To be short, 'tis a kind of En­thusiasm, or divine rapture, which is the life and vigour of speech.

CHAP. VII. Of loftiness of Thought.

THough of the five things whereof we have spoken, the first and most material (viz. the Elevation of the fancy) be rather a gift of Heavens, than a qualification altogether to be acquired; yet ought we, as much as possible we can, to employ it daily about some­thing that is great. And be­cause it may be asked how this [Page 28] can be done? I have already shewed, That the Elevation of the fancy, is a perfect represen­tation of the greatness of the soul. Which makes us some­times admire the very thoughts of a man, tho' he says not a word: because of that presence of mind, which we discover in him. For Example, the silence of Ajax in Hell, in the Odysses; That silence declared something more noble and glo­rious,Lib 11. than all be could have said. The first good quality therefore requisite to a compleat Orator is, that his thoughts be not mean and humble: for is it possible that a man, whose thoughts are employed about base and servile matters, should ever be Author of any thing worthy to be committed to Posterity? No sure, that can [Page 29] only be expected from the exal­ted and lofty fancies of High-Spirited men. See for example, the Answer which Alexander made, when Darius proffered him half Asia in marriage with his Daughter. Were I Alexan­der (said Parmenio) I would ac­cept the offer, and so would I (reply'd the Prince) If I were Parmenio. Could any one but an Alexander have made such a reply 'tis in this that Homer is so excellent, whose thoughts are always sublime, as appears in his description of Eris, or the Goddess of strife, when he says, ‘Her head's in Heaven, and on Earth her feet.’

It may justly be said, that this large extent, is not so much [Page 30] the measure of that Goddess, as of the Capacity and height of Homer's fancy: far different from this, is that verse of Hesi­od's, in his Poem Intituled the Buckler (if it be true that he Wrote it) where speaking of the Goddess of Darkness, he saies, ‘A nasty Humor from her Nose Distill'd.’ Here instead of rendring this Goddess, as he ought to do, terrible, he makes her odious and lothsome: but observe what Majestie Homer gives to all his Gods, Iliad l. 5.

He measures the length of their leapes by the Vniverse, who then, at this strong Hy­perbole, will not naturally cry out; that if the Horses of the Gods would take a Second jump, they could not find room enough in the World, no less excellent are those Descrip­tions, which he makes of the Fight of the Gods. (viz.) Il. l. 21.

And in another place,

Behold (dear Terentianus) the Earth open'd to its Center Hell ready to appear, and all the Machine of the world unhing'd: to shew that in this Combate, Heaven, Hell, and all things, as well mortal, as immortal, were engaged; and that nature her self was in danger. But all these thoughts, are to be taken in an Allegoricall sence, otherwise are they Atheisticall, and un­becoming the Majesty of the Gods. And, for my part, when I read in Homer, of the wounds, Punishments, Teares, and Im­prisonment of Gods, with such like accidents which continual­ly befall them; I cannot but [Page 33] think, that he endeavour'd no­thing more than to make his men at the Seige of Troy Gods, and the Gods themselves, men; Nay he has made their Con­dition the worst of the two; for when we are unhappy, Death, at least, will put an end to our afflictions; but as for the Gods, he makes them not so much im­mortal, as eternally miserable, much better success has he, when he describes a God in his full brightness and Majesty, and not sullied with earthly con­cerns: as may apear, in that most remarkable place, where speak­ing of Neptune, he saies, Il. l. 13.

[Page 34]And he goes on,

So that incomparable Law-giver of the Jews, having a strong notion of the greatness and power of God, has, in the be­ginning of his Book, these words; God said, let there be light, and there was light, &c. let there be a firmament, and there was a firmament, &c. It may not perhaps be unpleasant to you (dear Terentianus) if I shou'd quote another passage [Page 35] out of the same Poet; where­by you may judge how Heroick he himself appears, in writing the Character of a Heroe. A general darkness was spread over all the Grecian Camp, which prevented 'em from in­gaging: at this Ajax being at a stand cries out in a rage, Il. l. 17.

This is like such a blunt Warrier as Ajax was, he does not begg for life, that were a thing too mean for a Heroe; But wanting an opportunity to signalize his valour by reason of the Dark­ness, which hindred him from fighting: He calls out, in a passi­on, [Page 36] for Day-Light, that he might fall, like himself, in grapling with Jupiter. Here our Author en­forces his thoughts with such a vehement fury, as if he himself were enraged. Il. l. 15.

But I must desire you, for seve­ral reasons, to observe how flat he grows in his Odysses. Where­by you will find. that when a great genius begins to decline, it becomes delighted with fables and stories. For to prove that his Odysses were composed after [Page 37] his Iliads, I can bring many in­stances. And first, how many thoughts are there in the Odysses; which, without doubt, are but the continuation of se­veral misfortunes mentioned in the Iliads, and set down in this last piece as so many effects of the Trojan war. And besides many accidents in the Iliads are bewayl'd by the Heroes of the Odysses, as disasters well known and of a long date. The Odys­ses ought therefore properly to be called the Epilogue to the Iliads

[Page 38] Now then I am of opinion, that the Iliads, which Homer wrote when his fancy was at the high­est, are full of life and action: Whereas for the most part, the Odysses consist of tedious spee­ches and relations, the certain symptoms of a feeble and de­cayed fancy. So that in respect of this last, I can only compare him to the seting Sun, which still retains the same splendor, but abates of its heat. To be short, It has not that Harmony or loftiness which is so delicate­ly spread throughout the whole Iliads; it wants that variety of passionate and fine thoughts, so curiously heap'd one upon ano­ther. You will not find the same force, and (if I may so say) fluency of language, and live­lyness of description. It may be called the ebb of his sancy, [Page 39] which, like the unconstant Ocean, sometimes shrinks up and forsakes its Banks. At every turn he deviats into ficti­ons, and most incredible fables. Not but that his descriptions of Tempests, Ʋlysses's adventures with Polyphemus, and some few more, are very excellent. Yet after all, though this weak­ness be in Homer, 'tis still Ho­mer's weakness. I have been the longer upon this matter to let you see, (as I have already said) That a lofty and manly Genius, when once the heat of natural parts abates, does now and then dwindle into meer dotage, and fooleries: amongst which may be reckon'd that of Aeolus's shutting up the Winds; and Ʋlysses Companions Metamor­phos'd into Swine. Whom Zoilus pleasantly calls little weeping [Page 40] Piggs. Such another is that of Doves feeding Jupiter like a young Pigeon, or Ʋlysses's Po­verty, Who liv'd ten days after his Shipwrack without eating: and those absurd fictions of the murther of Penelope's wooers. For the most that can be said in the commendation of such Chimeras is, that they are witty and pleasant inventions. Or if you will, you may call them the dreams of Jupiter. That which made me speak of the Odysses, was to shew you, that great Poets, and other fa­mous writers, wanting strength and vigour to be pathetical, grow dull and insipid. Hence is it, that when Homer describes how Penelope's suiters liv'd in Ʋlisses's house, the whole de­scription is a sort of Comedy, wherein the characters of so [Page 41] many different persons are drawn.

CHAP. VIII. Of Loftiness drawn from Cir­cumstances.

NOw let us consider what other means may be found out to advance Lofti­ness. Certain it is, that nothing happpens in this World, which is not attended by some certain Circumstances; a choice there­fore of the most considerble, drawn together into a well-proportion'd body, will be of no little advantage; which is the reason, that when Sapho would express the disorders of Love, she calls to mind all the accidents which are either [Page 42] inherent, or consequential to this Passion, but singles out such chiefly, as declare the exces­sive violence thereof

Don't you wonder how she brings together all these diffe­rent things, the Soul, Body, Speech, Looks, &c. as if they had been so many distinct persons just expiring? Observe how strangely she is toss'd too and fro; now she freezes, then she burns; now is out of her wits, then again grows sober; now at the very point of death: In a word, her Soul does not so much seem the seat of one single Passion, as the general Ren­dezvouze [Page 44] of all; and so is it with all those who love. By this it may appear, how much a fit application of choice Cir­cumstances tends to the orna­ment of Speech. Thus Homer, when he would describe a Storm, takes care not to omit any one frightful accident. The Author of the Poem concern­ing theA People of Scythia. Arimaspians thought to be wonder­ful lofty, when he said,

What man cannot perceive, that this is rather the flourish­ing of a weak Pencil, than the true paint of an Artist? Let's see then what Homer says, and par­ticularly in this place.

Aratus has endeavoured to inhance this last Verse, in say­ing, ‘A little slender Plank has sav'd their lives.’ But instead of improving the thought, he has made it flat and little, which was before very terrible, and thinking to sum up all that can be said to ex­press danger in these words, ‘(A little slender Plank has sav'd their lives)’ [Page 47] he has rather impaired than added to the thought. Homer does not make the Sailors once onely in danger of being drown'd, but draws 'em sub­ject to the rage of every threat­ning wave. And I see, methinks, in his expressions the very Pi­cture of a Tempest. Archilocus took the same measures in his description of a Shipwrack, as likewise did Demosthenes, where he speaks of the confusi­on the Athenians were in at the newi of Helice's being taken: these are his words, This Speech is so long, that our Author has thought [...]o omit it. It was now very late, &c. Both these have been very di­ligent to make choice of the best and most pertinent circumstances, and avoid nothing more, than the inserting superfluous and pe­dantick [Page 48] particulars, which must necessarily spoil all, and are like Morter and Rubbish any way heap'd together to raise a Foundation.

CHAP. IX. Of Amplification.

AMongst those things that conduce to the Loftiness and Excellency of Speech, we may very well reckon Ampli­fication. For when the nature of the Subject we treat of, or any other matter we debate, requires large and full Periods, consisting of many Sentences, we may so draw 'em out, that they shall enforce one another, and mount gradually to a just heighth of Greatness; and this [Page 49] serves either to spin out a Speech, to explain and streng­then any Action, or to carry on and methodize a Passion. So that Amplification may be di­vided into many parts, but it is to be premis'd, that no one of 'em can be compleat without Loftiness. Unless when we would undervalue and speak slightingly of any thing, or en­deavour to move pity. In all other cases, if we strip Ampli­fication of what ever is great and lofty, we take away its very essence; and, in a word, when once it wants that prop to lean upon, it grows weak and tottering. Now then, for better distinction, we will shew the difference between this, and that which we, have lately mentioned in the precedent Chapter, and which (as I have [Page 50] already observed) is nothing but a Collection of choice Cir­cumstances, to the end we may see whether Amplification in general differs from Loftiness.

CHAP. X. What Amplification is.

I Cannot by any means hear­ken to some men, who define Amplification to be, A certain Speech which greatens and en­largeth the Subject matter. This Definition may as well agree with the being Lofty, Patheti­cal, or Figurative; all which give the stamp of Greatness to what ever they treat of: Yet are they very much unlike. And first, Loftiness consists in the Nobleness, but Amplification [Page 51] in the Plenty of Words. The first may oftentimes be found in a single thought, whereas the latter depends wholly upon the abundancy of expression, and thus therefore to be de­fined. Amplification is a mul­tiplying of Words, drawn from the particular Circumstances and Heads of the matter in hand, to enlarge the Speech, and confirm what we have before said. And herein Argument and Amplifi­cation differ; that the one is made use of to prove that point, which th'other doth but stretch out and augment.In this place our Author is very de­fective, &c. The same difference of Loftiness in my mind is there be­tween Demosthenes and Cicero, as far as we Greeks are able to judge of a Latin Author; for Demosthenes's ex­cellence [Page 52] lies in being concise and pithy; Cicero's, on the other hand, in being very co­pious. The Grecian, by reason of that violence and fierceness, wherewith he rages through­out, may be liken'd to a Whirl-wind or Thunder-bolt, and the Roman to a Confia­gration, that shoots its head up into the air, and disperses its flames round about, which work different effects accor­ding to the diversity of Places, yet prey upon, and feed them­selves with all manner of things they can reach. But of this, you are best able to judge. I confess, Demosthenes his Lof­tiness, and vehemency of ex­pression, is much the fittest to surprize and storm; but a va­riety, doubtless, (if I may so say) is that which casts a dew [Page 53] over the minds of the Audi­ence, and is proper in Com­mon Places, Digressions, Per­orations, and what-ever is in genere demonstrativo, (that is) demonstrative; as likewise in History, Treatises of Natural Philosophy, and many more such like pieces.

CHAP. XI. Of Imitation.

TO return to the matter in hand, Plato's stile, tho soft and easy, is never the less Majestical; which, if you have ever read his Politiques, you must needs acknowledg. These unhappy men (says he) who know not what 'tis to be Wise, or Virtuous, but spend their time in Revelling and Feasting, grow daily worse and worse, and are out of the way all their life time; Virtue has no attractive Charmes over them, they never open their Eyes to look after her, nor in­deed do they ever tast of any true and sollid pleasure; but like Beasts with their looks fixt al­wayes [Page 55] on the Earth; they think of nothing else, then eating, drink­ing, and satisfying their brutall appetites, and in the heat of their riotting, they quarrel and fight with one another, till in the end they perish by their insatiable glut­tony. This Philosopher has point­ed out another way (if we will follow it) which leads to lof­tiness, and what is it? 'tis the imitation and emulation of fa­mous Poets and other Writters, who have gone before us; and this is the mark we ought daily to level at: for some there are, who seem to be carried away with a Divine Inspiration, as 'tis said Pythia Apollo's Preistess was, when placed upon the Tripo [...]s, or Golden Table in the Temple; under which (they tell us) there is a certain Gap in the Earth, through which is breath­ed [Page 56] a Vaporous and Celestial air, filling her with Divine in­stinct, whereby she declares the Oracles. So the most remark­able excellencies in the writings of ancient Authors, are as so many Sources, whence a Divine greatness arises, and overflows the Soules of all their imitators; animating them with a more then natural heat; till they become transported with the extacie of others. Therefore we see, how much Herodotus, and (before him) Stefichorus and Arthilocus strove to imitate Homer, but none of them comes so near as Plato, for he has drain'd whole Rivulets out of that Fountain, and turn'd them into his own Channel. Whereof I could give many instances, had not Amoni­as afforded enough already; yet after all, we ought not to look [Page 57] upon this as a Theft, but a de­licate form, which he himself has moulded out of the Substance of anothers inventions. And in my opinion, throughout his whole Body of Philosophy, he never says so fine things, as when he digresses into Poetical expressi­ons; and like a daring Rivall, disputes the Prize with Homer himself, who has from all ages been the allowed Champion of the World. And though per­haps he may seem to do it with too much heat; and, as we say fire and Sword, yet that hurts not, since according to Hesiod, ‘A noble envy do's avail Man­kind.’ And is it not a commendable thing, and worthy of a gene­rous Soul, to contend for Ho­nour [Page 58] and Victory with our Pre­decessors? especially when to be vanquished is no discredit.

CHAP. XII. Of the way of imitation.

WHen ever we undertake any thing that ought to be great and lofty, 'tis very necessary we should reflect and consider with our selves, what Homer would have said on the like occasion. Or if it be Histo­ry, what way Plato, Demosthe­nes, or Thucydides would have taken, that we may follow the same; for such great men being set before our eyes to be cop­pied, do often raise our fancies to as great a height, as the Idea which we conceive of their [Page 59] Genius: But above all, we ought thus to argue with our selves, how would Homer or Demosthenes approve of this, if they heard it; or what would they say of me? 'Twill certainly be very advantagious to us, if we seriously fancy to our selves that we are giving an Account of our writings, at the high Tribunal, or on the publique Theatre, where we have such Learned Judges for our audi­ence. But there is yet a stron­ger motive to excite us to this self-examination, and that is, to consider what after ages will say of our writings. For if a man grows so jealous of him­self, as to think his works will not survive him, his fancy can produce nothing but what is shapeless and abortive; nor will he take pains in that, which he [Page 60] he never expects should be long liv'd.

CHAP. XIII. Of Fancies.

FAncies (and as others call 'em) Conceits or Fictions, do very much contribute to the magnificence or vigour of speech. This word Fancy, in general is taken for any no­tion or conception, any how representing a thing to the mind, able to beget expression; but in a more particular and strict sence, for that which we say, when by an Euthusiasm or other such like extraordinary notion, we seem to see the things we speak of, and set 'em before the eyes of those who [Page 61] hear us. I need not tell you that Fancies in Rhetorick, are different from those in Poetry. For that in verse they are used to astonish and surprise, but in prose to manifest and convince. Yet in this they agree, that both are moving.

And in another place; ‘Where shall I goe, shee comes, she's there, I die:’ [Page 62] Here the Poet did not see the Furies, but he gives so lively a representation of them, that he almost makes his Auditors be­lieve they do: and though I cannot well say how good his Tallent is in expressing the other passions, yet in those two of Love and Fury (which are his Master-piece) he is very ex­cellent; not but that he has a bold stroke in many other things. For notwithstanding his fancy is not naturally high, yet in weighty subjects, he scrues it up to a Tragical great­ness; not unjustly therefore, may we say that of him, which the Poet do's of the Lyon.

Now for a proof of what we have said, let us have recourse to that place, where the Sun be­ing about to deliver the reins of his Horses into Phaeton's hand, gives the young Chario­teer these directions.

And going on,

Who would not say, that the very soul of the Poet, mounted in the Coach-box with Phaeton, partook of all his dangers, and flew in the Air with the Horses; for how otherwise is it possible he could have described it so [Page 65] lively. Not unlike to this is that of Cassandra, ‘But O brave Trojans, &c.’ Aeschylus too, has for the most part a Noble and Heroical fancy, as may appear in his Tragedy, intituled the Seven be­fore Thebes. When a Courier bringing Eteocles the news of those seven Captains, that made a joynt and solemn Oath to kill themselves, do's thus deliver his Message.

[Page 66]But when this Poet, do's too much force himself to rise, he often falls into harsh and un­couth expressions, as also does Euripides. For example in Aeschylus, the Pallace of Ly­churgus falls into a rage at the sight of Bacchus.

Euripides hath made use of this very thought, though in ano­ther way, and somewhat sof­tened.

How excellent Sophocles is in his descriptions, let that wit­tness which he hath given us of Oedipus's dying, and bury­ing [Page 67] himself in a most prodigi­ous Tempest. As likewise that other of Achilles's apparition on his Tomb, when the Grecians were weighing Anchor. Yet as to this last, I question whether any one hath out done Symon­ides. But 'twere an endless, and almost impossible thing, to in­stance in every particular ex­ample that is to this purpose, To return therefore to what we were saying; Fancies in Poetry are generally full of fabulous and incredible accidents: whereas in Rhetorick, they are then most commendable, when they represent a thing as in it self it is; and make the truth thereof most perspicuous. For a Poetical and fabulous inven­tion in prose, causes imperti­nent digressions, and conse­quently becomes very absurd. [Page 68] Yet nevertheless 'tis that which the Orators of these present times are passionately enamou­red with. Who thinking there­by to be accounted great, talk of the furies with as much heat as any Tragedian of 'em all. Not considering, that when Orestes says in Euripides.

'Tis his madness that makes him imagine all this. What then is the effect of fancies in Rheto­rick? 'tis that (besides several other properties) they beautifie and enliven: so that being arti­ficially interwoven with argu­ments, they do not perswade only, but overcome and com­mand the audience.

[Page 69] If (says a certain Orator) there should be a great noise at the Sessions house, and strait one coms and says the Prisoners have broak Goal; there is no one old man, though never so decripid, or young man, though never so careless, but what will endeavour to apprehend 'em again; and if at that Juncture of time, they shou'd be shew'd the Author of that disturbance, alas poor wretch! he must expect to have his brains beat out by the rabble, before he can be heard to make any de­fence.

Hyperides in that Speech, wherein he gave an account of the order he had caus'd to be made, after the defeat at Chi­ronea, for the delivery of the Prisoners; took this way. 'Tis not (says he) an Orator which en­acted this Law, but the Battle and [Page 70] defeat at Chironea. At the same time that he gave reasons for what he said, he made use of a delicate fancy, wherewith he did more then perswade: for it being natural to us to mind that most which makes the greatest shew; our thoughts are taken up with a pleasing fancy, which coming in at the middle of the Argu­ment, does divert us from a seri­ous examination of the force and weight thereof. Nor ought we to wonder at it, since expe­rience teaches us, that when two things are mixt together, that which is of the greatest, draws to it self the force and virtue of the other. But enough of this sort of loftiness which consists in the thoughts, and (as I have already said) proceeds either from the greatness of the Soul, Imitation, or Fancy.

CHAP. XIV. Of Figures, and chiefly that called Apostrophe.

NOw according to our Me­thod, we come to speak of Figures, for (as I have al­ready said) they are no small constituent part of loftiness, if rightly managed. But 'twill require a long, if not infinite deal of time, to take an exact view of every Figure that is proper in Speech. Wherefore it shall be sufficient for us, to touch upon the most principle, and most immediately requisite to the perfection of Loftiness. Demosthenes would justifie his conduct, and prove to the Athenians, that they did not [Page 72] amiss in giving Battle to Philip. What in that case had been the direct way? You have not done amiss, Sirs, (he might have said) in hazarding your lives for the liberty and safety of Greece, and of this we have Do­mesticall, and undeniable ex­amples, for we cannot say those men have been too blame, who fought for the same cause, upon the plains of Marathon, at Sallamis, or before Plateae. This he might have said, but he has taken a clear different way; and of a sudden (as if inspired by some God, or possest with the Soul of Apollo himself) he swears by those valliant Defenders of Greece, no Sirs no! You have not done amiss; I swear by all the Ghosts of those brave Men, who dyed Fighting for the same Cause upon the Plains of Mara­thon, &c.

[Page 73]Thus by this Oath, (which I here call Apostrophe) he dei­sies those ancients; and conse­quently shewes, that all who die in the like Cause, are to be esteem'd as so many Gods, by whom we ought to Swear. Here instead of a natural way of arguing, making use of this strong, and pathetical manner of affirming by Oathes, so ex­traordinary, new, and withall credible; he infuses into his Judges, the very minds of those Illustrious Men that died, as an Antidote to expel all the venom of their own; here, by his commendations, he per­swades them to think, they ought to be as proud of the Battel they lost against Philip, as those Victories which they got at Marathon and Sallamis; and by all these different means, [Page 74] drawn into one single Figure, he prevailes with them to be of his Opinion. Yet some per­haps will pretend; that Eupolis is the first who taught this way, when he saies,

But to swear down-right, is not to be commended, or account­ed great; we ought to consider how, where, upon what occa­sion, and to what purpose we do it. So then, that of this Poet, who spoke to the Athe­nians, at that time happy, and not needing to be comforted, is nothing but a bare Oath: be­sides, he do's not swear by such great and Immortal men as De­mosthenes [Page 75] do's, nor endeavour with him to kindle in the brests of the Athenians, thoughts worthy the bravery of their Ancestors; seeing that instead of Swearing by the names of those who Fought, he Swears by the Fight it self; a thing altogether inanimate. On the contrary, the Oath in Demo­sthenes, was to Encourage the Athenians, who were just be­fore beaten, that from hence­forward, they should not look upon the loss of the Battel at Chironea, to be any misfortune. So that (as is already said) he proves to them by reason that they have not done ill, he gives them an example, confirms them by Oathes, commends them, excites them to a War against Phillip, and all this with one single Figure. But for that it [Page 76] might be thus objected to our Orator; you speak of a Battel lost against Phillip, while you mannaged the Affairs of the Common Wealth, and at the same time, Swear by the Vict­ory our Ancestors have won. He has therefore taken great care to regulate his Expressions, and make use of such only as are most necessary for his pur­pose; to shew, that upon all occasions, though never so trans­porting we ought to carry our selves with equal sobriety and deliberation. Wherefore when he Speaks of the Fight their Ancestors had by Land at Mar­athon, by Sea at Salamis, and those other near Artemis and Plateae, he forbears to say, how Victorious they were; pas­sing by the happy events of those Battels, as well as the [Page 77] unhappy success of that at Chi­ronea; and to prevent all Ob­jections, he sayes, those O Aes­chynes whom we have lost in this Engagement are as much to be called the Defenders of their Country, as those whom fortune has made Victorious.

CHAP. XV. That Figures ought necessarily to be lofty.

WE must not forget, that as Figures do natural­ly contribute to the perfection of Loftiness, so on the other hand does Loftiness to that of Figures; but how, and where­in, that we are now to shew. In the first place, most certain [Page 78] it is, that the use of Figures apart, and by themselves, cre­ates a jealousie in the audience, of some trick or fallacy, especi­ally when we are to speak be­fore any Chief Magistrate; and above all, an Emperour, a King, or a Great General of an Ar­my; for such an one is imme­diately incensed, and will not suffer himself, like a little Child, to be put upon by the gross cheats of a pedantick and crafty Rhetorician; but look­ing upon the whole Speech to be a meer subtilty, (though now and then he listens to, and is perhaps pleas'd with the quaintness thereof) he retains a firm resolution to give no credit to what is said. Where­fore that is the most excellent which is so disguis'd, as not to be known to be a Figure; and [Page 79] there is nothing can effect this better, than the being Lofty and Pathetical; because, when wrapt in something that is great and wonderful, it has what was before wanting, and is no longer suspected of de­ceit. An example whereof is that which I have lately men­tion'd, I swear by the Ghosts of those great Men, &c. How has our Author concealed this Fi­gure? Do not we plainly see, 'tis by the very brightness of his thoughts? For as all lesser Lights disappear when the Sun shines out, so do the Subtilties in Rhetorick when surrounded by a dazling Greatness; and as when parallel Lines are drawn upon a Plain, with the same Colours and Shade, a re­flection of Light (caused by that Shadow which the Piece [Page 80] casts) is that which first appears to the Eye: So the being Pa­thetical and Lofty by a natural sympathy which they have with the Affections of the Soul, or by reason of their Lustre, move us much more than those Figures which appear naked, and without any Art.

CHAP. XVI. Of Interrogations.

WHat shall I say of Quest­ions and Interrogations; for who can deny, but that they add much to the grace and vigour of Speech? Will you ne­ver do any thing else (saies De­mosthenes to the Athenians) then ramble all over the Town, [Page 81] to enquire after one another? What newes is there? Why, what greater newes can there be, then that a Macedonian makes him­self Master of Athens, and gives Laws to all Greece? Is Phillip Dead, saies one? No, saies a­nother, he is only Sick. What I'd fain know, is it to you, whe­ther he be Sick or Dead? When Heaven has set you at liberty, you will soon find another Phillip. And in another place, Let us Embarque for Macedonia; where shall wee Land sayes one? the War it self, Sirs, will shew where Phillip is weakest and ea­siest to be Conquered. If this had been spoken in an ordinary way, t'would not have answer'd the weight of his Subject. Whereas by asking the question, and answering it himself, as if 'twere some other person, he does [Page 82] not only make that which he sayes stronger and more con­siderable, but at the same time probable; for the being pa­thetical never suceeds better, then when the Orator seems not to hunt after it, but that 'tis naturally incident to the thing it self; and nothing re­sembles this more then such kind of Questions and Answers▪ for they that are askt a question of any thing, whereof they know the truth, find a suddain motion within themseives which makes them eager to answer; so that by this Figure the audi­ence is cunningly wheedled to believe, that which is most me­ditated, to be ex tempore and spoken in a heate.Here our Au­thor is very de­fective. There is nothing that gives a greater quickness to Speech then to [Page 83] remove the Copulatives, for when the sentences do not hang one upon another, they run swiftly on of themselves; nay without great care, swifter then the very thoughts of the Or­ator. Having clinch't Bucklers (saies Xenophon) they gave back, Fought, slew, and dyed together. So it is of that, which Euryllochus saies to Ʋlisses in Homer.

These Periods cut off and pro­nounced in haste, are the true signes of a lively grief, which [Page 84] choaking up the passage, hin­ders the smoothness of the ut­terance. Thus Homer knew how and when to take away con­nexion.

CHAP. XVII. Of the uniting of Figures.

YEt after all, there is nothing of greater force in Elo­quence, then a well uniting and contracting of many figures to­gether. For thereby they be­come sociable, and partake of each others strength and Orna­ment, as may be seen by this passage, in the speech which Demosthenes made against Mi­das. Where, without any con­nexion at all, he has made use of these two figures, Anaphora, [Page 85] and Diatiposis, (that is) a Re­pitition, and description. For every man (says he] that injures another, does many things, by the behaviour, eyes, or voice, which he who has been injur'd, cannot well remember. And least in the end his speech should slacken, knowing that Order, and Method, is most suitable to a settled and deliberate mind; And on the contrary, that dis­order and confusion, is the best Argument of Passion, Which is it self nothing but a disorder and confusion of the soul; he goes on as before; One while he beats him like an Enemy, another while insults over him, now with his fist, then with his looks. By such violent expres­sions, so heapt one upon ano­ther, our Orator makes his Judges as much concern'd as if [Page 86] they shou'd see the man striking in their presence. He rallies up again, and taking breath, pours in like a Tempest. These affronts provoke, these affronts are insup­portable to a stout man not us'd to bear them, 'tis not to be imagin'd how hainous an offence it is. By this continual change, he car­ries on throughout the Chara­cter of these blustring figures. So that there is a disorder in his method, and a method in his disorder. Now then let us put Conjunctions to this passage, as Isocrates's Scholars do. And certainly it must not be forgott, that he who injures another, does many things, first by the behavi­our, afterwards by the Eyes, and lastly by the voice it self, &c. Here in making all these of an equal force and proportion, while we cement 'em to each [Page 87] other, we make that which be­fore had a pathetical strength and violence, to become a slight and flashy niceness of language, which is of no substance, but presently goes out of it self. And as if the Body of a man who is to run be bound, be loses his speed; So if we bind the pas­sion with useless Copulatives, we take away that swiftness and violence, which otherwise it wou'd have.

CHAP. XVIII. Of Hyperbat's.

AMongst other things we must not forget Hyper­bat's. An Hyperbate is nothing but a Transposition of thoughts or words from the Grammatical or­der.

[Page 88]This figure gives a true chara­cter of a violent and strong pas­sion. Thus we see those who are extreamly moved with an­ger, fear, indignation, jealousie, or any other of the passions, (too many to be reckon'd up) are in a continual distraction: no sooner have they thought of one thing, but another does im­mediatly succeed it; and e're they have half finished the first, they run headlong to the se­cond; till finding that does not please 'em, they again return to the first. This passion of theirs, like a fickle wind, hurries 'em now one way, then another; and by reason of this perpetual Ebb and flow of contrarieties, they stagger in their thoughts every moment, and neglect all manner of form and method. The ablest writers, in intimati­on [Page 89] of these suddain motions of nature, make use of Hyperbat's and to say true, the perfection of Art is to resemble, and pass for Nature her self; as on the other hand, nature never succeeds better, then when she conceals art in her bosom. An example of this, is that in Herodotus, which Dionysius Phocensis says to the Ionians. In fine, our affairs are come to the last push Sirs, so that we must necessarily either be free men or slaves, I and miserable slaves: To prevent therefore, the thick storm which hangs threat­ning over your heads, you must instantly bestir your selves, and purchase your liberty with the de­feat of your Enemies. Now, to have followed the natural way, he shou'd have said, Sirs, 'tis high time we shou'd now think of be stir­ing our selves, when our afairs [Page 90] are come to the last push, &c. First then he transposes this word, Sirs, and does not insert it till he had given 'em a hint of his fearful apprehension; as if the greatness of the danger, had made him forget that usual ce­remony, wherewith we ought to address our selves to those before whom we are speaking. Afterwards he inverts the order of his conceptions; for before he comes to the main point (which is to exhort 'em to bestir themselves) he gives the reason which ought to induce 'em thereunto: In fine, our affairs are brought to the last extremity. And this he does that they may think what he says is not stu­died, but proceeding from the very force of his great concern for them. Thucydides is very re­markable in his Hyperbat's, for [Page 91] he does most admirably trans­pose those things which seem to have a natural dependance one upon another, and altogether inseparable. As for Demosthenes, tho' in all other points he is more reserv'd then Thucydides, yet in this he is not, for no one ever took greater delight in Hyperbat's than he, who out of a desire to have whatever he says, seem as if spoken upon the nick of time, leads his audi­ence through the dangerous la­byrinths of long transpositions. Many times therefore, breaking off abruptly in the middle of his Speech, as if he affected dis­order and confusion, and inter­posing several things no ways material to the matter in hand, he startles his Auditors; who supposing the strength of his Arguments to be just spent, are [Page 92] themselves concerned at the danger they fancy him in; when of a suddain, and unex­pectedly, wheeling about, and falling upon that which was so long suspended, by this transpo­sition as equaly useful as dange­rous, he prevails more then if he had observ'd an exact me­thod throughout, but of this there are so many many exam­pels, that I shall forbear to in­stance in any.

CHAP. XIX. Of the alteration of the number.

WHatsoever has been said of the foregoing Fi­gures, as much may be said of Polyptotes, or diversities of Cases, [Page 93] Collections, alterations, Grada­tions, and such like, which be­ing strong and vehement, are consequently very usefull to the Ornament of Speech; and more especially to that of being Lofty and patheticall. What shall I say of the alteration of Cases, Tenses, Persons, Number, and Genders? For who does not plainly see: how necessary they are to vary and revive an ex­pression. Now then, for an ex­pression of the alteration of the number, let us take those Sing­ulars, which have the Termi­nation of Singulars, but when rightly examined, the force and Virtue of Plurals; Straitwayes a multitude of People running to the Port, made the shore eccho to their shouts. These singulars are the more remarkable, for that sometimes there is nothing [Page 94] so stately as plurals; that mul­titude and number which they contain, giving them a delicate sound and Emphasis. Such are these Plurals in Sophocles con­cerning Oedipus

All these different names de­not only one individuall person, that is Oedipus on one part, and his Mother Jocasta on the other, [Page 95] but this number so divided and multiplyed into different plu­rals, do's seem insome measure to multiply the misfortune of Oedipus. 'Tis by a such like plec­nasm, that a certain Poet said.

The same may be said of the passage in Plato to the Athe­nians, which I have elsewhere taken notice of, There are no Polips's, no (admus's, no Aegyp­tus's, no Danaus's, or other Bar­barians that live amongst us. We are Greeks far from the Traf­fick and conversation of Forraign Nations, &c. Now then all these plurals, so pil'd one upon another, give us a much greater Idea of the things they repre­sent. Yet must we be very cau­tious [Page 96] not to use them in all Ca­ses, but then only when we are to amplifie, multiply, or be Pa­theticall; that is in short, when the Subject is capable of any one or more of these, for al­wayes to be tinckling these Cymbals, savours too much of Sophistry.

CHAP. XX. Of Plurals reduc'd into Singu­lars.

PLurals on the other hand may be reduc'd into Sin­gulars, and then they carry something in them which is great and lofty. All Peloponesus (saies Demosthenes) was divi­ded into factions, and so of that [Page 97] passage in Herodotus, Phryna­cus's Tragedy of the taking of Mi­letus, being acted, all the Thea­tre wept. For when many things are contracted into one, they render the Expression more sub­stantiall and sinewey. Yet the effects of both these distinct Figures, do proceed generally from one and the same cause. So that whether Singulars di­vided into Plurals, do make many things of one, or Plurals contracted into Singulars, one of many, they are no small in­gredient to the being pathe­tical.

CHAP. XXI. Of the alteration of the Tense.

THe same may be said of the alteration of the Tense, which is, when we speak of a thing past, as if 'twere now present, whereby that which we say, is not so much a Narra­tion, as representation of a thing in being. A Souldier (saies Xe­nephon) falling under Cyrus his Horse, and being trampled upon, runs the Horse thorow the Belly with his Sword, the Horse at the smart of the Wound grows restie and throws his Rider; Cyrus falls.

You'l meet with this Figure very often in Thucydides.

CHAP. XXII. Of the alteration of the Persons:

OF the same efficacy is the alteration of the Persons: for it oftentimes makes the audience fancy themselvs engaged in the middle of the danger they hear of.

And in Aratus, ‘[Page 100]Forbear to trust the Seas this dangerous Month.’ So in Herodotus, when you are out of Elephantine (says this Histoiran) at the upper end of the Town, you'l come to a Hill, &c. From thence you'l descend into a Plain; when you have crost that, you may embarque again, and in twelve days you will come to a great city called Meroe. See here (dear Terentianus) how he takes your mind along with him, and leads it through all these several countries, which you rather see than hear of. This if judiciously done, obliges the audience to listen earnestly to the present business; especi­ally if the address be made to one particular person, and not many in general.

For one that is alarm'd with such Apostraphes, which seem to be directed to him in par­ticular, fancies himself more im­mediatly concern'd, and is con­sequently the more attentive.

CHAP. XXIII. Of Suddain Transitions.

IT often happens, that a Poet, or any other writer, speak­ing of any one, does unexpe­ctedly slip in himself, and per­sonate the party he is speaking of. And this figure shews the vehemency of Passion.

Here the Poet reserves the nar­ration as a thing most proper for himself, but of a sudden puts the threatning oath into the mouth of the hot boysterous Warriour: for had he inserted this, or the like clause, Hector then said so or so. The whole speech had fainted, whereas by this quick transition, he antici­pates [Page 103] the Reader, who finds it made before he is aware. The use therefore of this figure, is never so good, as when the ur­gency of the time and opportu­nity given, will not admit of a Demur, but hurries the wri­ter away from one person to another: As 'tis in Hecataeus. The Herauld, having throughly consider'd the consequence of all things, commands the family of the Heraclidae to depart: 'tis not in my power to help you any fur­ther, you are lost, and will short­ly force me to betake my self to some other Countrey. Demost­henes in his speech against Ari­stogiton, uses this figure in a different way, but withall, ex­treamly pathetical. There is not one amongst you (saith he) that is concern'd to see an impu­dent, scandalous fellow, violate [Page 104] the most sacred laws; a Villain, I say, who, — Oh! thou worst of men, nothing can withstand thy unbridl'd boldness; I say nothing of breaking open doors, or grates, others may do that as well as you, &c. Here, just upon the point of one word, his anger distracts him between two dif­ferent persons, and makes him leave his thoughts imperfect. Who—Oh! thou worst of men. Then turning unawares that part of the speech, which he seem'd to have done with, upon Aristogiton; he made a much greater impression upon the minds of the audience. So is it of Penelope's behaviour in Homer, when she saw an Herald coming to her from her wooers.

CHAP. XXIV. Of Paraphrase.

I Do not believe any body can doubt, whether Pa­raphrase be of great use in lof­tiness. [Page 106] For as in Musick all Harmony is made by the agree­ment of different Notes; so Paraphrase by a circumlocuti­on, wherein every part is con­sonant to the whole, does be­get a delicate Harmony in speech; especially if there be no Bombaste nor jarring, but a pleasing Symmetrie throughout. Of this Plato has given us a most excellent ex­ample, in the beginning of his Funeral Oration. In fine (says he) we have performed the last rites which are due to them: and those being past, they immediately arrive at the end of this fatal Journey; gloriously set out by those high solemnities wherewith the whole Town, and more par­ticularly their own Relations, have conducted 'em out of this world. First he calls death a fa­tal [Page 107] Journey: And afterwards interprets the funeral Obsequies to be a solemn Pomp made pur­posely to attend 'em at their departure out of this life. Shall we then say, that all this served but to enlarge upon, or raise the thought? no; let us rather affirm, that by this curious Pa­raphrase, he has out of one single word made a most Har­monious Consort. So Xenophon, You look upon labour as the only path that leads to a happy and pleasant life; and you have at­tained to that which is most ne­cessary, and commendable in war­like men which is to be delighted with nothing so much as renown. instead of saying you are very la­borious, he uses this circumlo­cution, you look upon labour as the path that leads to a happy and pleasant life. So that by stretch­ing [Page 108] out, and enlarging upon every clause, he adds at once both to the excess of his own thoughts, and their com­mendation. This Paraphrase in Herodotus is in my mind most incomparable. The God­dess Venus to punish the insolence of the Scythians, who had pil­laged her Temple, sent amongst 'em the Female Hemorrhoides disease. Now then there is no­thing of greater use than Pa­raphrase, provided it spread not beyond the bounds of reason and modesty; for then it grows dull and childishly troublesom. And therefore Plato, who is always figurative in his Expres­sions, (and many times impro­perly) was (as some give out) jeer'd for saying in his Common­wealth, Riches whether of gold, or silver, must not be suffer'd to [Page 109] take footing, or dwell in a City. Suppose (say they) he would have forbid the having of Cattle in the same reason he shou'd have said the riches of Sheep and Oxen. But what we have al­ready said in general, will suf­fice to let you see how useful figures are to the perfection of loftiness, in that they are the Nerves and Sinews of speech and tend to the being patheti­call; which participates as much of loftiness, as loftiness it self does of what is delicate and delightful.

CHAP. XXV. Of the choice of Words.

SInce thoughts and expressi­ons are so reciprocal, that [Page 110] by the one we come to the knowledge of the other: let us see what remains to be said in this part of the Treatise concer­ning expression; but, for that every one must needs be sen­sible, what a great power there is in select and proper words, 'twill be altogether needless to insist long upon this point. In short therefore, Orators, or any other Writers, who endeavour to be Sublime and Lofty, have not any one thing, that affords them so much greatness, Ele­gancy, Neatness, Weight, or Vigour for their Works, as does a careful choice of Words; 'tis they that dress out Speech in all its splendor, 'tis they give it the beauty, nay the very life and Soul which it has; in a word, they are the proper, and most natural light of our [Page 111] thoughts. Yet must we take heed, how and upon what oc­casion we use them, for to ex­press a mean Subject in Great and Lofty Words, is like put­ting a little Child to act a Tra­gical or Heroical part.Our Author after he had shewed how Impertinent great Words, are in an ordinary stile, do's let us see, that sometimes little words may be made use of in a noble Stile. A fur­ther proof here­of is that pas­sage in Theopom­pus which Ce­cilius censures, but upon what ground, I know not; for in my mind, it is much to be commended as be­ing both correct and very ex­pressive. Philip (saies he) Swallow'd patiently those affronts, which the necessity of his affairs obliged him to endure. Now, that plain and familiar terms, do many times express a thing [Page 112] better than all the high-flown Eloquence whatever, the dai­ly experience which we have from the transactions of this life, can sufficiently testifie. Be­sides that which is spoken in plain and familiar words, is more fully and distinctly under­stood, and therefore so much the sooner believ'd. Therefore (when spoken of a man, who consulting his Interest, does ea­sily, nay, willingly bear with In­juries) this Phrase, to swallow Affronts, seems to me to have a very strong signification. So is it of that expression in Hero­dotus. Cleomenes being Mad, with a Knife Minc'd his own flesh, and after having so mangled himself, dyed. And in another place, Pythes stood Fighting on the Deck till he was Hack'd in pieces. Such plain expressi­ons [Page 113] as these, shew that the Author of them, does not so much aim at Elegancy, as naked truth; and yet are they far from being dull, or trivial.

CHAP. XXVI. Of Metaphors.

AS for the number of Me­taphors, Cecilius is one of those, who will not allow above two or three at the most to the expressing of one single thing: but let us follow Demosthenes, he shews us, that there are se­veral cases wherein we may make use of many at one and the same time. As when the pas­sions, like a rapid stream, neces­sarily suck 'em in one upon ano­ther. These wretched men (says [Page 114] he) these base Sycophants, these furies of the Republick, have in­humanly torn in pieces their own Countrey. These are they who heretofore, in their debaucheries, sold our liberties to King Philip, as at this day they do to Alexan­der. These are they, who, mea­suring all their happiness by the brutish pleasures of eating, and scandalous rioting, have thrown down all the bounds of reputation, and destroy'd that fundamentall, and wholsom Law of levelling, wherein consisted the felicity of the ancient Greeks. With this band of Metaphors our Orator falls furiously upon those Tray­tors. Yet Aristotle and Theo­phrastes are of opinion, that to alleviate the boldness of these figures, 'tis convenient to use some such expression; as, If I may so say, as it were, to go yet [Page 115] further. For (say they very well) the previous excuse is an Attonement for their boldness. But I still stick to my first positi­on, that there is no excuse so natural, or allowable for the abundance, or boldness, either of Metaphors, or any other Fi­gures, as the using 'em to a fit purpose, that is, the being pa­thetical and lofty; both which, requiring strong and weighty expressions, have a natural force and violence, wherewith they hurry every thing after them, and will not give the au­dience time to criticize upon the number of the Metaphors; being at that instant possessed with the same fury as he that says them. And many times in common places, and descripti­ons, there is nothing so advan­tageous as a chain of Metaphors [Page 116] well linkt together. 'Tis with the Assistance thereof, that Xenophon has so delicately ana­tomized mans body, though not altogether so well as Plato. This calls the Head of a Man a Cittadel, the Neck an Isthmus plac'd between it and the body, the Joynts are as Hinges upon which it turns. Pleasure is the bait for all misfortunes that hap­pen to mankind: the Tongue is the Judge of Tast; The Heart is the Root of the veins; the foun­tain of bloud; which flows from thence through all the other parts, and is in a place every way for­tified. He calls the Pores narrow streets. The Gods (says he) willing to preserve the Heart from Batteries which are made by a suddain surprize of frightfull ob­jects, or from the violent flames of choller, have plac'd underneath [Page 117] it, the Liver, which is of a soft bloudless substance, but full of little holes like a spunge, which serve for conveyances to the Heart, that it be not choak'd up, and disturb'd from doing its office, when the choler is too much enflam'd. He calls the seat of the affections, the Womens Nursery; and the seat of the Passions, the Mens Apartment; The spleen, he says, is the Kitchen of the Entralls, which being full of the excrements of the Liver, swells and boyls up. afterwards (continues he) the Gods cover'd all these parts with flesh, as a Bulwark and defence against the assaults of heat and Cold, or any other accident; and is (says he) like soft wool, which encompasses the body, and yields to any impression. The Bloud he calls the food of the flesh, and to the end (says he) that every part [Page 118] shou'd be nourish'd, there are seve­ral Pipes like Conduit Pipes in a Garden, through which the little streams of bloud, flowing from the heart, as the Spring-Head, run into every part of the Body. And when death comes (he says) that the Organs are unty'd, like the Ropes of the Ship, and so let the soul go a drift. There are many more no less pleasant and admirable, but these shall suffice to shew the natural loftiness of such figures, to shew, I say, how material they are, not only to the being lofty and pathetical, but excellent in description. Now that these figures, as well as all other elegancies of speech, are apt to transport a thing to excess, is a most undeniable truth, and not to be learn'd of me. Hence is it, that divine Plato has been much found [Page 119] fault with, for suffering him­self to be sometimes hurried a­way by extravagant and harsh Metaphors, to a vain allegori­cal Ostentation. 'Twill not easi­ly be conceived (says he) that 'tis with a City as with a Vessel, where­in if Wine be powred which is never so strong and heady, yet of a sudden entring into the Soci­ety, of another sober divinity which corrects it, it becomes mild, and fit to be drunk; To call Water a sober Divinity, to use the word correct, in stead of Temperate; and to affect such odd conceits savours too much, say they, of a Poet, who him­self is not very sober. And this perhaps was it, that gave occa­sion to Cecilius, in his Commen­taries upon Lycias, to conclude that in the whole Lycias was a better Orator then Plato; in­duced [Page 120] thereunto by two distinct motives, both equally unreason­able; for though he lov'd Lycias dearer than himself, yet he ha­ted Plato more than he loved Lycias; being therefore byas'd by a strong inclination for the one, and as strong an aversion for the other, he has not pass'd that true, and impartial Judg­ment upon several points in these Authors, as probably he may imagine. For he accuses Plato of growing flat in many places, but speaks of the other as a most correct and unquesti­onable writer; which is so far from being true, that there is not the least glimpse of reason for what he says: and where shall we meet with an Author that does not now and then for­get himself, and let slip some­thing justly to be carp'd at?

CHAP. XXVII. Whether that which is plain and profitable, is to be preferr'd to Loftiness, which is defective.

IT may not perhaps be un­seasonable to examine in this place, whether is most to be preferr'd, be it in Prose or Poetry, that which is Lofty and Defective, or that which is Plain; but withall very compleat: and again, whether a piece is most to be valued, ac­cording to the number or qua­lity of the good things con­tained therein? For these Que­stions, being naturally incident to the present Subject, must in­evitably be resolv'd. First then, that which is extoarrdinary [Page 122] Great and Lofty, cannot have that naturall purity, that which is plain and easie, for that a too great care of being Polite and Elegant, does oftentimes de­generate into lowliness; and as those who have vast Estates, must though unwillingly, neg­lect some one part or other; so, those who aime at an ex­troardinary Loftiness, cannot possibly but be careless in some few particulars. On the con­trary, 'tis very hard, if not im­possible, to finde any faults in a stile that is plain and indiffer­ent, for the fancy not venturing to mount too high, but obser­ving a just Medium, remains secure, whereas in Loftiness, it soares to so great a pitch, that 'tis apt to grow Giddy, and so be in continuall danger of fal­ling. Nor am I ignorant of [Page 123] what may be Objected, that 'tis natural to judge of mens Wri­ting according to what is worst in them, and that the faults which are observed, leave a strong impression upon the mind, when that which is exact and smooth passes currantly off; and though I have taken notice of severall faults in Homer and the most remarkable Authors, and am perhaps one who will as little countenance them as any body, yet give me leave to say, that I look upon them to be very slight, and not so much to be accounted faults, as insig­nificant mistakes, which while their thoughts were wholly in­tended upon great things, they have carelesly let slip. In a word, I hold that a Lofty Stile, though in some places deficient, (seeing that deficiency pro­ceeds [Page 124] from the very being Lofty) is to be prefer'd before that which is compleat and in­different. True 'tis, Apollonius who wrote the Poem of the Argonantes, do's never slacken. Theocritus (baiting some few things which are none of his own) has in all his Works no­thing but what is very delight­full. Yet after all, had you ra­ther be Apollonius or Theoeritus, then Homer Eratosthenes? E­rigo is a piece not to be censur'd, but will you therefore reckon him a greater Poet then Ar­chillicus? who I confess is confus'd and wants order and Oeconomy in many parts of his Writings, but 'tis then only when that Divine Enthusiasme, with which he is hurried on, will not permit him to follow the Dictates of his own Judg­ment; [Page 125] and so for Lyrick Poesy; had you rather be Bachillides, then Pindar; or for Tragedy, Ion, then Sophocles? notwith­standing these two (viz) Pa­chillides, and Ion, never stum­ble, but have a great deal of E­legancy, and Analogy, in whatsoever they write: which cannot be said of Pindar and Sophocles; for in the height of their greatest raptures, while they are Thundring and Light­ning (as I may so say) when they shou'd not, they most un­fortunately smother their own fancies. Yet is there any so­ber, and Judicious man, who will vouchsafe to compare all that Ion ever wrote, to that single Play of Sophocles's Oe­dipus.

CHAP. XXVIII. A Comparison betwixt Hy­peride and Demosthenes.

NOw then, if we esteem a piece according to the number and quality of the good things which are contained therein; 'twill follow that Hy­perides is cleerly to be prefer'd before Demosthenes: for besides that he is more Musical, he has more accomplishments requisite to an Orator; in most of which he is very eminent, like the Olympick Gamesters, who per­form five several sorts of ex­ercises, and though in any one they come short of the chief Professors; yet in the whole, [Page 127] they surpass the common rank. Demosthenes has not any one excellence, which he has not imitated, unless it be that of Composition or placing the sen­tences: he has the smoothness of Lycias, he knows how and where to be soft and tender; and does not express all things with one and the same tone as Demosthenes does; he is very pleasant in his Ethicks: the liveliness of his stile is temper'd with a certain agreeable and blooming sweetness: There is in his works abundance of very facetious things, his way of deriding is very genteel and handsom, he is wonderfully expert in handling an Irony, his raileries are not dry or forc'd (like theirs who Ape the Attick stile) but lively and tou­ching; he is very quick at an­swering [Page 128] all objections by turn­ing 'em into ridicule; he has several delightful and Comical humours, which always take where he aims, and are most in­comparably enamel'd with short witty sentences; he has a natu­ral Genius to stir up, and beget pity, he is very copious in his fabulous relations, he is extream­ly easie in his digressions, he turns about, and takes breath where he pleases, as may be seen in those fictions which he relates of Latona; Lastly, he has made a Funeral oration, which is so curiously penn'd, that I question very much whether it can be match'd: on the other hand, Domosthenes is not very good at Ethicks, his stile is not full or luxuriant, but somewhat harsh. In a word, he wants al­most all those qualities just be­fore [Page 129] mentioned; if he strives to be pleasant rather then not di­vert, he makes himself ridiculous. And the more he endeavours at being delightful, he is the fur­ther off. Yet after all, for that in my mind all these excellencies, which are thus crowded in Hy­perides, have nothing in 'em that is great and lofty: they discover him to be at best, but a weak and sober orator, who does not rouze the mind, and therefore no one was ever much trans­ported at the reading his works. Whereas Demosthenes contri­ving in himself all the qualities of an Orator truly born to lof­tiness, and perfectly accomplish­ed by study (viz) That stately and Majestical accent, those lively movements, that fulness, sharpness, readiness, and what is most to be valued in him; that [Page 130] vehemence of expression, which no man else cou'd ever attain, or come near to; with the Assistance of all these divine qualities, which I look upon as so many extraordinary gifts from Heaven, and which I may not presume to call humane en­dowments; he hath supplanted all the most famous Orators that ever were, and (if I may so say) has violently thrown down, and ecclipsed their glories by his Thunder and Lightning. For in those things, wherein his excellency lies, he does so much exceed all others; that he makes sufficient amends for those wherein he is deficient, and without doubt 'tis much easier to look stedfastly, and with open eyes upon the Thunderbolts which shoot from Heaven, then not to be moved at those violent [Page 131] and passionate expressions, with which his writings are very full.

CHAP. XXIX. Of Plato and Lysias, &c.

AS for Plato there is yet a­nother difference, for he out-do's Lysias, not only in the nature, but number of his Ex­cellencies. Nay more, those defects which Lysias has, render him less inferiour to Plato, then those faults, with which he do's mightily abound. What there­fore is the reason, that these Di­vine Authors have neglected an exact delicacy and correctness, to look after nothing, but Lof­tiness in their Writings? 'Tis, that nature has not form'd Man like a heavy sordid Animal, but [Page 132] sent him into the World, as in­to a Spacious Theatre to be a Spectator of all that is Acted therein. That she has, I say, brought him into the List, as a noble Combatant, that is, to aim at nothing but Glory. And therefore has she created in the Soul a fervent desire after every thing that apears most transcen­dently great and magnificent. And do we not see, that the Circumference of the whole World, is not large enough to contain the thoughts of Man, but that they oftentimes Mount above the Heavens, and o're leap the bounds of Nature her­self. And without doubt, if we do but cast our Eyes upon any one, who throughout the whole course of his life, has no one action that is not great and ilustrious, 'twill easily be [Page 133] understood, to what end and purpose we were first created; hence it is, that we admire not little Brooks, though the wa­ter be never so clear and useful for us, but are extreamly de­lighted with, and surpriz'd at the sight of the Danube, the Nile, the Rhine, and above all the main Ocean. We are not at all concern'd to see a little Flame, which we our selves have kin­dled, retain its brightness, but are startled at those which come from Heaven, though they are consum'd e're scarce they can appear, and there is nothing so wonderfull in nature as those Furnaces in Mount Aetna, which from its Abyss do's some­times throw out. Pint. Pyth. 1.

[Page 134]From what has been said we may conclude, that what­ever is profitable and necessary, is not to be wondred at, as be­ing easily attain'd, but that all which is extroardinary, and be­yond common expectation, is very admirable and surprizing.

CHAP. XXX. That the faults in Loftiness are excusable.

ANd now, as to the great Masters of Oratory in whom both what is Lofty and useful do concur, we must needs allow, that in those justs before mentioned, (though not alto­gether faultless) there is some­thing Supernatural and Divine, two qualities which almost e­qual [Page 135] us to the Gods themselves, whilst a never so great excel­lency in all the rest, bespeaks us no more then men. All the benefit we have in committing no faults, is that we avoid being censur'd; but in being Lofty we become admirable. What shall I then say, that any one of those stately and sublime thoughts, which are in the works of those most incom­parable Authors, may throughly reconcile us to the Errors, or rather mistakes, they have been guilty of? Nay further, I will maintaine, that if all the faults which are in Homer, Demost­henes, Plato, and those other famous Writers, were summ'd up, they would not amount to a Moyety, Nay not the thou­sand part of the good things they have said. Wherefore the [Page 136] most envious in all Ages have yielded the Trophy to 'em, and no body, as yet, being able to dispute it with 'em, they have bore it away hitherto, and will in all probabillity keep it.

It may be objected, that a Co­lossus which has some faults, is no better then a small statue that is compleat. As for ex­ample, Polycletus's Souldier. Odorysphorus a small statue of Polycletus's To this I answer, That in artificial matters, the Workmanship and pains is most regarded, whereas in the work of nature, that is most to be valued, which is most prodigious and magni­ficent, [Page 137] seeing it is the property of man to reason: besides, in a Statue, we examine how like 'tis to the thing it represents; but in Speech (as I have already said) we look for something that is Supernatural and Di­vine. Now (to keep close to what we have already laid down) since 'tis impossible, that the fancy should continue long at a high pitch, without being subject to totter; and that Art is the only thing which can buoy it up. 'Tis very ne­cessary to a Soveraign perfect­ion of Loftiness, that there be a mutual concurrence and assistance of Art and Nature. Thus much I have thought fit to say upon these occurrent questions; not but that every man is freely left to his own private opinion.

CHAP. XXXI. Of Similes, Comparisons, and Hyperboles.

SImiles, and Comparisons, have a great resemblance with Metaphors, and in this only they differThis place is very defici­ent, and all that our Au­thor had said of these figures is wanting. Such another is this Hyperbole, al­though your brains are in your head, and you do not trample them un­der your heels. Wherefore we ought carefully to consider, how far a figure may be stretch­ed, least, like a string that is screw'd too high, it breaks, and produces an effect clear contra­ry to what we expected. As [Page 139] Isocrates in his Panegyrick, af­fecting to put a strong Empha­sis upon every thing he said, is fallen I know not how into the Errors of a meer School-boy. The design of the Panegyrick is to manifest, that the Atheni­ans have been more servicable to Greece then the Lacedemo­nians, you shall see what mea­sure he has taken. Since Speech has a naturall Power to make great things seem small, and small great: since it knows how to make that which is Old appear New; and again, that which is New to pass for Old. How (says one) is it so Isocrates, do you intend to invert the nature of those things which relate to the Athenians, and Lacedemonians. See how this unseasonable com­mendation of Speech, turns to an Exodium, to perswade the [Page 104] audience, nor to gave credit to what he says. That therefore which has been said of all Fi­gures in generall, may be ap­plyed in particular to Hyper­boles (viz.) That they never succed better then when they are so distinguish'd, as not to be taken for Hyperboles, which constantly happen;, when they are powred out in a passion a­midst some great circumstance. As is that of Thucydides in his account of those who dy'd in Sicilie. The Sicilians going thither made a great Slaughter of those who were thrown into the River, immediatly the Water was coloured with the bloud of those wretches, nevertheless as muddy and thick with bloud as 'twas, they drank it, nay and some fought about it. 'Tis not very credible that men should drink Dirt and [Page 141] bloud, nay and fight for it, but the violence of the passion, in the middle of that strange cir­cumstance, wou'd not suffer a reason to be given for what was said. So is it of that which Heroditus has concerning those Lacedemonians, who fought in the straits of Thermopylae. They defended themselves for some time in that place, with what weapons they had, and with their Hands and Teeth, till the Barbarians by continual shooting at them, had buried them under their Arrows. What will you say of this Hy­perbole? what likely hood is there, that these men shou'd de­fend themselves with their Hands and Teeth against whole Troops that were Armed, till they were buried under the enemies Arrows? Yet is this pro­bable, for that the thing seems [Page 142] not to be sought after to ex­press but that the Hyperbole does naturally proceed from the very essence of the thing. So that (as I have already observed) there is no such remedy against the too great boldness of such Figures, as not to make use of 'em, but to a fit purpose, that is, the being pathetical and lofty. This is so infallible a truth, that we say several commical things, which in themselves are absurd, yet pass for probabilities, because they excite passion, that is laughter, which is a passion of the Soul caused by something that is delightfull. There is this passage in a commical Poet, The Land he has in the Country, is no larger then a Lacedemonian Epistle. Lastly, Hyperboles may serve as well to diminish [Page 143] any thing, as to add to it, for Exageration is proper to both these different effects, and Dya­sirmus, (which is a kind of Hy­perbole) is nothing but an Ex­ageration of a thing that is mean and ridiculous.

CHAP. XXXII. Of Composition or placing of Sentences.

OF those five branches of Loftiness, which we ree­koned up in the beginning of this Treatise, there yet remains the fifth to be examined, which is, The composition or placing of Sentences. But since we have already handled this Topick in two entire volumes, wherein we have been as copious, as the long observation we have made [Page 144] wou'd permit. It shall suffice in this place to say no more, than what is absolutely necessary to the present subject, (viz.) That Harmony which has a power of perswading, or delighting, is not naturally given to man only, but that even Instruments, alto­gether inanimate, have a strange influence over our affections. For do not we find, that the sound of a Flute does move the very souls of those who hear it, and transport 'em beyond them­selves? that it charms their Ears with the soft movement of its cadence, and forces 'em to bear a part in that Heavenly Musick, with a proportionable motion of their Bodies. Nor is it so of Flutes only, but all other tunable Instruments. For tho' of themselves the Notes signi­fie nothing, yet by being often [Page 145] interchanged, and shuffl'd one with another, they beget so de­licate an Air, that it transports, and ravishes, all those who hear it; Yet after all, they want the power of perswasion, and are but the Ecchoes, or (if I may so say) Bastards of a voice, and not effects of the nature of man. What then may we not say of composition? which is the Har­mony of Speech, the use where­of is natural to man; which does not only strike the ear, but penetrate the mind, which musters up such different words, thoughts, things, and Elegan­cies suitable to the affections of the Soul, which by a mixture and variety of pleasing sounds, crept into the mind, does cre­ate in him who hears 'em, the same passions, that the Author himself has; and which upon [Page 146] this stately pile of words raises that noble Structure of loftiness. Can we deny, but that it con­tributes much to the Greatness, Majesty, Stateliness, and all other excellencies of Speech; and that having an absolute command over the mind, it can at all times Elevate and ravish the same. This certainly is a truth so approved, and gene­rally received, that to dispute it must needs argue a great ignorance and madness.Here our Author for an example of the placing of Sen­tences, brings a pas­sage out of Demosthe­nes. But because that which he says, de­pends clearly upon the Greek Tongue, and because I find it not in the French I have omitted it. 'Tis with Speech as with the Body, which owes its chiefest perfe­ction to the well setting to­gether, and just proportion of the Members: for though any one part dis­joynted [Page 147] from the rest has no­thing in it that is temarkable, yet all together make a perfect Body. So if the parts of Lofti­ness be taken asunder, Loftiness it self is destroyed; but when they are drawn into a Body, and firmly joynted by Harmony, the turn of every Period gives them an Emphasis. Not unfitly therefore may Loftiness in re­spect of periods, be compared to a Feast, for which many per­sons club: And hence is it, that several Poets, and other writers have succeeded so well, not­withstanding they had no na­tural Genius to Loftiness, and that their expressions are for the most part mean and ordina­ry, since by the delicate con­nexion and ordering of the Sen­tences, they have put a gloss upon the courseness of their ex­pressions; [Page 148] Philestus is one of these, and so is Aristophanes in some places, and Euripides in many: as is already sufficiently shewed. For example, Hercules in the last of these three Au­thors, after he had kil'd his Chil­dren, says,

This thought is very trivial, yet in the whole there is something that is Musical and pleasant, which gives weight and vigour to it; and without doubt if we invert the method of this Period, we shall apparently find, how much happier Euripides is in the composition and placing of his Sentences, then the sub­stance [Page 149] of his thoughts. Again, in his Tragedy intituled Dirce carried away by a Bull, there is this passage.

True it is, this thought is great and noble, but withall it must needs be confess'd that it becoms yet greater, by that gentle and easy Harmony wherewith the Sentences are not huddl'd to­gether like a heap of rubbish by its own weight, but linck'd to each other with distinct and proportionable stops, which are as so many foundations, where­on the superstructure of the whole Speech is raised.

CHAP. XXXIII. Of the measure of Periods.

ON the other hand. There is nothing that depresses and abates Loftiness more then those numbers which are broak­en and pronounced in haste, such as are Pyrreckei, Trochaei, and Dichoraei, Fit only for the nimble movements of a dance, for that all these kind of Feet and measures, have no more then a certain quaintness and agreement of meeter, which is alwayes the same, and therefore very unable to produce any effects in the Soul. Yet what I look upon to be worst of all, is, that, as when any thing is sung to us, we do not mind the [Page 151] sense of the words, but are alto­gether taken up with the plea­santness of the Tune; so what­soever is compos'd of these num­bers, do's not move the Passions of the mind which ought to be the product of Speech, but fills the Ear with the move­ment of the Cadence, or pro­portion of time; and thereby the Audience fore-knowing what must necessarily follow next, anticipates him that is Speaking, and (as in a Dance) takes notice of the Cadence be­fore it happens. Another thing which do's very much weaken Speech, is when the Periods, are nicely order'd, when the mem­bers thereof are too concise, and and have too many short Sylla­bles tackt together in those pla­ces where they ought to be di­vided. Cautiously therefore [Page 152] must we avoid too short periods; for there is nothing that stifles Loftiness more then the endea­vouring to comprehend it in a small space. Now when I speak of short Periods, I mean not those which have their due extent and proportion, but such only as are too little, & as 'twere maym'd or imperfect, which lat­ter serve onely to confound the understanding, whereas the for­mer do direct and enlighten it. Not but that Periods which are too long, and all Sentences in­serted for no other reason then the Impertinent lengthning of Speech, are altogether as bad, and perfectly Excrementitious.

CHAP. XXXIV. Of the meanness of Words

AMongst those things, which tend so much to the Embasening of Speech, we may very well reckon that of Meanness of Words. Therefore do we find in Herodotus, a description of a Tempest, most excellent, I confess, as to the Sense, but crampt in many pla­ces with very Bald Words. As when he saies the Sea began to The Greek has it [...], which signifies Boyl up, but because in our Language that word sounds well. I have ra­ther followed the French and rendr'd it rum­ble. Rumble. The ill sound of this word Rumble, takes from the Greatness of his thought. The Wind (said he in another place) tost 'em very much, [Page 154] and those who were scatterd by the Tempest made a disagreeable end. This word tos'd is very mean, and the Epethite, disagreeable, is improper to express an acci­dent of that nature. So likewise Theopompus the Historian, has made a Description of the King of Persia's expedition into E­gypt, which would be very ad­mirable, were it not spoyl'd by the baseness of many of the words. Is there a City or Na­tion (saies this Historian) through­out all Asia, that has not sent Embassadors to the King? Is there any rarity or precious thing either of the Growth, or Manu­facture of any of these Countries, which has not been presented to him? What a quantity of Arras, and rich Carpets, some red, some white, and some party-col­lour? How many Embroyder'd [Page 155] Tents, furnish'd with all things necessary? How many costly Robes, and Beads, How many Gold and Silver Vessels, some set with Diamonds, others most curiously engrav'd, besides all this a vast deal of Armour, a­fter the Barbarian and Greci­an Fashion, an innumerable head of Cattle for carriages, and Beasts fitted for Sacrifice, how many Bushels full of dilicious provision, how many Chests, and Sacks full of Books, and other Ʋtensils, to­gether with so great a quantity of high season'd meat, and all sorts of Fowl, that whosoever sees 'em at a distance would take them for little Hills rising out of the Earth. Here, from the high­est pitch of Loftiness he tumbles down to the lowest degree of flatness, and in that place too where she should rise highest. [Page 156] For when speaking of the Glo­rious provision, he makes men­tion of Bushels, Ragous, and Sacks, he seems to design no­thing more then the description of a Kitchin; and, as if any one, who is to set out Furniture, should amidst Embroydered Tents and Silver and Gold Cups, place Sacks and Bushels, it must necessarily make a very bad appearance; so if amidst the Or­nament of Speech, we make use of mean and ordinary words, they are as so many Clouds or Mists, which obscure the lustre of Expression. He needed one­ly to have made some little al­teration, and as to those Hills of season'd meat, and the rest of the Provisions, to have said in general that they sent the King Cammels, and many Carriage Horses loaden with all manner [Page 157] of dainties, or heaps of the most savoury, and delicious Food imaginable; or (if you will) all the delicate and choice Dishes that the Purveyors them­selves could possibly expect should please their Masters cu­rious Pallat. For we must not descend from what is great and Lofty, to mean and inconside­rable things, unless there be a very urgent necessity. The words must be answerable to the stateliness of the Subject, and therein 'tis good to imitate na­ture, which has so fram'd mans Body as not to expose the un­decent and filthy part to out­ward view — But, (to use Xenophons own words) She has conceal'd and remov'd the loathsom parts as far as may be, lest they should spoyl the beauty of the Creature. Yet after all, [Page 158] we need not be too nice and criticall, in examining what words are lowly in Speech. And, to conclude, since we have set down, what 'tis that Elevates and gives a vigour to Speech, 'tis easie to infer, that for the most part, the contrary is that which degrades and weakens it.

CHAP. XXXV. The Causes of the decay of Fancy.

NOw (dear Terentianus) there remains but one thing more to be considered, which is the question that was put to me sometime since by a Philosopher, very material to be explained, and therefore more particularly for your further [Page 159] Instruction; I have thought fit to annex it to this Treatise. Amongst several other things, I cannot but admire (said he) how it comes to pass, that in the present age, there are so many very able and eloquent Orators, that there are, I say so many, who have a lively and clean way of expressing them­selves, and yet few or none who can attain to Loftiness. Is it not (continued he) as is com­monly suppos'd, that Democra­cie is the best Nurse for great Genius's; since what ever is famous in Oratory, flourished with, and is now extinct with that sort of Government. And doubtless, there is nothing that elevates the mind of men more then Liberty, or that excites and stirs them up to an Emulation, and strong ambition of o're top­ping [Page 160] all others. Besides the en­couragements and rewards which are found in a Common­wealth, do give an Edge to, and (if I may so say) polish the minds of Orators, making them take great care to improve their natural Talent. In so much that their very works do manifest the liberty of their Country. But we (said he go­ing on) who from our Child­hood have felt the Tyranny of an absolute Government, and have been perplexed with the Laws and Customs of Monar­chy, when we were young, and capable of any impression. In a word, we who have never tasted of this lively and plenti­full spring of Eloquence, I wou'd say, liberty, can only ex­pect to become great and re­markable flatterers. Wherefore [Page 161] 'tis allowed (said he) that one born to Slavery may be capa­ble of other Sciences, but no Slave can ever attain to that of Oratory. For the mind (con­tinued he) being kept under, and subject to controll, dares not attempt any thing that is bold or noble. But all the Spi­rit and vigour it ever had, does sensibly decay. And it al­ways remains fetter'd as in a Prison. In a word, (to use Ho­mers expression)

If therefore it be true (which is so frequently reported) that those Boxes wherein Pygmies or Dwarfs are bred, do not only hinder 'em from growing to a [Page 162] full Stature, but make even those little Animalls, less, according to the Band which goes round about; So slavery (to give it a Definition) is a kind of Pri­son, wherein the Soul famishes and pines away, I am not ig­norant that 'tis very easie, and natural for man to find fault with the present times, but take heed thatThere is much wanting in this place, and here our Author takes up the question himself. And certainly (said I taking up the question) If the ease of a too long Peace, is a­ble to rust the brightest Souls, à Fortiori, this endless War, which has so long infested these parts, is a strong obstacle to our present desires: Besides those inseparable passi­ons, which attend this life, throw us daily into some confu­sion and disorder: So that 'tis [Page 163] the Epidemical disease of Co­vetousness, and immoderate Love of Pleasure, which (to say true) has brought us into slave­ry, or rather a Gulph in which all our thoughts and affections are swallowed up. There is no passion so mean and sordid as Avarice, and no Vice so foul as Sensuality. I do not see there­fore how 'tis possible, that those who set so great a value upon Riches, as even to Idolize them, can be infected with that dis­ease, without being lyable to all the ill symptoms with which 'tis naturally attended. And doubtless, Prodigality, Rioting, and such like Debaucheries, are the inseperable Companions of immoderate Riches; by whose assistance, they open the Gates of Cities, and Houses, and en­tring thereinto, take possession. [Page 164] But scarce have they resided there for any time, when they begin to build their Nests, and (according to the opinion of the Wise) strive to increase and multiply. Observe then what their Progeny is, they beget Pride and Luxury, the true off­springs of such Parents; which if once suffer'd to brood in us, will hatch Insolence, Unruliness, Im­pudence, and all those other in­exorable Tyrants of the Soul. As soon therefore as any one, laying aside all the thoughts of Virtue, gives himself over to such frivolous and transitory things; he must necessarily ex­pect all these fatall consequences before mentioned. He cannot look beyond himself, and there­fore be the Author of nothing but what is very mean and or­dinary. And if he ever had any [Page 165] thing that was great or Lofty, in a little time, it withers and dries up, till a generall conta­gion and corruption spread it self all over the Soul. And as 'tis impossible that a Judge who is brib'd, shou'd give a true or impartial judgment, for that he who suffers himself to be corrupted by any reward, is so blinded therewith, that he looks upon that only to be Just, and Honest, which is most ad­vantageous and usefull to him­self. How then is it possible, that in these times, when mens minds and manners are so strangely corrupted; when we make it our business to defraud this man of his Inheritance, to lay snares for, and wheadle a­nother man to make us his Heir, to force unreasonable gain out of every thing, and to [Page 166] expose even our own selves to sale; How is it possible, I say, that in this universal infection we shou'd find a man of sound Judgment, and free from Pas­sion? who not being blinded or misled by the insatiable lust of Riches, can distinguish what is truly great and worthy to be recorded to all Posterity. Now then, since it is thus with us, were it not better we should be subject to the Authority of another, then remain under our own jurisdiction; least the insatiable lust of Avarice (like a Mad-Man, who having broak his Chains, flies upon all those who are about him) shou'd set the whole World on Fire. In a word, I told him 'twas an excessive Luxury which had caus'd this Lethargy of mind, which (excepting some few) [Page 167] was the fatall distemper of man kind; so that if there be any one who does now and then study, 'tis I fear, with as great faintness as those do, who are lately recover'd of a Fit of Sick­ness; and that for pleasure, or vain glory, and not out of emu­lation, or any thirst after solid and commendable profit. But enough of this, Now let us pro­ceed to the passions, whereof we have promis'd a distinct Treatise, for in my opinion they are none of the least Ornaments of Speech, especially such as is Great and Lofty.