The art of speaking written in French by Messieurs du Port Royal in pursuance of a former treatise intituled, The art of thinking ; rendred into English. — Art de parler. English

The art of speaking written in French by Messieurs du Port Royal in pursuance of a former treatise intituled, The art of thinking ; rendred into English. — Art de parler. English

Table of contents

Title page

THE PREFACE.

Jan. 19. 1675.

THE FIRST PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.

CHAP. I.

I. The Organs of the Voice, and how our Speech is form'd.

II. Before we ſpeak, we ought to form a Scheme in our Minds of what we deſire to ſay.

III. To ſignifie the difference of our Thoughts, we have need of Words of different Orders.

IV. Nouns Subſtantives, Adjectives, and Articles.

V. How to mark the references which things have among themſelves.

CHAP. II.

I. Of the Nature of Verbs.

II. Of Pronouns. With one ſingle Verb we may be able to expreſs an entire Propoſition.

III. Of the Tenſes of Verbs.

IV. By Verbs may be ſignified the divers manners of affirming, and certain circumſtances of the action which they imply.

V. What Words are neceſſary to expreſs the other Operations of the Mind.

VI. The Conſtruction of Words, and Rules for that Conſtruction.

CHAP. III.

I. We muſt expreſs all the principal Idea's or Images that are formed in our Mind.

II. What ought to be the order or diſpoſition of Words.

III. How we may expreſs the Paſsions and Motions of our Mind.

CHAP. IV.

I. Cuſtom is the Maſter of all Language.

II. There is a good and a bad Cuſtom, and three ways to diſtinguiſh them.

III. Words are not to be uſed but in their proper ſignification, and to expreſs the Idea to which Cuſtom has annexed them.

IV. We are to conſider whether the Idea's of the Words we joyn, may be joyned as properly.

V. 'Tis Choice of Expreſsion that makes a Man Elegant.

THE SECOND PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.

CHAP. I.

I. No Language is rich enough to ſupply us with terms capable of expreſsing all the different faces upon which the ſame thing may be repreſented: We muſt have recourſe to certain manners of Speaking, called Tropes, whoſe Nature and Invention ſhall be explained in this Chapter.

II. A Liſt of the moſt conſiderable Tropes.

METONYMIA.

SYNECDOCHE.

ANTONOMASIA.

METAPHORA.

ALLEGORIA.

LITOTES.

HYPERBOLE.

IRONIA.

CATACHRESIS.

CHAP. II.

I. The Uſe of Tropes, and the Neceſsity of their being Clear.

II. Tropes muſt be proportioned to the Idea's we would give.

III. Tropes are an Ornament to Diſcourſe.

CHAP. III.

I. The Paſsions have a peculiar Language, and are expreſſed only by what we call Figures.

III. Figures are uſeful and neceſſary.

II. A Liſt of the Figures.

EXCLAMATION.

DOUBT.

EPANORTHOSIS.

ELLIPSIS.

APOSIOPESIS.

PARALIPSIS.

REPETITION.

PLEONASMUS.

SYNONYMIA.

HYPOTYPOSIS.

DISTRIBUTION.

ANTITHESIS.

SIMILITUDE.

COMPARISON.

SUSPENSION.

PROSOPOPEIA.

SENTENCE.

EPIPHONEMA.

INTERROGATION.

APOSTROPHE.

PROLEPSIS & HYPOBOLE.

COMMUNICATION.

CONFESSION.

EPITROPE or CONSENT.

PERIPHRASIS.

IV. The Number of Figures is infinite, each Figure being to be made an hundred different ways.

CHAP. IV.

I. Figures are the Arms of the Soul. A Compariſon betwixt a Soldier Fighting, and an Orator Speaking.

II. A Continuation of the Parallel betwixt a Soldier Fighting, and an Orator Pleading in defence of his Cauſe.

III. Figures illuſtrate obſcure Truths, and render the Mind attentive.

IV. Reflexions upon the good uſe of Figures.

THE THIRD PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.

CHAP. I.

I. Of Sounds, and Letters, of which Words are compos'd.

II. What is to be avoided in the ranging and diſpoſition of our Words.

VII. In ſpeaking, the voice does many times repoſe: We may commit three faults in ill-placing the repoſe of the voice.

IV. The too frequent repetition of the ſame Sounds, the ſame Letters, and the ſame words, is irkſome. The way of rendring the Pronunciation of a Diſcourſe equal.

CHAP. II.

I. Words are Sounds. Conditions neceſſary to make Sounds agreeable. The firſt Condition. A Violent Sound is diſagreeable: A moderate Sound pleaſes.

II. The Second Condition; A Sound ought to be diſtinct, and by Conſequence strong enough to be heard.

III. The Equality of Sounds contributes to the rendring them diſtinct, which is a Third Condition.

IV. The Fourth Condition. Diverſity is as neceſſary as Equality, to make Sounds agreeable.

V. The Fifth Condition is to unite and link together the former Conditions.

VI. The Sixt Condition that this agreement of Equality and Diverſi•y be ſenſible, and what is to be obſerv'd to make it ſo.

VII. What the Ear diſtinguiſhes in the Sound of Words, and what it may perceive with delight.

CHAP. III.

I. The Art to render Pronunciation agreeable is to be uſed with Prudence.

II. How we are to diſtribute the Intervals of Reſpiration, that the repoſe of the Voice may be proportionable.

III. The Compoſition of Periods.

IV. Examples of ſome Latin Periods: Periods are Pronounc'd with Eaſe.

V. The Figurative ranging of Words, and in what theſe Figures conſiſt.

VI. Reflections upon theſe Figures.

CHAP. IV.

I. Of the meaſure of Time in Pronunciation.

II. Of the making of Verſe.

III. How the Romans diſtinguiſh'd their meaſures. How many ſorts of Meaſures there are in the ſtructure of a Verſe.

The Firſt Rule.

The Second Rule.

The Third Rule.

The Fourth Rule.

The Fifth Rule.

The Sixth Rule.

IV. Of the Quality of Meaſures.

V Of the Variety of theſe Meaſures, and the Alliance of their Equality with their Variety.

VI. How the Romans made the Allyance of the Equality and Variety of their Verſe diſtinguiſhable.

VII. Of the French Poetry.

CHAP. V.

I. There is a strange ſympathy betwixt the Soul and Numbers; and what Numbers are.

II. When Numbers agree with the things that are expreſs'd, the Diſcourſe becomes more ſignificative and lively.

III. The way of joyning our Diſcourſe by Numbers that correſpond to the things ſignified.

THE FOURTH PART OF THE Art of Speaking.

CHAP. I.

I. We muſt make choice of a Style ſuitable to the Matter of which we treat. What Style is.

II. The Qualities of the Style depend upon the Qualities of the Imagination, Memory, and Judgment of the Writer.

III. The advantage of a Good Imagination.

IV. The Qualities of the Subſtance of the Brain, and the Animal Spirits, are neceſſary to make a good Imagination.

V. The Advantages of a good Memory.

VI. Qualities of the Mind neceſſary to make a Man Eloquent.

VII. Diverſity of Inclinations alter the Styles: Every Climate, every Age, hath its Style.

CHAP. II.

I. The Matter of which we treat, ought to determine us in the choice of our S•yle.

II. Rules for the Lofty Style.

III. Of a plain ſimple Style.

IV. Of the Middle Style.

CHAP. III.

I. Of Styles proper to certain Matters; and qualities common to all Styles.

II. Wbat ought to be the Style of an Orator.

CHAP. III. What ought to be the Style of an Historian.

IV. What ought to be the Style of a Dogmatical Aſſertion.

V. [What ought to be the Style of a Poet.

CHAP. V.

I. The beauty of Diſcourſe is an effect of an exact Obſervation of the Rules of Speaking.

II. The falſe Idea that men have of Grandeur, and their deſire to ſpeak nothing but Great things is the Cauſe of ill Ornaments.

III. Of Artificial Ornaments: Rules relating to thoſe Ornaments.

IV. The former Table refuted, and the true Original of Languages declared.

A Diſcourſe, in which is given an Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion.

CHAP. I.

I. What are the Parts of the Art of Perſwaſion.

II. The Invention of Proofs.

III. Of Common Places.

IV. Of Places proper to particular Subjects.

V. Reflexions upon this method of Places.

CHAP. II.

I. The Second Means to Perſwade.

II. Qualities requir'd in a perſon who would gain upon an Auditory.

III. What is to be obſerved in the things of which we Speak; and how we are to inſinuate into the minds of our Auditors.

IV. The Qualities that we have ſhow'd to be neceſſary in an Orator, ought not to be counterfeit.

CHAP. III.

I. It is lawful to excite in thoſe to whom we Speak, ſuch paſſions as may conduct them according to our deſigns.

II. What is to be done to excite the Paſſions.

III. How things worthy to be laught at are to be made ridiculous.

CHAP. IV.

I. The Diſpoſition and Parts of which a Diſcourſe is to be compos'd. Of the Exordium.

II. PROPOSITION.

III. Of Confirmation or Eſtabliſhment of Proofs, and of Refutation.

IV. Of the Epilogue, and other Parts in the Art of Perſwaſion.

THE TABLE OF CHAPTERS.

The Firſt Part.

The Second Part.

The Third Part.

The Fourth Part.

A Diſcourſe Preſenting an Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion.

Books ſold by Moſes Pitt at the Angel in St. Pauls Church-yard.

§

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THE ART OF SPEAKING: Written in French by MESSIEURS DU PORT ROYAL: In purſuance of a former Treatiſe, Intituled, THE ART OF THINKING.

Rendred into ENGLISH.

LONDON, Printed by W. GODBID, and are to be Sold by M. PITT, at the Angel againſt the little North Door of St. Paul's Church. 1676.

THE PREFACE.

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OUr common Idea of Rhetorick is this, That to ſpeak Eloquently, it ſuffices to cram our Memory with ſuch Precepts as are preſcrib'd by it. In this opinion, ſeveral People read with great eagerneſs thoſe Books which are writ of that Subject; but after all their pains and aſſiduity finding their improvement but ſmall, and themſelves little more Eloquent than before, they impute it to the Author, as if he had not diſcover'd the Myſtery of the Art according to his pretence: So that not receiving the benefit they expected, their diſappointment turns into diſguſt, and makes them deſpiſe all that he writes.

[Page] I ſhould expect no better Fortune for this Book, had not our Author avoided a particular fault that renders moſt Books of Rhetorick ineffectual. He does not trouble the Reader with a throng and huddle of Precepts, that ſerve only to load and incumber the Mind. He endeavours to lay open the bottom of the Art he undertakes, and its natural Principles, which being well underſtood, leaves us under no neceſſity of multitude of Rules, that do but crowd one another out of the Memory as ſoon as they are entred.

To make us comprehend the true Reaſons of the Principles of Rhetorick, our Author begins with an explication how Speech is form'd: To ſhow from Nature it ſelf after what manner words are to be contriv'd for the Expreſſion of our Thoughts, and the Motions of our Wills, he has ſuppos'd a company of new Men met together, who had never convers'd before, nor knew how to ſpeak. He conſiders what theſe Men would do; he makes it appear, they would quickly find the benefit of Speech, and frame a Language to themſelves. He conſiders what form they would give it, and in his reſearch diſcovers the Fundamentals [Page] of all Language, and gives his Reaſons for all Rules preſcrib'd by the Grammarians. It may be, his Diſquiſition will appear inconſiderable to ſome, who will be diſcourag'd from reading this Book, when in the Front they find him ſpeaking of Nouns Subſtantives, Adjectives, Declenſions, Verbs, Conjugations, &c. But, beſides that the Conſequence will eaſily evince, that it is uſeful for teaching Languages with more readineſs, and to make us ſpeak more exactly; Order would not permit him to paſs over thoſe little things, which if you will believe Quintilian (as great a Maſter of Rhetorick as any has writ) make the moſt important part of the Art of Speaking; and this he declares, by comparing them to the Foundations of a Houſe, which though laid low under ground, are yet as neceſſary parts as any that appear.

When his new Men have acted their parts, our Author ſhows what is the true Original of Language, and that 'tis not bare accident that ſupplied us with Words. Nevertheleſs he demonſtrates, that Language depends upon the Will and Conſent of Men, and that Cuſtom, or common Conſent, [Page] exerciſes an abſolute dominion over our Words, and therefore he gives us Rules to know the Laws of Cuſtom, and Directions how they are to be kept. And all this in his firſt Book.

In his ſecond Book he obſerves that the plentifulleſt, and moſt copious Languages cannot furniſh proper Terms for the Expreſſion of all our Idea's, and therefore recourſe is to be had to Art, and we muſt borrow the Terms of things that bear reſemblance, or retain ſome reference or connexion with thoſe which we would ſignifie other ways, had common Cuſtom afforded us Natural Terms. Theſe borrowed Expreſſions are called Tropes; he ſpeaks of all ſorts of Tropes, and of their Uſe. He obſerves likewiſe in the ſame Book, That as Nature has diſpos'd the Body of Man ſo, as to put it ſelf into ſuch poſtures immediately as are beſt proper for avoiding what is like to be hurtful, and for receiving what is like to do good: So Nature directs us to certain tricks and artifices in ſpeaking, able to produce in the Minds of our Hearers the Effects which we deſire, whether it be anger, or mildneſs, or deteſtation, or love. Theſe ways [Page] and artifices in ſpeaking, are called Figures, of which our Author treats with more than ordinary care, not contenting himſelf with mentioning their Names, and adding ſome few Examples (as is commonly done) but he diſcovers the Nature of each Figure, and how it is to be uſed.

The eaſineſs wherewith we ſpeak, and the pleaſure we take to hear an harangue well pronounc'd (as our Author has obſerv'd at the beginning of his Book) has diſpos'd Mankind to make uſe of Words to ſignifie his Thoughts, rather than of any other ſign. In the ordering and ranging of Words, great pains has been taken to find out what it is that makes a Diſcourſe go well off of the Tongue, and prove grateful to the Hearers. We have at large in his third Book, what we are to avoid, what we are to obſerve, what we are to do in the ranking our Words for better pronunciation; and what we are to do to make them acceptable to the Ear. In this Book it is he diſcourſes of Periods, explains the Art of Verſification; and after he has taught what it is in the Sound of Words that is pleaſant to the Ear, he ſhows how the Rules preſcrib'd by other Maſters [Page] for the Compoſition of Periods, and Making of Verſe, are for no other end, but to diſcover in Diſcourſe the conditions that render pronunciation moſt agreeable and eaſie.

The laſt Book treats of Styles, or ways of ſpeaking, which Men aſſume according to their natural inclinations. He gives direction for regulation of our Styles; and that every Subject might be treated in a convenient way, he ſhows how our Style ought to be heightned or debaſed, as the Matter of our Diſcourſe is conſiderable or otherwiſe: He ſhows how the quality of our Diſcourſe ought to expreſs the quality of our Subject; how our Style ought to be ſtrong or ſmooth, ſevere or florid, as the Nature of the Subject requires. He inquires into the Style of an Orator, a Poet, a Philoſopher, and Hiſtorian; and at the end of his Diſcourſe, ſpeaking of Rhetorical Ornaments, he demonſtrates that they are produc'd by exact obſervation of the Rules which he has preſcrib'd.

Theſe Four Books of the Art of Speaking, are followed by a Diſcourſe in which the Author gives us an Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion. At the Entrance of his [Page] Diſcourſe, he gives Reaſons why he has ſeparated that Art from the Art of Speaking, which Reaſons are not neceſſary to be inſerted in this place. Though his Diſcourſe be ſhort, I am of opinion it affords a better Deſcription of the Art of Perſwaſion, than great Volumes which others have compos'd of that Subject. And therefore our Author diſplaying the true Fundamentals of the Arts of Speaking, and Perſwading, (both which are comprehended in our Idea of Rhetorick) I do not deſpair but thoſe who ſhall ſeriouſly peruſe this Book, will receive ſuch benefit, as is not to be found in the Writings of the ancient Rhetoricians, who preſent us only with Rules, without any Character or Deſcription of their Principles.

Though this new Rhetorick ſhould give us nothing but ſpeculative Notions, that contribute little to the making us. Eloquent, yet the reading of it would not be altogether uſeleſs, becauſe in his Diſcourſe of the Nature of this Art, he makes ſeveral important reflexions upon our Mind, (whereof Diſcourſe is the Image) which reflexions conduce highly to the knowledge of our ſelves, and by conſequence deſerve our attention.

[Page] Beſides this, I perſwade my ſelf, there is no perſon of any moderate curioſity, but will be glad to underſtand Reaſons for all Rules preſcrib'd by the Art of Speaking. When our Author tells us what is pleaſing in Diſcourſe, he does not call it je ne ſcay quoy without a Name; he names it, and conducting us to the very Fountain from whence our Pleaſure ſprings, he preſents to our view the Principles of thoſe Rules that make them agreeable; which muſt needs be more ſatisfactory, than the Works of thoſe who pleaſe only by the practice of the ſaid Rules: For the Pleaſures of the Mind, are to be preferr'd before the Pleaſures of the Senſe. It would be abſurd and irregular (ſays St. Auſtin) to prefer Pleaſure cauſed by the running of a Verſe, before the Knowledge how to compoſe them. Nonnulli perversè, magis amant verſum, quàm artem ipſam qua conficitur verſus; quia plus auribus quam intelligentiae ſeſe dederunt. Some are ſo idle as to fancy a Verſe, more than the Art of compoſing them, becauſe they are more devoted to their Ear, than their Underſtanding.

[Page] But this Treatiſe will be more particularly uſeful to young Men, by reaſon our Author treats of every thing in its Natural Order; and conducts the Reader to the underſtanding of what he teaches by ſuch eaſie Reaſons, as are not deſcrib'd ſo accurately and plainly in moſt other Maſters. It has been a daily complaint, that ſufficient care has not been taken to inform and fortifie the Judgments of young People, who have been hitherto taught like young Parrots, only by words, without regarding the improvement of their Judgments by accuſtoming them to argue and reaſon upon the ſmall things that they are taught. Hence it is, that Sciences many times do but trouble the Mind, and corrupt the Natural Judgment that is often conſpicuous in ſome perſons who ſtudy but little.

Our Author thought not fit to ſwell up his Book with multitude of Examples, though perhaps they might have been convenient; for there is no Maſter but may ſupply this defect, by cauſing his Scholars to mark ſuch places as are excellent in the Works of ſuch as have tranſcended in the Practice of this Art.

[Page] This Treatiſe is not intended for the Orator alone, but in general for all that either ſpeak or write; for Poets, Hiſtorians, Philoſophers, Divines, &c. And though it was compos'd in French, it may ſerve for all Languages, becauſe it inquires into the Fundamentals of Speech, and the Rules preſcrib'd in it, are not peculiar to any one Language.

Jan. 19. 1675.

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Imprimatur hic Liber cui titulus [The Art of Speaking, &c.] Gul. Jane, S. T. B. Rev. in Chriſto Patri, D. HENR. Epiſc. Lond. à Sac. Domeſt.

THE FIRST PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.

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CHAP. I.

I.
The Organs of the Voice, and how our Speech is form'd.

WE may ſpeak with our Eyes, and our Fingers, and make uſe of the motions of thoſe parts to expreſs the Idea's which are preſent to our Minds, and the Affections of our Wills: But this way of Speaking is not only imperfect, but troubleſom. We [Page] cannot without much labour expreſs by our Eyes, or our Fingers, all the variety of things which occur to our thought: We move our Tongue with eaſe, and can readily diverſifie the ſound of our Voice in different manners. For this reaſon Nature has diſpoſed Man to make uſe of the Organs of the Voice to give ſenſible ſigns of what he wills and conceives.

The diſpoſition of theſe Organs is wonderful. We have a natural Organ, of which the aſpera arteria or Wind-pipe (proceeding from the Lungs to the root of our Tongue) is the paſſage or Canal. The Lungs are like Bellows, drawing in the Air by their dilatation, and expelling it by their contraction. The part of the aſpera arteria next the root of the Tongue is called the Larynx, and is incompaſs'd with Cartilages and Muſcles, by which it opens and ſhuts. When the orifice of the Larynx is ſtraight, the Air being violently forc'd out, is daſh'd and broken, and receives a motion which makes the ſound of the Voice; but which is not yet articulated. This Voice is received in the [Page] Mouth, where the Tongue modifies it, and gives it different forms, according to its propulſion againſt the Teeth or the Palate; according as it is detain'd or tranſmitted; or according as the Mouth is more or leſs open.

This facility of expreſſing our Sentiments by the Voice, has cauſed Mankind to apply themſelves ſtudiouſly to the conſideration of all the differences which it receives from the ſeveral motions of the Organs of Pronunciation; and they have diſtinguiſhed every particular modification by a Letter: Theſe Letters are the Elements of Speech, and though their number be not great, yet they are ſufficient for all the Words not only of the preſent, but of all the paſt, and future Languages in the World. The conjunction of two or more Letters makes a Syllable; one or more Syllables makes a Word; ſo that we may ſay, Speech is a compoſition of Sounds of the Voice, by Men eſtabliſhed to be the ſigns of their Thoughts, and having the power to awaken the Idea's to which they have annexed them. Their Number is but 24, yet are they capable [Page] of compoſing a prodigious multitude of different Words. I have ſhown elſewhere, that 24 ſeveral Letters may be ſo variouſly tranſpoſed, as to make 576 ſeveral Words of two Letters. That 24 times as many Words may be form'd of three ſeveral Letters, that is to ſay, 13824 Words. That 24 times as many more may be made of four ſeveral Letters; and ſo on proportionably: From whence we may judge of the vaſt variety of Words that might be made of them all, and indeed they are little leſs than infinite.

And here it is of importance to obſerve the diſtinction betwixt the ſoul of Words and the body; betwixt that in them which is corporeal, and that in them which is ſpiritual; betwixt that which is common to us with Birds, and that which is peculiar to our ſelves. The Idea's preſent to our Mind (when it commands the Organs of the Voice to form ſuch Sounds as are the ſigns of thoſe Idea's) are the Soul of our Words: The Sounds form'd by the Organs of our Voice (which, though of themſelves they have nothing reſembling [Page] thoſe Idea's, do notwithſtanding repreſent them) are the material part, and may be called the Body of our Words.

II.
Before we ſpeak, we ought to form a Scheme in our Minds of what we deſire to ſay.

A Painter will not lay on his Colours 'till he has formed in his imagination what he deſigns to draw. Diſcourſe is the Picture of our thoughts; the Tongue is the Pencil which draws that Picture; and Words are the Colours. We ought therefore in the firſt place to range our Thoughts, and put ſuch things as we intend to repreſent by our Words into natural order; diſpoſing them ſo, that the knowledge of ſome few of them, may render the reſt more eaſie and intelligible to the Reader.

The Natural Order to be obſerved in the ranging of our thoughts, belongs [Page] properly to thoſe that write of the Art of Thinking. Every Art has its bounds, which are not to be tranſgreſs'd. For ſuch things as reiate to the Matter of our Diſcourſe, my following Rules will not be (I ſuppoſe) unworthy of Conſideration. The firſt is, That we meditate upon our Subject, and make all reflexion neceſſary for the diſcovery of ſuch means as may direct us to our propoſed end. We muſt forget nothing that may make that Subject perſpicuous. But it many times happens, that endeavouring to clear and explain a thing, we overcharge the attention of the Reader, and render it more abſtruſe, by our prolix explications. Abundance is ſometimes the cauſe of ſterility: The Husbandman fears the rankneſs of his Corn, and feeds his Sheep with it to prevent it. We cannot comprehend any Argument or Science, unleſs our meditation ſupply us with things neceſſary, and retrench what is ſuperfluous; which pains an Author is to ſpare to ſuch perſons as he undertakes to inſtruct. A Man that writes by halves, gives an imperfect account; but a great [Page] book is a great evil; [...]. We wander in it, we loſe our ſelves, and have ſcarce patience to turn it over. When therefore we have made an exact collection of all things relating to the matter of which we treat, we muſt contract them, reduce them to their juſt bounds, and making a ſtrict choice and ſelection of what are abſolutely neceſſary, reject the reſt as ſuperfluous. We are to be continually intent upon the end to which we would arrive; we are to take the ſhorteſt cut to it, and avoid all manner of deviation. Unleſs we ſlightly run over things of ſmall importance, not at all eſſential to our deſign, our Reader will be weary, and his application diverted from ſuch as are.

This Brevity, ſo neceſſary to make a Book neat and compact, conſiſts not only in the retrenchment of what is unneceſſary, but requires that we inſert ſuch circumſtances as may illuſtrate our diſcourſe, and imply many things that are not expreſſed. For this, we are to imitate the addreſs of Timanthes, the famous Painter, who being to repreſent [Page] the prodigious ſtature of a Giant in a ſmall picture, painted him lying along in the midſt of a Troop of Satyrs, one of which was meaſuring the Giants Thumb with his Thyrſe; intimating by that ingenious invention, how vaſt his Body muſt needs be, when ſo ſmall a part of him was to be meaſured with a Launce. Theſe Inventions require much wit, and application; and therefore it was, that Mons▪ Paſcal (an Author very famous for his felicity in compriſing much in few words) excuſed himſelf wittily for the extravagant length of one of his Letters, by ſaying, he had not time to make it ſhorter.

III.
To ſignifie the difference of our Thoughts, we have need of Words of different Orders.

AS we cannot finiſh a Picture, nor diſtinguiſh the different ſtrokes [Page] of things to be repreſented therein, with one ſingle Colour; ſo 'tis impoſſible to expreſs whatever occurs in our Mind, with Words of one ſingle Order. Let Nature be Miſtreſs in this caſe, and teach us what this diſtinction ought to be; let us ſee how Men would form their Language, and make themſelves intelligible one to another, ſhould they be brought together from ſtrange and remote places. Let us make uſe of the liberty of the Poets, and fetch either out of the Earth or the Heavens a Troop of new Men, altogether ignorant of the benefit of Words. The ſight muſt needs be agreeable, becauſe it is pleaſant to fancy them ſpeaking, and converſing together with their Hands, their Eyes, geſtures and contortions of their Bodies; but it is plain, it would not be long before they would be weary of theſe poſtures, and either chance or diſcretion would ſhow them the conveniency of Words.

We cannot diſcover what form they would give to their Language, but by conſidering what we our ſelves ſhould do in the ſame company. Diverſity of [Page] Words then, being neceſſary, only in reſpect of the different things which paſs in our Mind, and we are inclin'd to impart; we muſt obſerve exactly all that ſo paſſes, that we may be enabled thereby to find out what we are to do to paint the different Features of our Thoughts.

When our Organs of Senſe are free, and undiſturbed, we perceive what it is that ſtrikes them, and at the ſame time we have the Idea's of ſuch things preſent to our Mind. For which reaſon theſe Idea's are not improperly called, The Objects of our Perceptions. Beſides theſe Idea's which reſult from our Senſes, there are others fundamentally inherent in our Natures, and not falling that way into our Minds; as thoſe which repreſent to us Natural and Original Truths, ſuch as theſe, That we are to give every man his due; That it is impoſſible for a thing to be and not to be at the ſame time, &c.

Doubtleſs if theſe new Men would make it their buſineſs to find out Words that might be ſigns of all theſe Idea's which are the Objects of our perception [Page] (which, according to the Philoſophers, is the firſt operation of the Mind) in the infinite variety of Words, it would not be difficult to find particular ſigns to mark every Idea, and give it a particular Name. In as much as we naturally make uſe of theſe primitive Notions, we may believe, that if other things ſhould preſent themſelves to their Minds, bearing any reſemblance or conformity to thoſe things which they had denominated before, they would not take the pains to invent new words, but (with ſome little variation) make uſe of the firſt Names to denote the difference of the things to which they would apply them. Experience perſwades me, that where a proper Word does not occur immediately to our Tongue, we ſhould make uſe of the Name of ſome other thing bearing ſome kind of reſemblance to it. In all Languages, the Names of things almoſt alike have very little difference: From one ſingle Word many other are derived, as is obvious in the Dictionaries of ſuch Languages as we know.

The ſame Word may be diverſified [Page] ſeveral ways; by tranſpoſition, retrenchment, addition of Vowels or Conſonants, or by changing the Termination. So that it is no hard matter, when we give the proper Name of a particular thing, to ſeveral others that are like it, to ſignifie by ſome little variation, what ſuch things have in peculiar; and in what they differ from the things from whence they have their Names.

IV.
Nouns Subſtantives, Adjectives, and Articles.

SUch Words as ſignifie the Object of our Thoughts, (that is to ſay, Things) are called Nouns. We conſider in every thing, its being, and its manner of being: The being of a thing, as for example, the being of Wax, is the ſubſtance of Wax. The roundneſs or ſquareneſs of the figure (which may be changed without prejudice to the [Page] Wax) are its manners of being. To be ignorant, or knowing, are manners of our being. It is neceſſary therefore, that among the Names of things, ſome ſhould be appointed to ſignifie the ſubſtance, and ſome the manner of their being. Thoſe which deſcribe the abſolute being of a thing, are called Subſtantives. Thoſe which deſcribe the manner only, are called Adjectives, becauſe having no natural ſubſiſtence of their own, they ſubſiſt by nothing but the Noun Subſtantive to which they are joyned. In theſe two Words, Round Earth, the laſt is the Subſtantive, and the firſt ſignifies nothing but its manner of being. Nouns Subſtantives do become Adjectives, or rather things of abſolute exiſtence; and ſubſtances are expreſſed by Nouns Adjectives, when being applied to other things, they are uſed to ſignifie their manner of being, as in theſe Adjectives, Silvered, Tinned, Leaded, &c.

Nouns do commonly ſignifie things in a general and unlimited way: Articles, in Languages where they are uſed, (as in Greek, Latin, French, &c.) [Page] do ſerve to reſtrain and determin the ſignification of Nouns, and apply them to a particular thing. If we ſay 'tis a happineſs to be King, the expreſſion is vagous, but if you add the to it, and ſay it is a happineſs to be the King, it determins the buſineſs, and cannot be underſtood but of the King of a particular People mentioned before. So that Articles do contribute very much to the clearneſs of Diſcourſe, and 'tis not impoſſible but theſe new Men, in the compoſure of their Language, would make uſe of them; and the neceſſity of determining the unfixed ſignification of Words would aſſiſt to the finding them out.

The different ways of termination; may be inſtead of another Noun. We find in all Languages that Nouns have two ſeveral terminations. One imports the thing mentioned to be of the Singular Number, the other of the Plural; for which reaſon Nouns have generally two Numbers, the Singular and the Plural. The word Homo, with the termination of the Singular Number, implies only a ſingle Perſon; but Homines, [Page] in the termination of the Plural, implies more Men; the variation of the termination ſerving inſtead of all, or many.

V.
How to mark the references which things have among themſelves.

VVE do not always conſider ſimply the things that are the Objects of our thoughts; we compare them with other things; we reflect upon the places where they are; upon the time of their duration; upon what they are; what they are not; and upon their references and relations. There is need of particular Terms to expreſs theſe references, with the Series and Connexion of all the Idea's that the Conſideration of theſe things imprints in our Minds. In ſome Languages the different terminations of the ſame Noun do create new differences, and ſupply thoſe Words which are neceſſary to expreſs the reference of a thing. Theſe [Page] are commonly called Caſes, and are ſix in each Number, both Singular and Plural. The Nominative, the Genitive, the Dative, the Accuſative, the Vocative, and the Ablative. The ſame Noun (beſides the principal Idea of the thing which it ſignifies) contains a particular reference betwixt that thing and ſome other, according as it is in the Genitive or the Dative Caſe, &c. The Nominative, ſignifies a thing ſimply and poſitively. The Genitive, its reference with the thing to which it relates, as Palatium Regis. The Dative, its relation to the thing as it tends to profit or prejudice, as Utilis Reipublicae. The Accuſative, its relation to a thing which acts upon it, as Caeſar vicit Pompeium. The Vocative, is uſed when we addreſs our diſcourſe to the perſon or thing ſignified by the Noun. The Ablative, is uſed in ſuch infinite caſes, that it is not poſſible to mark them all.

The Languages whoſe Nouns do not admit of theſe different Caſes, do make uſe of little words called Particles with the ſame effect; as of, the, to, by, they, &c. Adverbs are uſed likewiſe with [Page] little difference from the Declenſion of Nouns, carrying with them ſometimes the force of thoſe Particles, as this Adverb Wiſely imports as much as theſe two Words together, With Wiſdom. The different relations betwixt things, in reſpect of their place, ſituation, motion, repoſe, diſtance, oppoſition, and compariſon, are infinite. We cannot diſcourſe a moment, but ſomething will ariſe to ſuggeſt them. We are not to doubt then, but theſe men, whom we ſuppoſe brought together from remote parts, of no correſpondence, would quickly find out ſome way or other to ſignifie theſe references and relations, either by Particles (as in the French, where the Nouns have not that way of Declenſion) or by the different terminations of the Names of the Things themſelves, as in the Latin and Greek.

CHAP. II.

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I.
Of the Nature of Verbs.

THe operations of the Mind are referr'd commonly to three principals. Perception, by which we diſcern the difference of things. Judgment, by which we affirm of a thing, that it is, or that it is not. And Ratiocination, by which we draw conſequences to evince the truth or fallacy of a Propoſition conteſted, by comparing it with one or more inconteſtable Propoſitions. If we attend ſeriouſly to what paſſes in our Mind, we ſhall find that we do rarely conſider of things, without making judgment of them. So that when theſe new Men had furniſhed themſelves with words to ſignifie the objects of their Perceptions, they would doubtleſs ſeek out for words to expreſs their Judgments, [Page] that is to ſay, the Action of the mind, which affirms that a thing is ſo, or not ſo. And the part in diſcourſe which expreſſes our Judgment, is called a Propoſition, which Propoſition does neceſſarily comprehend two Terms, the Subject and the Attribute: The Subject is That of which we affirm: The Attribute is That which is affirmed of the thing. As in this Propoſition: God is juſt; God is the Subject; Juſt is the Attribute, it being the thing affirmed, or attributed to the Subject of the Propoſition. Beſides theſe two, there is in every Propoſition another Term, which couples the Subject with the Attribute, and ſignifies that Action of the Mind by which we judge, affirming the Attribute of the Subject; and the Terms which expreſs this Action, are in all Languages called Verbs. Verbs, as is obſerved by a judicious Grammarian, are words which ſignifie affirmation. A ſingle word would ſuffice to ſignifie all the like operations of our judgment, as the Verb Eſſe, which is the natural and ordinary ſign of affirmation. But if we judge of theſe new Men, by thoſe who have lived in all [Page] former Ages, the deſire of contracting their diſcourſe, would prompt them to make one word ſignifie both the affirmation and attribute, according to the practice in many Languages, where infinite numbers of words doth denote both the affirmation and the thing affirmed. For example, I read imports an affirmation, and the action which I perform when I read, at the ſame time. Theſe words, as is ſaid before, are called Verbs. And when, in ſome Languages, they take from them the power of ſignifying affirmation, they degenerate into the nature of Nouns, and are uſed accordingly, as when in French we ſay, le boire, le manger.

II.
Of Pronouns. With one ſingle Verb we may be able to expreſs an entire Propoſition.

THe frequent repetition of the ſame words being diſagreeable and troubleſome, [Page] and we in the mean time obliged to ſpeak often of the ſame thing; to rectifie that inconvenience, in all Languages that are know to us, there are certain words eſtabliſhed which are called Pronouns, and their number is three: The firſt implies the perſon ſpeaking, as I; the ſecond, the perſon to whom we ſpeak, as You; the third, the perſon or thing of which we ſpeak, as He, That. Theſe Pronouns have two Numbers, as the Nouns. The Pronoun of the firſt Perſon, in the plural Number, implies the perſons ſpeaking, as We; the Pronoun of the ſecond Perſon, in the plural Number, implies the perſons to whom we ſpeak, as Ye; and the Pronoun of the third Perſon, in the plural Number, implies the perſons or things of which we ſpeak, as They, Thoſe.

Again, to avoid the inconvenient repetition of theſe Pronouns, wch otherwiſe would often occur; in the ancient Languages they added certain Terminations to their Verbs, which ſupplied the place of theſe Pronouns, by which means a ſingle Verb became ſufficient to make [Page] an entire Propoſition; ſo this Verb Verbero, comprehends the ſenſe of this whole Propoſition, Ego ſum verberans: And beſides that this Verb intimates the affirmation, and the thing affirm'd, it ſignifies alſo the perſon beating, who is the perſon that ſpeaks of himſelf; and the reaſon is, becauſe the Verb has a Termination that ſupplies the place of the Pronoun of the firſt Perſon.

III.
Of the Tenſes of Verbs.

VVHat is affirmed of the Subject of a Propoſition, is either paſt, preſent, or to come. The different inflexions of Verbs, have power to denote the circumſtance of time belonging to the thing affirmed. The circumſtances of time are very numerous: We may conſider the time paſt with reference to the preſent, as when I ſay, I was reading when he entred into my Chamber. The act of my reading is paſt, in regard of the time [Page] in which I ſpeak; but I ſignifie the time preſent, in regard of the thing of which I ſpeak, which is the entrance of ſuch a man. We may alſo conſider the time paſt, with reference to another time paſt, as I had ſupp'd when he came in. Both which actions are paſt, in reſpect of one another. We may conſider the time paſt two ways, as definite, or indefinite: We may ſpeak preciſely, when an action was done; or we may only ſay, it was done. We conſider the Future Tenſe in the ſame manner, uſing ſometimes a preciſe and definite term, and ſometimes an indefinite, without any limitation.

In this new Language that is propos'd, we cannot tell whether all the different circumſtances of times would be expreſs'd by ſo many different inflexions, becauſe we do not find the people have diſtinguiſhed with the ſame exactneſs all the circumſtances of time. The Hebrew Verbs have only two Tenſes, the Preter Tenſe, and the Future Tenſe: They have but two inflexions to expreſs the diverſity of times. They make uſe of the inflexion of the Future [Page] Tenſe, to ſignifie the Preſent Tenſe. The Greeks are more exact, their Verbs have all the Tenſes aforeſaid. Yet I doubt not, but the Terms of this new Language would bear at leaſt the ſigns of ſome of theſe circumſtances, ſeeing in every Propoſition the time of the Attribute is to be determined; and the deſire to abbreviate our diſcourſe, is natural to all men. When I ſay, I ſhall love, the inflexion of the Future Tenſe that I give to that Verb, eaſes me of the trouble of this long Phraſe, It will happen ſome time or other that I ſhall be in love. When I ſay, I have loved, the inflexion of the Preterperfect Tenſe ſaves me ſeveral of theſe Words, There was formerly a time when I was in love.

IV.
By Verbs may be ſignified the divers manners of affirming, and certain circumſtances of the action which they imply.

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VErbs have their Moods, that is to ſay, they ſignifie, beſides the circumſtances of time, the manner of the affirmation. The firſt is the Indicative Mood, which demonſtrates ſimply what we affirm. The ſecond is the Imperative, and implies a command to ſuch a one to do ſuch a thing. The third is the Optative, a Mood of great uſe among the Greeks, and intimating an ardent deſire that ſuch a thing may happen. The fourth is the Subjunctive, ſo called, becauſe it has always ſome condition annexed to what we affirm, as I ſhould love him, if he did love me. If that condition were not inſerted after the Subjunctive, the ſenſe would be doubtful. The fifth Mood is the Infinitive; [Page] a Verb in this Mood has a large and undetermined ſignification, as To drink, to eat, to be beloved, to be beaten, &c. We ſhall ſee hereafter that Infinitive Verbs are uſed principally for the coupling and connexion of two Propoſitions. A Participle may be ſaid to be a ſixth Mood. A Verb in its Participle ſignifies only the thing affirmed, and not the affirmation; and therefore they are called Participles, becauſe they participate both of the Verb and of the Noun, ſignifying the thing affirmed by the Verb, without any affirmation. The Participle Beaten imports as much as the Verb To beat, yet he who ſays Beaten, affirms nothing, unleſs it be added or underſtood He is, or He has been beaten.

All Verbs (except Sum, Es, Eſt, Eſſe) do comprehend two Idea's, the Idea of affirmation, and the Idea of ſome action affirmed. An action has commonly two terms, the firſt à quo, the ſecond ad quem. In an action we conſider the Author that acts, and the Perſon upon whom: The firſt is called the Agent, the ſecond the Patient. It is neceſſary [Page] to determin the Term of the action of which we ſpeak, whether it be the Subject of the Propoſition, of which we affirm the action, that is either Agent or Patient; and therefore in ancient Languages, the Verbs have generally two Terminations, and different inflexions, which diſcover whether the Verb be taken actively or paſſively: As Petrus amat, & Petrus amatur; Peter loves, and Peter is beloved. In the firſt Propoſition, the Verb being active, imports that it is Peter that loves; in the ſecond Propoſition, the ſame Verb, with a paſſive inflexion, implies that Peter is the Object of that love.

It is not impoſſible then, but the Verbs of this new Language would have two inflexions, one active, the other paſſive. 'Tis poſſible they would not comprehend in one ſingle Verb all the various circumſtances of an action; as whether it was done with diligence, whether performed by the Author himſelf, or whether by an Inſtrument; which among the Hebrews was ſignified by the various inflexions of their Verbs. There are a hundred [Page] ſeveral ways of a Man's expreſſing himſelf, that are not eſſential, but peculiar to certain Languages. I cannot ſay whether our new Society would omit them, and ſtick only to thoſe which were eſſential, and without which they could not explain themſelves. But my deſign being only to diſplay the fundamental Rules of the Art of Speaking, I hold my ſelf obliged to enlarge only upon the laſt.

V.
What Words are neceſſary to expreſs the other Operations of the Mind.

VVE have ſeen how the two firſt Operations of the Mind are to be expreſſed, that is to ſay, our Perception and Judgment. We come now to the third, which is our Reaſoning or Argumentation. We argue, when from one or two clear and evident Propoſitions, we conclude the truth or falſity of a third Propoſition that is obſcure and diſputable. As if to prove [Page] the innocence of Milo we ſhould ſay thus: It is lawful to repel force by force, Milo, in killing Clodius, did only repel force by force; Ergo, Milo did lawfully kill Clodius. Reaſoning is but an extenſion of the ſecond Operation, and a chaining of two or more Propoſitions. It is evident we have need only of ſome ſhort words to make this connexion, as theſe Particles, then, at length, for, for aſmuch, ſeeing that, &c. Some Philoſophers will have a fourth Operation of the Mind, and they call it Method, by which they range and diſpoſe their Arguments into order. This diſpoſition and order may be expreſſed by certain Particles.

The other Actions of our Mind, by which we diſtinguiſh, divide, compare, connect, &c. are reducible to one of theſe four Operations, and are expreſſed by certain Particles, which receive different denominations, according to the difference of their office. Thoſe whoſe office it is to unite, are called Copulatives, as Et. Thoſe which divide, are called Negatives, or Adverſatives, as Not, But. Others are conditional, as [Page] If, &c. Theſe Particles do not ſignifie the Objects of our Thoughts, but ſome particular Action of the Mind, as we have ſaid before. Diſcourſe is but a connexion or continuation of ſeveral Propoſitions; and therefore Men have ſought out ways of ſignifying the connexion of ſeveral Propoſitions. Our That anſwers the [...] of the Greeks, and performs that office, as when we ſay, I know that God is juſt, 'tis evident the word That unites the two Propoſitions I know, and God is juſt; ſhowing alſo that the ſaid Propoſitions were united in our Minds. Sometimes for ſhortneſs ſake the Verb in the ſecond Propoſition is uſed in the Infinitive Mood, and 'tis one of the greateſt uſes of the Infinitive, to couple two Propoſitions in that manner.

VI.
The Conſtruction of Words, and Rules for that Conſtruction.

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HAving found all the Terms of a Language, the next thing to be conſider'd is the array or diſpoſition of thoſe Terms. If the words which comprehend a Propoſition, do not carry marks and tokens to ſignifie the connexion which they ought to have; and if we perceive not their ſcope, the diſcourſe produces no reaſonable ſenſe in the Mind of the Auditor. Among the Nouns, as we have ſaid before, ſome ſignifie the things, and others the manner of thoſe things. The firſt are called Subſtantives, the ſecond are called Adjectives. In like manner, as the Modes of Being, appertain to the Being it ſelf, the Adjectives ought to depend upon the Subſtantives, and carry the marks of their dependance. In a Propoſition, the Term that is the Attribute of it, [Page] refers to the Subject of it, and that reference ought to be expreſſed.

The Nouns of all known Languages are diſtinguiſhed by different Terminations, in two Genders: The firſt is called the Maſculine, the ſecond the Feminine. The inconſtancy of cuſtom is very ſtrange in this diſtribution, ſometimes the Gender has been determined by the Sex, and the Names of Men, and every thing belonging to them, were of the Maſculine Gender. The Names of Women, and all things relating to them, were of the Feminine, with regard only to the ſignification: And another time, without conſidering either the ſignification or termination, it has given to Nouns what Gender it pleaſed. Nouns Adjectives, and other words, which ſignifie rather the manners of things, than the things themſelves, have uſually two terminations; one Maſculine, the other Feminine: The Hebrew Verbs are capable of different Genders, as well as their Nouns.

The difference of Genders ſerves to denote the connexion of the members of Diſcourſe, and their dependance one [Page] upon another. Adjectives have always the ſame Gender with their Subſtantives; that is to ſay, if the Noun Subſtantive be Maſculine, the Adjective has a Maſculine Termination; and it is that Termination that ſhows to which it belongs. When a Thing is multiplied, its manners of being are multiplied alſo; and therefore the Adjectives are likewiſe to follow the Number of their Subſtantives, whether Singular or Plural. Verbs have two Numbers like the Nouns: In the Singular, they imply that the Subject of the Propoſition is ſingle: In the Plural, they imply a plurality in the Subject: And therefore Verbs are to be put in the ſame Number with the Noun that is the Subject of the Propoſition, whether it be expreſſed or underſtood.

Men are ſometimes ſo intent upon things, that they do not reflect upon their Names, nor regard what is their Gender, or what is their Number: They regulate their diſcourſe by the things: They place the Verb in the Plural, though it agree with a Noun of the Singular Number, becauſe they [Page] look upon the Noun collectively, and importing an Idea of Plurality; as in Virgil, Pars Merſi tenuere ratem, for Pars Merſa tenuit ratem; becauſe without reſpect to the word Pars, which is of the Feminine Gender and Singular Number, he ſpeaks of Men, which are the Maſculine and Plural Number. So in French at Six of the clock we ſay, Il eſt ſix heures, conſidering the ſix hours as a determined point of time. Sometimes we omit, or neglect a word, that thoſe to whom we ſpeak may ſupply it, as in Latin where it is ſaid Triſte Lupus ſtabulis, the word negotium is underſtood.

Figures, are extraordinary ways of ſpeaking. There are Figures of Rhetorick, and Figures of Grammar: Rhetorical Figures expreſs the commotions and violent agitations of the Mind, in our paſſions; or form an agreeable cadence. Figures Grammatical are uſed in conſtruction when we digreſs from ordinary Rules, as in this manner of expreſſion we now mention, which by the Grammarians is called Syllepſis, or Conceptio, becauſe in that, we conceive [Page] the ſenſe otherwiſe than is imported by the words, and ſo the conſtruction is made accordingly. Sometimes we may make uſe of different expreſſions which give the ſame Idea, ſo that 'tis indifferent which of them we uſe, as Dare claſſibus auſtros, or Dare claſſes auſtris: And when of theſe two ways of ſpeaking, we make choice of that which is leaſt uſed, we call it Hypallage, or Immutation.

CHAP. III.

I.
We muſt expreſs all the principal Idea's or Images that are formed in our Mind.

VVHen all the Images that are formed in the Mind of the Speaker, are not legible and plain, his Diſcourſe is imperfect. When we ſpeak [Page] therefore, it is neceſſary that every one of thoſe Idea's which we deſire to communicate, have ſome ſign or other to repreſent it in our Diſcourſe. But we muſt obſerve likewiſe, that there are words which have the power of ſignifying ſeveral things, and are able, beſides their principal Idea's, to awaken many others.

Nouns, in Languages that admit of different Caſes, do ſignifie at the ſame time both the things and their references, as is ſaid before. Verbs have a power of ſignifying a whole Propoſition, the Subject, Attribute, and Copula. When all our Idea's are expreſſed with their connexion, 'tis not poſſible to underſtand all that we think, unleſs we give our thoughts ſuch ſigns as are neceſſary: For which reaſon, they ſpeak moſt clearly and intelligibly, who ſpeak moſt ſimply, and moſt according to the natural order and impreſſions upon their Mind.

'Tis true, that Diſcourſe is tedious, where we give to every thing that we deſire to ſignifie, particular terms; 'tis tyreſome to the hearer, if he has but common [Page] capacity. Beſides, our ardour and impatience to communicate our thoughts, will not endure ſo great a number of words: When it is poſſible, we chuſe rather to explain our ſelves by a ſingle word, and do therefore ſelect ſuch terms as may excite ſeveral Idea's, and by conſequence ſupply the place of words; and we retrench ſuch, as being omitted, cannot produce obſcurity. The Rule to be obſerved, is, to have a particular regard to the capacity of the perſon to whom we ſpeak; if his parts be but indifferent, we muſt ſpeak every thing expreſly, and leave nothing to his divination.

The Ellipſis or retrenchment of ſome part of our Diſcourſe, is a Grammatical Figure, as in this Latin Expreſſion, Paucis te volo, in which theſe words, verbis alloqui, are left out. This Figure is very common in the Oriental Languages: The People of thoſe Countries being hot, and quick, their ardour and vehemence will not permit them to ſpeak any thing in terminis that may be as well underſtood. The French Language uſes not this kind of Figure [Page] ſo frequently, nor indeed any other of the Grammatical Figures: It affects clearneſs and perſpicuity, and therefore as near as poſſible, expreſſes every thing in the ſimpleſt and moſt natural order.

When we ſpeak, we ought particularly to conſider the principal things, and make choice for them of ſuch Expreſſions, as may make deepeſt impreſſions in the Mind of the Hearer, either by the multitude of Idea's they contain, or otherwiſe. A Painter draws the principal Lines of his Picture groſs, and then heightens it with his colours; in the mean time ſweetning and refining his other ſtrokes, that their ſoftneſs and obſcurity may ſet off the luſtre of the other. Trifling things, that are not eſſential to Diſcourſe, ſhould be mentioned by the By: 'Twould ſhow great defect of judgment to dilate upon them; it would divert the Reader, and take off his Mind from that which is more material. There are two ways (and thoſe very different) of tranſgreſſing in our choice of Expreſſions: The one is, when we are too diffuſe and [Page] prodigal; the other, when we are too ſparing and dry. The laſt repreſents only the carkaſs of things; and are like the firſt Touches in a Picture, by which the Painter marks only the places where he deſigns the Eyes, Mouth, Ears, &c. The firſt by its ſecundity and redundance perplexes as much on the other ſide. A juſt temperament is to be obſerved therefore. When the Painter has perfected his neceſſary ſtrokes, all that he adds afterwards does but ſpoil what he did before. Words that are ſuperfluous, do but render the neceſſary more obſcure, and hinder their impreſſion; they tyre the Ear, and never reach the Memory.

Omne ſupervacuum pleno de pectore manat.

Politeneſs conſiſts partly in a ſtrict retrenchment of unneceſſary words, which are as it were the Excrements of Diſcourſe: A thing is poliſh'd, when the little rugged particles are taken away with the File, and the ſurface made ſmooth and even. This repetition of words, which ſerves only to [Page] lengthen out diſcourſe, and tyre the Reader, is called by the Grammarians Tautology. When diſcourſe is fill'd up with unneceſſary and ſuperfluous words, it is called Periſſology. Nevertheleſs we are not obliged to ſuch frugality, that we ſhould be affraid to add one word more than is neceſſary, as when in Latin we ſay vivere vitam, auribus audire: This is an Elegancy ſometimes, and called a Pleonaſmus, expreſſing a vehemency in us, and a greater certainty in the thing.

II.
What ought to be the order or diſpoſition of Words.

AS to the ordering of Words, and the Rules to be obſerved in ranging a Diſcourſe, Natural Light directs us ſo clearly, that no Man can be ignorant. We cannot conceive the ſenſe of a diſcourſe, if we do not underſtand the matter of it firſt.

[Page] Natural order requires therefore, that in every Propoſition the Noun that ſignifies the Subject of it, be placed firſt: If it be accompanied with an Adjective, that the Adjective be put after it: That the Attribute be placed after the Verb that couples the Subject with the Attribute: That the Particles which denote the reference betwixt one thing and another be inſerted betwixt them: That the Words which make the connexion may be found betwixt the two Propoſitions.

And this, as near as we can, is the Natural Order to be commonly obſerv'd in Diſcourſe. I ſay commonly, becauſe in ſome caſes we may tranſgreſs with advantage; and this tranſgreſſion is an ornament among the Grammarians, and a Figure called Hyperbaton: Of which ſort Virgil has one in theſe Verſes:

Furit immiſſis Vulcanus habenis

Tranſtra per & Remos.

The Prepoſition per being out of its natural place.

When we reject a word to the end [Page] of a Propoſition, without which word the ſenſe of the Propoſition is imperfect, the interruption which the Reader receives, makes him more attentive; his deſire of underſtanding it grows more vehement and ardent, and his impatience makes his conception the clearer. Beſides, this little tranſgreſſion does many times make the Propoſition ſtrong and intellible; for the Reader, to underſtand the ſenſe of it, being obliged to meditate and conſider all the parts together, that conſideration impreſſes him the more. For this reaſon no doubt the Romans and the Greeks did frequently put the Verb at the end of the Propoſition, and having the authority of cuſtom, it is not altogether to be blamed: But he who intends to write clearly and ſimply, muſt obſerve Natural Order as much as in him lies: I ſay as much as in him lies, becauſe ſometimes we are obliged to tranſgreſs, to avoid the concurrence of certain rough words that will not admit of conjunction.

This array and diſpoſition of words, is well worth our ſerious application: And [Page] we may affirm, that it is by this Art of well placing their words, that thoſe excellent Orators have diſtinguiſhed themſelves from the multitude. For words being not made by the Orator, but natural to every body, 'tis only the faculty of ranging them well, and inducing them properly, that belongs to them, and pronounces them Orators.

Dixeris egregiè, notum ſi callida verbum

Reddiderit junctura novum—

I ſpeak not here of that diſpoſition of words, which renders a Diſcourſe harmonious, but of that which renders it clear. Clearneſs without doubt depends much upon Natural Order; and whatever interrupts that Order, perplexes our Diſcourſe. But there are many Errours oppoſed to this Natural Order, and by conſequence to that clearneſs that ought to be obſerved. The firſt is the Hyperbaton, or too bold and frequent tranſpoſition of words. Our Language is ſo great a Lover of clearneſs, that it admits none of thoſe tranſgreſſions. [Page] It would not be Elegant to ſay, There is no man, who more than he, may juſtly promiſe himſelf glory: We are rather to ſay, There is no man, who more juſtly than he, may promiſe himſelf glory. A ſecond Vice conſiſts in the multitude and huddle of words, when we expreſs our thoughts by long and tedious circumlocutions, or inſert words that are altogether unneceſſary, as thus: In this, many people do continually and wonderfully abuſe their leiſure: This Expreſſion is confuſed, and it would be much better to cut off what is ſuperfluous, reducing it to theſe terms: In this, many abuſe their leiſure. Another defect is, when we do not exactly obſerve the Rules of Syntax or Conſtruction. Other terms there are, whoſe ſignification being vagous and indefinite, cannot be determined but by their relation to ſome other term. When we make uſe of ſuch terms, and do not ſignifie their reference, we make our Propoſitions doubtful and equivocal. As if I ſhould ſay, He always loved ſuch a perſon in his affliction; it would be equivocal, becauſe the Reader would [Page] not be able to determin to whom the Pronoun his related, whether to the perſon who loved, or the perſon in affliction; which fault would be very conſiderable. There is another thing alſo, that is a great enemy to clearneſs, and that is, when our Expreſſions ſeem to look one way, and are intended another, as in this Anſwer of the Oracle: ‘Aiote, Aeacida, Romanos vincere poſſe.’ Pyrrhus, the Son of Aeacus, to whom this Anſwer was addreſſed, underſtood it thus, O Son of Aeacus, I ſay you may overcome the Romans: Whereas it was meant, that the Romans ſhould overcome him. This defect is called by the Greeks, Amphibologia. Beſides theſe, long Parentheſes, and too frequent, are neither decent nor convenient, as may be obſerved too often in ſeveral Authors.

III.
How we may expreſs the Paſsions and Motions of our Mind.

[Page]

ALL that paſſes in our Minds, is either action or paſſion. We have ſeen already which way we may expreſs our actions: Let us now ſee what Nature dictates to ſignifie our paſſions, that is, to ſignifie the eſteem, contempt, love, or hatred we bear to things, which ſhould be the objects of our thoughts and our affections. Our Diſcourſe is imperfect, unleſs it carry with it the marks of the Motions of our Will: It reſembles our Mind (whoſe Image it ought to bear) no more than a dead Carkaſs reſembles a living Body. To reſolve therefore, what our new Men would be obliged to do to expreſs their paſſions, let us ſee what we our ſelves ſhould do, had we the ſame parts in that Comedy.

There are Names which have two [Page] Idea's: That which may be called the principal Idea, repreſents the thing ſignified. The other (which may be termed the acceſſory) repreſents it as inveſted with ſuch and ſuch circumſtances. For example, the word Lyar implies a perſon reprehended for not ſpeaking the truth; but it imports likewiſe that the perſon reprehended is eſteemed an ill perſon, one who has cunningly or maliciouſly concealed the truth, and therefore deſerves our hatred and contempt.

Theſe ſecond Idea's, which we have called acceſſories, are annexed to the Names of things, and to their principal Idea's, in this manner: When cuſtom has obtained, that we ſpeak with certain terms of what we eſteem, theſe terms do inſtantly aſſume an Idea of Grandeur: In ſo much that a perſon no ſooner makes uſe of thoſe terms, but we conceive he has an eſteem for thoſe things of which he ſpeaks. When we ſpeak in paſſion, the air of our looks, the tone of our voice, and ſeveral other circumſtances, are ſufficient to ſignifie our commotion. And the very words, [Page] of which we make uſe upon thoſe occaſions, may afterwards of themſelves renew the Idea of thoſe commotions: As when we have often ſeen one of our Friends in a certain habit, the ſame ſort of habit is capable of reviving the Idea of our Friend. All proper Names of Natural things have their acceſſory Idea's, but they are ſmutty and obſcene: For looſe and debauched people ſpeaking of theſe things in an unuſual and immodeſt way, the foul images of their thoughts, are annexed to the very words; and therefore we may take up the ſame complaint, that was long ſince made by a wiſe Pagan, and ſay, Honeſta nomina perdidimus.

So then, the words themſelves contracting acceſſory Idea's that repreſent the things, and the manner in which thoſe things are conceived, our new Gentlemen would have no trouble to invent new words to ſignifie theſe acceſſory Idea's. It would plainly appear, that in their new Language there would be terms ſufficient to expreſs the different Motions, as the love, hatred, eſteem, contempt, &c. of the Speaker. And [Page] moreover (as we ſhall demonſtrate hereafter) our Paſſions do often deſcribe themſelves in our Diſcourſe, and form their own Characters without ſtudy or Art.

We have ſeen what Men are obliged to do of neceſſity, to ſignifie their thoughts; let us now ſee what depends upon their choice. Having all of us one and the ſame Nature, (be the Language that we ſpeak what it will) we follow all thoſe Rules which we have ſhown to be Natural, and Eſſential to the Art of Speaking. But it is yet in our power to chuſe, among the infinite variety of words, what we think good; and this liberty is it that has changed all the ancient Languages, and does ſtill refine or impair them every day.

Diverſity of Languages is incommodious, and a great impediment to Society and Trade. Some perſons have anciently propoſed to make an Univerſal Language, which might be learnt in a ſhort time, and be common to the whole World. I conceive the great Secret of thoſe Undertakers lay in making that Language to conſiſt of few [Page] words: They would have had every thing expreſſed by one ſingle term, and that term, with ſome little alteration, ſhould have ſignified all other things that had reference to it. They would have made all their Nouns indeclinable, denoting their different caſes by Particles, and their three Genders by three Terminations. They would have had but two Conjugations, one to ſignifie the active, and the other the paſſive: Nor ſhould their Tenſes have had different Terminations inſtead of Pronouns. By which the whole Grammar of that Language might have been quickly and eaſily learned.

CHAP. IV.

I.
Cuſtom is the Maſter of all Language.

CUſtom is the Maſter and Soveraign Arbiter of all Languages. No [Page] Man can diſpute its Empire, as being eſtabliſhed by Neceſſity, and confirmed by Univerſal Conſent. It is of the nature of a Sign▪ to be known to thoſe who make uſe of it. Words are ſigns of thoſe Idea's to which they have been formerly joyned. It is neceſſary therefore to employ them only for the ſignification of things, whoſe ſignifications were known before by the perſons to whom we ſpeak. We might, if we pleaſe, call a Horſe a Dog, and a Dog a Horſe; but the Idea of the firſt being fixt already to the word Horſe, and the latter to the word Dog, we cannot tranſpoſe them, nor take the one for the other, without an entire confuſion to the Converſation of Mankind. It is ridiculous fantaſticalneſs, not to follow thoſe Modes which long Cuſtom has eſtabliſhed: And it is little leſs than ſtupidity, when we ſpeak, to leave the ordinary Methods, and deliver our thoughts in dark obſolete terms, when we deſire to impart them.

'Tis the ſame thing with us in reſpect of Language, as in reſpect of Habit. Some People puſh on the Modes to the [Page] higheſt extremity: Others with as much eagerneſs and vanity oppoſe themſelves againſt them. Some People affect ſuch terms and expreſſions as are modern or new: Others, digging into the Dialects of their Great Grandfathers, will not ſpeak a word now, that was not in uſe two hundred years ſince. Both of them are too blame. When Cuſtom affords not terms proper to expreſs what we have to ſay, it is lawful to uſe ſuch words as are almoſt antiquated and loſt: Nay a Man is excuſable, if to make himſelf underſtood, he coins a new word: In that caſe we may blame the barrenneſs of our Language, but muſt commend the fecundity of his Wit that was able to ſupply it. Datur venia verborum novitati, obſcuritati rerum ſervienti. With this proviſo notwithſtanding, that the word be a la mode, and not dreſs'd up in a ſound quite differing from the uſual words.

II.
There is a good and a bad Cuſtom, and three ways to diſtinguiſh them.

[Page]

VVHen we advance Cuſtom to the Throne, and make it Soveraign Arbiter of all Languages, we do not intend to put the Scepter into the hands of the Populace. There is a good, and there is a bad Cuſtom: And as good Men are the propereſt Examples to thoſe who deſire to live well; ſo the practice of good Speakers is the fitteſt Rule for thoſe who would ſpeak well. Uſum, qui ſit Arbiter dicendi (ſays Quintil.) vocamus conſenſum eruditorum, ſicut vivendi, conſenſum bonorum. But it is no hard matter to diſcern betwixt the good and the bad; betwixt the depraved Language of the common people, and the noble and refin'd Expreſſions of the Gentry, whoſe condition and merits have advanced them above the other.

[Page] And to make this diſtinction, there are three ways. The firſt is Experience: We are to obſerve thoſe who ſpeak well; we are to conſider the manner of their expreſſions, what latitude they give to their words, what it is that they affect, and what it is they avoid: If we cannot arrive at their converſation, we have Books, where Men ſpeak commonly with more exactneſs, having time and leiſure to correct ſuch improprieties as ſlip unavoidably in diſcourſe; for the Memory being full of ill words continually ſounded by the common people, 'tis very hard to be ſo conſtantly upon our guard, as not to let ſome of them fall from us in converſation before we are aware. When we write, we review what we have done, and expunge ſuch expreſſions as we find unapt or impertinent.

The ſecond way to diſcriminate betwixt good Cuſtoms and bad, is Reaſon. All Languages have the ſame Fundamentals, which Men would eſtabliſh, if by accident (like that we have pretended) they were obliged to invent a new Language. By the Notion we [Page] have given of theſe Fundamentals, we may make our ſelves Maſters and Judges of any Language, and condemn the Laws of Cuſtom where they are oppoſite to the Laws of Nature and Reaſon. Though we have no right to eſtabliſh new words, we have liberty to reject ſuch as are bad. Languages are never refin'd, 'till Men begin to canvaſs and examin them; 'till ſuch Expreſſions are exploded, as corrupt Uſe has introduced; but thoſe are not to be found out by the ordinary people: It muſt be learned and ſagacious Men, and Men that have exact knowledge of this Art. When juſt and proper Expreſſions are uſed, a Language may be ſaid to refine, and the diſcontinuance from ſpeaking ill fixes the cuſtom of ſpeaking well.

Yet in the eſtabliſhment of Language, Reaſon (as we have ſhown in the precedent Chapters) preſcribes but very few Laws; the reſt depend upon the Will and conſent of Men. In ſpeaking, the whole World propoſes but one end; but becauſe we may arrive at that end by different ways, the liberty of chuſing them as we pleaſe, cauſes difference [Page] in the manner of expreſſion, even in the ſame Language. Nevertheleſs, notwithſtanding the liberty Authors have taken in the formation of Language, we may obſerve a certain uniformity, and conſtant regularity running quite thorough all our Expreſſions. Men do commonly adhere to ſuch cuſtoms as they have formerly embraced. Wherefore, though words depend much upon the fancy and capriccio of Men, yet, as is ſaid before, we may diſcern a certain uniformity in Cuſtom.

If we know then, that words of ſuch a ſound, are of ſuch a Gender; when we doubt of the Gender of another word, we muſt compare it with words of the ſame termination, whoſe Gender is known: And ſo in Verbs, if I would know (in the French Language) whether the third perſon of the Preterperfect Tenſe of a propoſed Verb be to end in a, I go no farther than to the Infinitive, and if that ends in er, my buſineſs is done; becauſe 'tis evident all Verbs of that Language, ending in er in the Infinitive, do end with a in the Tenſe and perſon aforeſaid.

[Page] This way of underſtanding the Cuſtom of a Language, by comparing its expreſſions, and conſidering the proportion which they bear one to the other, is called Analogie, which is a Greek word, and ſignifies proportion. By means of their Analogie, it is that Languages have been fix'd: By virtue of Analogie Grammarians have found out their Rules, and the good Cuſtoms of a Language; have compos'd their Grammars, which, if well made, are very uſeful, as furniſhing us with Rules in ſhort, which we ſhould be obliged to find out by Analogie with infinite labour and diligence.

Of all the three ways for the diſcovery of good Cuſtom, Experience is the beſt. Cuſtom is always Maſter: Our choice muſt be of the moſt reaſonable expreſſions, and by that choice Languages are purged of their impurities. But when Cuſtom affords but one ſingle word or phraſe, to expreſs what we are obliged to ſay; Reaſon permits that we give place to Cuſtom, though it be contrary to Reaſon; nor are we to be blam'd at all, if the expreſſion [Page] be bad. This was the occaſion of that old and true Maxim among the Lawyers, Communis error facit jus. Analogie is not the Miſtreſs of Language; ſhe is not come down from Heaven to give Laws in that caſe; ſhe deſcribes only the Laws of Cuſtom. Non eſt lex loquendi, ſed obſervatio. Quintil.

To perfectly underſtand the Cuſtoms of a Language, we muſt inform our ſelves of the Genius, and obſerve the Idioms, or peculiar Manners of Speaking which belong to it. The Genius of a Language conſiſts in certain qualites, which thoſe who ſpeak do affect to give to their Stile. The Genius of the French Language is perſpicuity and livelineſs; in which they differ much from the Eaſtern Nations, who do rather prefer myſterious and enigmatical expreſſions, that may find work for the thought. Idioms diſtinguiſh Languages one from the other, as well as words. To ſpeak French, it is not enough to make uſe of French words; for if we jumble them together, or diſpoſe them as a German would do the words of his own Language, we ſhould [Page] rather ſpeak Dutch than French. We call Hebraiſms, the Idioms of Hebrew; Helleniſms, the Proprieties of Greek; and ſo of the reſt. 'Tis an Hebraiſm to ſay Vanity of Vanities, inſtead of The greateſt of all Vanities; as alſo to ſignifie diſtribution, by repetition of the ſame word, as in this Sentence: Noah put into the Ark ſeven, and ſeven of all Creatures, to ſignifie that Noah put into the Ark ſeven pairs or couples of all Creatures. 'Tis an Helleniſm to uſe the Infinitive inſtead of a Noun; and that Idiom is frequent in our Language, which has great affinity with the Greek. Expreſſions obſolete, rejected by new cuſtom, and to be found only in ancient Authors, are called Archaiſms. Every Province has its Idiom, which it is no eaſie matter to quit. Titus Livius, an Author of great Eloquence and Purity, could not cleanſe his Stile from the impurities of Padua, where he was born. Aſinius Pollio tells us: In Tito Livio, mirae facundiae viro, puto ineſſe quandam Patavinitatem.

III.
Words are not to be uſed but in their proper ſignification, and to expreſs the Idea to which Cuſtom has annexed them.

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SInce then we are to ſubmit to the Tyranny of Cuſtom, we muſt follow her Laws, and obſerve them ſtrictly. The firſt thing to be conſider'd, are the particular words, whoſe peculiar Idea's are to be inquired after exactly, and not imployed but in their proper ſignifications, that is to ſay, to ſignifie exactly the Idea's to which cuſtom has affixed them. Beſides which, we are to have regard to the acceſſory Idea's that belong to them, otherwiſe we ſhall be in danger of miſtaking, and give a low and abject Idea to things which perhaps we deſign to illuſtrate.

Some are of opinion, that to ſpeak well, it is ſufficient to make uſe only of ſuch words as are authoriſed by [Page] cuſtom, as we have ſaid before; but we muſt alſo take our words in the preciſe ſignification that cuſtom affords. To draw the Picture of the King, 'tis not enough that we draw a Face with two Eyes, a Noſe, and a Mouth; but we muſt expreſs the Features, and particular Lineaments of the Kings Face.

Some People fancy themſelves Eloquent, if they can but throng their Memories with Phraſes, huddled together out of the Works of ſuch Perſons as are renowned for their Eloquence; but they are miſtaken, and thoſe who take that courſe ſhall never be exact. They accommodate their Matter to their Phraſe, without conſidering in what place, or upon what occaſion it was uſed by the Author. So that their Stile becomes wild and extravagant, like a Grotteſque Picture, patch'd up of Shells of a thouſand ſeveral colours, and other whimſies, that have not the leaſt natural relation to the Figure repreſented.

Phraſes in Diſcourſe, like patches in a Cloke, are great ſigns of poverty of the Maſter: For they ſerve only to fill [Page] up void places, and he that abounds with them, ſhall never write ſhort.

IV.
We are to conſider whether the Idea's of the Words we joyn, may be joyned as properly.

IT is not enough that we make choice of proper and familiar terms, unleſs their connexion be reaſonable. Without that, our Diſcourſe will have no more form, than the Letters of a Preſs thrown by accident upon a Table. For though the Idea of every word ſeparately and alone may be ſufficiently clear, yet joyned together, they may be Nonſenſe, becauſe the Idea's to which they are applied by cuſtom, may be incompatible. Theſe two words, Square, and Round, are very good, and their Idea's intelligible: We do readily underſtand what it is to be Square, and what to be Round: But if we ſhould ſay a Square Round, no body could comprehend [Page] it. If I ſhould ſay, ſuch a one was ſhod with his gloves, who could underſtand it? yet ſhod, and gloves, are words that every Man knows. If when a Man gets up, I ſhould bid him Deſcend upon his Horſe, the ſtanders by would think me a Sot. When the repugnance betwixt the Idea's is not ſo manifeſt, and the connexion of the terms not ſo palpably condemned by cuſtom, as in theſe two expreſſions, ſhod with gloves, and deſcended upon his Horſe, many people are not diſguſted. Theſe following words being ſpoke in company before ſeveral perſons, moſt of them would be taken with their noiſe, and not perceive that they carried in them nothing of ſenſe or ſignification: Noble and brave Battels that carry high Deſtinies beyond the Seas. The words are good, and intelligible of themſelves, but applied in that manner, they ſignifie nothing.

Accumulation of honours, undermines their foundation.

Who can tell what the Author ſays in that Verſe? The Idea's of accumulating [Page] and undermining are incompatible, and 'tis not poſſible to reconcile them. We know what the Poet intended, but he was out in his Expreſſion. This is rather our want of Judgment, than ignorance of Language; ſo that to ſpeak exactly, we muſt ſtudy as well to adapt our Judgment as Tongue.

For the Order to be given to words, when they are joyned together, our Ears do inſtruct us ſo ſenſibly what Rules are to be obſerved, that we have no need to mention them here. Cuſtom does not always obſerve Natural Order in certain words. It requires that ſome be placed firſt, and others follow at a diſtance. The Ear being uſed to theſe kinds of array, perceives the leaſt tranſgreſſion, and is offended at it. We are more diſturbed at a thing ungrateful to our Senſes, than to our Reaſon: Nonſenſe, or an Errour in arguing, would be leſs abominable, than if a Man ſhould tranſpoſe his words, and ſay Head my, for my Head. And this is a fault ſo viſible, 'tis not worth an admoniſhment.

A Diſcourſe is pure, when we follow [Page] the beſt Cuſtom, when we uſe what it approves, and reject what it condemns. The Vices oppoſed to this Purity, are Barbariſms, and Soleciſms. The Grammarians do not agree about the definition of theſe two Vices. Monſieur de Vaugelas applies Barbariſm only to Words, Phraſes, and Particles; and Soleciſm to Declenſions, Conjugations, and Conſtruction. We commit a Barbariſm in uſing a word for Engliſh that is not Engliſh, in uſing an Engliſh word improperly; in uſing an Adverb for a Prepoſition; in uſing a Phraſe improperly: 'Tis a Barbariſm likewiſe to uſe or omit ſuch Particles as are unneceſſary or convenient. And the ſame abſurdity committed in Declenſion, Conjugation, or Conſtruction, is a Soleciſm.

Monſieur de Vaugelas has diſtinguiſhed very well, betwixt the clearneſs we mentioned in the precedent Chapter, and the purity we have mentioned in this. A pure Stile is that which Quintil. calls Emendata Oratio: A clear Stile is that which he calls Dilucida Oratio. And theſe are ſo different (ſays Monſieur de [Page]Vaugelas) that there are thouſands of people, who write clearly and intelligibly in all ſort of matters, (that is to ſay, explain themſelves ſo, as the meaneſt capacity may conceive what they intend) and yet nothing more impure than their Stile. On the other ſide, there are thoſe who write purely and correctly, without either Barbariſm or Soleciſm; yet their words are ranged ſo ill, their Periods ſo ill ordered, and their Stile ſo perplex'd and confus'd, they are not, without great difficulty, to be underſtood.

V.
'Tis Choice of Expreſsion that makes a Man Elegant.

THe beſt Expreſſions grow low and degenerate, when profan'd by the Populace, and applied to mean things. The uſe they make of them, infecting them with a mean and abject Idea, cauſes, that we cannot uſe them without [Page] out ſullying and defiling thoſe things, which are ſignified by them. Vulgar Expreſſions are carefully avoided by thoſe who write politely; and caution, as to them, is the occaſion of continual alteration of Languages.

Ut Sylvae foliis pronos mutantur in Annos,

Prima cadunt; ita verborum vetus interit aetas,

Et Juvenum ritu, florent modo nata, vigentque.

Perſons of Quality and Learning, endeavour to advance themſelves above the Vulgar, and therefore avoiding to ſpeak like them, will not make uſe of Expreſſions that they have ſpoiled. Perſons of Condition are readily imitated by every body, ſo that in a ſhort time, thoſe Words which are rejected by the Rich or the Learned, are rejected by every body, and forced from the Court and the City, to retire into the Countrey, and become the Language of the Peaſants.

To be ſhort: Beſides exact keeping of the Laws of Cuſtom, and the care of [Page] making uſe only of pure ways of Speaking; it muſt be confeſſed, that that which advanced thoſe Perſons, who are moſt Eminent for their Eloquence, was a certain Art and Felicity they had in finding out rich and ingenious Expreſſions to ſignifie their thoughts. It requires no great care nor pains to avoid the Cenſure of the Critique; but we cannot pleaſe every body without extraordinary fortune. Who can find fault with theſe following words? 'Tis to Cadmus that Greece is indebted for the Invention of Letters: 'Tis to him ſhe is indebted for the Art of Writing. Yet I have read the ſame thing expreſſed with more fancy and charm.

THE SECOND PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.

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CHAP. I.

I.
No Language is rich enough to ſupply us with terms capable of expreſsing all the different faces upon which the ſame thing may be repreſented: We muſt have recourſe to certain manners of Speaking, called Tropes, whoſe Nature and Invention ſhall be explained in this Chapter.

THe Mind of Man is ſo fertile, all the Languages in the World are too barren to expreſs its fecundity. It turns [Page] things ſo many ways, and repreſents things with ſo many different faces, that 'tis impoſſible to contrive words for all the forms of our thoughts: The ordinary terms are not always adequate, they are either too ſtrong or too weak. Wherefore to expreſs our meaning exactly, we are many times obliged to the ſame addreſs we are glad to make uſe of, when we know not the Man's Name of whom we deſire to ſpeak; we do it by ſuch ſigns and circumſtances, as by their connexion to his perſon, do ſtir up and excite that Idea, which we could not ſignifie by his proper Name; that is, we deſcribe him as a Souldier, Magiſtrate, Dwarf, &c.

Crine ruber, niger ore, brevis pede, lumine laeſus.

Thoſe Objects that have reference and connexion betwixt them, have their Idea's alſo in ſome manner connex'd. We no ſooner ſee a Souldier, but War occurs immediately to our Memory: We no ſooner ſee a Man, but we remember all thoſe whom we have [Page] obſerv'd to reſemble him. So the Idea of a thing may be excited at the naming of any of thoſe things, with which it has any reſemblance.

When to expreſs a thing, we make uſe of an improper word, which Cuſtom has applied to another Subject, that way of explaining our ſelves is figurative; and the words ſo tranſported from their proper ſignification, and applied to other things than what they naturally mean, are called Tropes, or Changes of Cuſtom, as the Greek Verb [...] imports. Theſe Tropes do not ſignifie the things to which they are applied, otherwiſe than by reaſon of the connexion and reference that thoſe things have with the things whoſe Names they do properly bear: So that we may reckon, there are as many ſort of Tropes, as there are different references; but it has pleaſed the Maſters of this Art to eſtabliſh but few.

II.
A Liſt of the moſt conſiderable Tropes.

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METONYMIA.

I Place this Metonymie at the head of the Tropes, becauſe it comprehends ſeveral ſorts of them, and is the moſt capacious of them all. Metonymia, in Latin Tranſnominatio, is the putting off one Name for another; and as oft as we uſe any name or word to expreſs a thing, beſides that which is proper to it, we expreſs our ſelves by a Metonymie. As if we ſhould ſay: Caeſar ravaged the Gauls: All the World reads Cicero: Paris is allarm'd. It would be plain we intended, Caeſar's Army ravaged the Gauls: The World read Cicero's Works: And, That the People in Paris are allarm'd. There is ſo ſtrong relation betwixt a General and his Army, betwixt an Author and his Works, betwixt a Town and its Inhabitants; [Page] that we cannot think of the one, but the Idea of the other preſents it ſelf inſtantly to our Minds; which is the cauſe, that this changing of Names produces nothing of confuſion.

SYNECDOCHE.

Synecdoche is a kind of Metonymie, where we put the name of the whole for a part, or the name of a part for the whole: As if we ſhould ſay Europe for France, or France for Europe: The Nightingal for Birds in general, or the Bird for the Nightingal: The Tree for a particular Tree. If we ſhould ſay, The Plague is in England, when perhaps it is only in London: Or, That it is in London, when it is all over the Kingdom. If ſpeaking particularly of the Nightingal, or of an Oak, we ſhould ſay, This is a fine Bird, This is a fine Tree. So that by the benefit of a Metonymie we have liberty to uſe the name of a part for the whole, or the whole for a part.

We refer alſo to this Trope, the liberty we take to put a certain for an uncertain Number: We may ſay, This [Page] Houſe has an hundred fair Avenues, when perhaps it has more or leſs: And to make our reckoning round and compleat, if a Man be ninety nine years old and odd months, we may ſay he is an hundred, without any great Soleciſm.

ANTONOMASIA.

Antonomaſia is a ſort of Metonymie, when we apply the proper Name of one thing to ſeveral others; or è contrario, the Names of ſeveral things to one. Sardanapalus was a voluptuous King: Nero a cruel Emperour. By this Figure Antonomaſia, we call any voluptuous perſon a Sardanapalus, and any cruel perſon a Nero. The words Orator, Poet, Philoſopher, are common words, and to be given to all of the reſpective Profeſſions; yet they are applied to particular perſons, as if they were only proper to them: When we ſpeak of Cicero, we ſay the Orator gives us this Precept in his Rhetorick. The Poet has given us the Deſcription of a Tempeſt in the Firſt of his Aeneids, intending Virgil. The Philoſopher has prov'd it in [Page] his Metaphyſicks, meaning Ariſtotle. In every condition, that Man who excels the reſt of his Brethren, may appropriate the Title of his Profeſſion. We cannot talk of Eloquence, but Cicero falls naturally into our thoughts, and by conſequence the Idea of Cicero, and Orator, are ſo cloſe and inſeparable, we cannot mention the one, but the other will follow.

METAPHORA.

Tropes are words tranſported from their proper ſignifications, and applied to things that they ſignifie but obliquely. So that all Tropes are Metaphors or Tranſlations, according to the Etymology of the Word. And yet by the Figure Antonomaſia we give the name of Metaphor to a particular Trope, and according to that definition, a Metaphor is a Trope by which we put a ſtrange and remote word for a proper word, by reaſon of its reſemblance with the thing of which we ſpeak. We call the King the Head of His Kingdom; becauſe as the Head commands [Page] the Members of the Natural, ſo the King commands the Members of the Politick Body. The Holy Scripture, very Elegantly to ſignifie a great Drought, ſays, The Heavens were Braſs. When a Houſe looks pleaſantly, we ſay, and not improperly, It ſmiles upon us; becauſe it in ſome meaſure reſembles the agreeableneſs that appears in the countenance of a perſon when he ſmiles.

ALLEGORIA.

An Allegory is a continuation of ſeveral Metaphors. There is an excellent Example of a perfect Allegory in the Poem of S. Proſper, Part. 2. chap. 14. where he ſpeaks of Divine Grace.

By this the Soul of Man becomes a Soil,

Fit to receive the Seed of Faith, and while

By this Divine Efflux, the drooping Mind

Is rais'd above her ſelf, that Plant doth find

Room to take root, and largely ſpread, through all

Thoſe thoughts and actions, which ſince the Fall,

[Page] Deſerve the Name of Good. To this w' are bound,

That that good Fruit, for which the Saints are crown'd,

Comes to maturity, and is not kill'd

By th' Tares of Paſſions, with which is fill'd

Depraved humane Nature: 'Tis this ſtrength

By which Faith brings forth Fruit, and at the length,

Maugre the deſp'rate Onſets of fierce luſts,

Grows up ſecure to Him in whom ſhe truſts.

This props up tender Faith from being ſtruck down,

'Till happy Perſeverance gives a Crown.

Great care muſt be taken in an Allegory, that it ends as it begins; that the Metaphors be continued, and the ſame things made uſe of to the laſt, from whence we borrowed our firſt Expreſſions; which Proſper obſerved exactly in his Metaphor from Corn. When theſe Allegories are obſcure, and the natural ſenſe of the words not preſently perceptible, they may be call'd Enigma's, as in theſe Verſes, where the Poet deſcribes [Page] the agitation and ebullition of the blood in the time of a Feaver.

Ce ſang chaud & boüillant, cette flâme liquide,

Cette ſource de vie à ce coup homicide,

Et ſon let agité, ne ſe peut repoſer

Et conſume le champ qu' elle doit arroſer.

Dan ſes canaux troubles, ſa courſe vagabonde

Porte un tribut Mortel au Roy du petit Monde.

This laſt Verſe is more particularly Enigmatical; and on a ſudden we do not perceive that he intends by the word King the Heart, as the principal part by which the Blood of the whole Body paſſes continually: It muſt firſt be conſidered, that Man is called frequently a Microcoſm of little World.

LITOTES.

Litotes, or Diminutio, is a Trope by which we ſpeak leſs than we think, as when we ſay, I cannot commend you, it implies a ſecret reproach or reprehenſion [Page] for ſomething committed that hinders us. I do not undervalue your Preſents, is as much as I accept them.

HYPERBOLE.

An Hyperbole is a Figure which repreſents things greater, leſſer, better, &c. than in reality they are. We make uſe of an Hyperbole, when our ordinary Terms being too weak or too ſtrong, carry no proportion with our Idea; and ſo fearing to ſpeak too little, we fly out and ſay too much. As if to expreſs the ſwiftneſs of a Horſe, I ſhould ſay he was ſwifter than the Wind. If the ſlowneſs of a Perſon, I ſhould ſay, His motion was ſlower than the motion of a Tortoiſe. In ſtrictneſs theſe Expreſſions are Lyes, but they are innocent Lyes, and deceive no body: For no one but underſtands what we mean, and in the precedent Examples all that is intended is only this, That one ran very faſt, and the other moved very ſlow.

IRONIA.

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An Ironie is a Trope, by which we ſpeak contrary to our thoughts, as when we ſay, ſuch a one is a very honeſt man, when we know he is notoriouſly corrupt. The tone of the Voice wherewith theſe Ironies are commonly pronounced; and the quality of the perſon to whom we give the Title, being contrary to what we ſay, undeceives the Hearer, and gives an exact notion of our thoughts.

CATACHRESIS.

Catachreſis is the freeſt Trope of them all: By it we have liberty to borrow the Name of a thing, though quite contrary to what we would ſignifie, becauſe we cannot otherwiſe expreſs it; as when we ſay a wooden Ink-horn. Reaſon demurs at the Expreſſion; but neceſſity obliges us to make uſe of it. To ride on horſe-back upon a ſtick; Equitare in arundine longa; is not ſo proper, becauſe riding does naturally preſuppoſe [Page] an Horſe, and there is great difference betwixt an Horſe and a Stick: Yet though theſe Expreſſions appear contradictory, they are eaſily underſtood.

Theſe are the moſt conſiderable of the Tropes, and to one or other of theſe, all the reſt may be reduced. I do not pretend to ſhow how we are to find them: Beſides, that Cuſtom will plentifully furniſh us, in the heat of Diſcourſe, no Man's Imagination but will ſupply him. And as in our paſſion we never want Arms, our choler directing us to whatever lyes in our way; ſo when our Imagination is ſtirr'd, we make uſe of all the Objects of our Memory to ſignifie our thoughts. There is nothing in Nature, but may ſome way or other be applied to the thing of which we ſpeak, and ſupply us with Tropes, where proper Terms are defective.

CHAP. II.

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I.
The Uſe of Tropes, and the Neceſsity of their being Clear.

THe richneſs of a Language conſiſts in its Tropes; and as the ill uſe of a Man's Wealth, is the deſtruction of his Eſtate; ſo the ill choice of Tropes occaſions a multitude of faults in Diſcourſe. 'Tis neceſſary therefore that Rules be preſcribed: And firſt great care is to be taken, that we uſe no Tropes, but where we muſt expreſs our ſelves imperfectly without them; and when we are obliged to uſe them, they muſt have two qualities; one is, they muſt be clear, and contribute to the underſtanding of what we intend, ſeeing the only uſe of them is to make us more intelligible; the other is, that [Page] they hold proportion with the Idea we deſign to delineate.

Three things hinder the perſpicuity of a Trope: The firſt is when it is too remote, and gives no preſent advantage to the Hearer, to diſcover what it is that the Speaker intends. As if we ſhould call a ſcandalous Houſe, the Syrtes of Youth. We ſhould not reach the meaning of the Metaphor, 'till we we had recollected, that the Syrtes were certain Banks of Sand (upon the African Coaſt) very dangerous. Whereas if we ſhould ſay the ſame Houſe was a Rock for Youth, what we intended to ſignifie would be obvious enough. To avoid this inconvenience, the beſt way will be to take our Metaphors from ſenſible things, and ſuch as are frequently repreſented to our Eyes, whoſe Images are eaſily apprehended without ſcrutiny or trouble. If I would deſcribe a perſon whoſe Name I had forgot, I ſhould be ridiculous to do it by dark and obſcure ſigns, that gave no ready occaſion to my Hearers to form an Idea of his perſon: But this that is a fault ſo dangerous, and ſo much to be avoided in [Page] converſation, is looked upon by ſome Authors as an Elegance, and highly affected. Some people delight to fetch their Metaphors afar off, and to take them from things unknown, to oſtentate their Learning. If they ſpeak of a Kingdom, they will be ſure to make uſe of a Synecdoche, and call it by ſome part that no body knows: The neareſt of their Tropes ſhall be fetcht out of Aſia or Africk. And he who would underſtand them, muſt inform himſelf of all the Villages, Fountains, and Mole-hills in thoſe Countries. They never mention a Man, but by the Titles of his Grand-father or Great Grand-father, and all to make a Parade of their great Skill in Antiquity. Whereas the Idea of a Trope ought to have ſuch reference and connexion with the proper word, that one cannot be mentioned, without exciting the Idea of the other: And this fault in the connexion, is the ſecond thing that renders a Trope obſcure. This connexion is either natural or artificial. I call that natural, when things ſignified by their proper, and by their metaphorical Names, have [Page] natural reſemblance, or dependance one upon the other. As when we ſay a Man has Arms of Braſs, to ſignifie the ſtrength of his Arms, we may call this reſemblance betwixt the Trope and the proper Expreſſion, natural. The artificial connexion, is that which ariſes from Cuſtom. 'Tis the cuſtom to call a rough untractable Man an Arab; 'tis an uſual term, and the frequent uſing it in that ſenſe, makes the Idea of that word Arab awake the Idea of an untractable Man. And therefore an artificial connexion is more obvious, than a natural, becauſe it is eſtabliſhed by Cuſtom.

The too frequent uſe of Tropes, is the third thing that renders them obſcure: The cleareſt and moſt perſpicuous Metaphors expreſs things but indirectly. The natural Idea of what is repreſented only by Metaphors, arrives not at the Mind without pain and reflexion, and there are few but would be willing to have that labour ſpared. Yet when we condemn this frequency of Tropes, we intend only thoſe which are extraordinary. Some there are as [Page] uſeful as natural Terms; and thoſe can never perplex our Diſcourſe. When we make uſe of Metaphorical Expreſſions, they muſt be of this latter ſort, otherwiſe our Hearers muſt be prepared to underſtand them. A Trope ought to be preceded by ſomething that hinders miſtake, and the ſequel of the Diſcourſe ought to make it appear, that we are not to ſtop at the natural Idea repreſented by the Terms which we imploy.

Unleſs we be very extravagant, and delight in not being underſtood, we will never continue a Book, or Diſcourſe, from the beginning to the end in perpetual Allegories. We cannot diſcover a Man's meaning, but when he gives us at leaſt ſome natural ſigns of it, without fallacy or equivocation. How can we tell when he is in jeſt, and when in earneſt, unleſs we have ſeen him ſerious before? How can we diſtinguiſh a Mimick from a real Fool, but by obſerving that the one is a Fool only for a time, and the other as long as he lives? When therefore we ſee an Author expreſs himſelf wholly by Metaphors, [Page] we may conclude him extravagant; unleſs there be ſome ſecret reaſon that makes him obſcure.

II.
Tropes muſt be proportioned to the Idea's we would give.

THe Uſe of Tropes is abſolutely neceſſary, becauſe many times ordinary words are deficient. If I would give the Idea of a very high Rock, the words large, high, and lofty, being given to ordinary Rocks, would afford but a ſhort and imperfect dimenſion of mine. But if I ſhould ſay, It threatned the Heavens, the Idea of Heaven (which is the higheſt thing in Nature) and the Idea of threatning (which belongs properly to people above us) would form in my Mind an Idea of ſuch an extraordinary height, as could not be expreſſed without an Hyperbole. We ſay more than we intend, for fear we ſhould ſay leſs. But theſe kind of Expreſſions are [Page] to be uſed with great caution and decorum: We muſt have a care that there be always a proportion betwixt the natural Idea of the Trope, and the thing we would explain; otherwiſe the Hearer may miſunderſtand, and take one thing for another. If ſpeaking of an indifferent low Valley, I ſhould ſay, It went as low as Hell; or of a Rock of more than ordinary height, I ſhould ſay, It touched the Skies; who would not believe I was ſpeaking of a Rock of an immenſe height, and of a bottom of a prodigious lowneſs? So that we muſt have particular regard that our Trope does not give a contrary or extravagant Idea of the thing we intend, leſt whilſt we pretend to be ſerious, we make our Auditors laugh, as in this Expreſſion, Morte Catonis Respublica caſtrata eſt.

There are thouſands of ways to correct and temper theſe extravagant Expreſſions, of which ſometimes we are forced to make uſe. If our reputation be in danger, we excuſe our ſelves, or prepare the Reader by ſome previous complement: For 'tis plain, an ill introduc'd [Page] Trope, is a ſign of an irregular Fancy: Theſe bold Expreſſions are Indications of our Judgment or Paſſion: When an Object is rare, and we think it ſo in our Minds, (whether it be for its height or profundity) we preſently are ſenſible in our ſelves of Motions tending to Eſteem or Contempt, Hatred or Love, which we expreſs by words proportioned to our Judgment and Paſſion: If therefore the Judgment we make of theſe Objects be raſh and temerarious; if our Sentiments be irrational, our Diſcourſe betrays all, and diſcovers our weakneſs. 'Tis not enough therefore, that our Tropes be ſuited to our Idea's, but they muſt quadrate among themſelves. Men are naturally Lovers of great things; and therefore Authors, who make the ſatiſfaction of their Readers the Rule and Scope of their Art, do affect great Words, high Metaphors, and bold Hyperboles, that, to be examin'd, would appear ridiculous, and even in thoſe perſons who are delighted with them, produce nothing but vain admiration. A Man of Reaſon cannot endure that [Page] Mountains and Mole-hills ſhould be confounded; that trifles ſhould be made great things, and great things trifles; and that the equality of Stile ſhould not leave it in our power, to diſcriminate betwixt things of none, and things of the moſt ſerious importance.

III.
Tropes are an Ornament to Diſcourſe.

TRopes do make a ſenſible deſcription of the thing we intend: When we call a Great Captain, The Thunderbolt of War, the Idea of Thunder informs preſently with what force, with what ſwiftneſs, with what noiſe, the ſaid Captain overcomes: Men do not commonly receive any thing into their Minds, that comes not firſt to their Senſes. To make them conceive well, we make uſe of Compariſons that are both ſenſible and pleaſant, ſuch Compariſons are eaſie to the Mind, exempting it from that ſtudy and ſerious application, that is neceſſary for the [Page] diſcovery of that which falls not under our Senſes. For this reaſon, Metaphors taken from ſenſible things, are very frequent in Scripture. The Prophets never ſpeak of God, but they deſcribe Him by things ſubject to our Senſe. They give Him Arms, and Hands, and Eyes, and deſcribe Him with Darts, Arrows, and Thunderbolts, by ſuch viſible things to intimate to the people his Spiritual and Inviſible Power. Sapientia Dei quae cum infantia noſtra Parabolis, & Similitudinibus quodammodo ludere non de dignata eſt, Prophetas voluit humano more de divinis loqui, ut hebetes hominum animi, divina & coeleſtia, terreſtrium ſimilitudine intelligerent. St. Auguſt.

A ſingle Metaphor many times expreſſes more than a long Diſcourſe. If we ſhould ſay, Sciences have corners and depths that are very unprofitable, that Metaphor would ſignifie more than could be expreſſed by many natural words in an eaſie and comprehenſible way. Beſides, by help of a Trope, we can vary and protract a Diſcourſe as we ſee occaſion. When we ſpeak long upon one Subject, and have no mind, [Page] by too frequent repetitions, to trouble the Hearers, it is the beſt way to borrow Names from ſuch things as have connexion with the things of which we ſpeak, and to expreſs our ſelves by Tropes.

CHAP. III.

I.
The Paſsions have a peculiar Language, and are expreſſed only by what we call Figures.

BEſides the proper and metaphorical Expreſſions, wherewith Cuſtom and Art ſupplies us, to ſignifie the Motions both of our Will, and our Thoughts, our Paſſions alſo have their peculiar Characters, by which they repreſent themſelves in our Diſcourſe. We ſee in a Man's Face what paſſes in his Heart; the fire in his Eyes, the [Page] wrinkles in his Brow, the paleneſs in his looks, are evidences of more than ordinary commotion. The Circumſtances of his Diſcourſe, the new and ſudden way of expreſſing himſelf, (quite contrary to his way when he was cool and in peace) are certain characters of agitation, and imply diſturbance in the perſon who ſpeaks.

Paſſion makes us conſider things otherwiſe than we do when we are calm and ſedate. It magnifies the Objects, and fixes our thoughts upon them in ſuch manner, that our thoughts are wholly employed about them; the Objects making as ſtrong an impreſſion in us, as the things themſelves. Our Paſſions do many times produce contrary effects, tranſporting the Mind, and in an inſtant carrying it through ſeveral variations: They force our conſiderations from one Object, and throw it upon another: They precipitate, interrupt, and divert it: In a word, Paſſion in a Man's Heart, has the ſame effect as the Wind in the Sea: Sometimes it forces the Waves upon the ſhore, ſometimes it hurries them back [Page] into the deep; on a ſudden it mounts them and daſhes them againſt the Sky, and preſently tumbles them down to the very Centre of the Earth.

So our words anſwer to our thoughts: The Diſcourſe of a Man that is moved, cannot be equal: Sometimes it is diffuſe, and deſcribes exactly the thing that is the Object of our Paſſion: Another time it is ſhort; his expreſſion is abrupt; twenty things ſaid at a time; twenty Interrogations; twenty Exclamations; twenty Digreſſions together; he is alter'd by a hundred little particularities, and new ways of ſignifying his mind, which ways are as different, and diſtinguiſhable from his ordinary way, as the Face of a Man is when he is angry, from his Face when he is quiet and ſerene.

Theſe ways of Speaking (which are Characters drawn by our Paſſions in our Diſcourſe) are the famous Figures mentioned by Rhetoricians, and by them defin'd, Manners of Speaking, different and remote from the ways that are ordinary and natural; that is to ſay, quite other than what we uſe, when we [Page] ſpeak without paſſion. There is nothing obſcure in this definition, that requires explication, and therefore we will go on to the Uſe and Neceſſity of theſe Figures.

III.
Figures are uſeful and neceſſary.

THree Reaſons oblige us particularly to the Uſe of Figures. Firſt, when we deſcribe a perſon under commotion, if we would do it exactly, we muſt repreſent his Diſcourſe with all its proper Figures, turning and altering them, as Men in paſſion do generally turn and alter their Diſcourſe. A skilful Painter, to expreſs (as much as in him lyes) the thoughts and paſſions of the perſon whom he draws, gives his Picture ſuch touches and lines, as he obſerves to be in the Face after extraordinary provocation; which ſtrokes, are great indications of the temper of the Mind.

[Page] Our Paſſions (as I ſaid before) will ſhow themſelves in our Eyes, our Words, our Motions, &c. The expreſſion of Anger and Mirth cannot be the ſame: Theſe Paſſions have different Characters, and therefore it is in vain to think to repreſent them, either by colours or words, unleſs we do it by the ſame ſtrokes and figures by which they are diſtinguiſhed among themſelves.

When a Diſcourſe has life in it, and is animated with the Motions and Characters, and Paſſions of the perſon who ſpeaks, it cauſes a ſecret pleaſure, and is extreamly delightful. We cannot read theſe following Verſes, without compaſſion, and reſentment of the ſame tenderneſs and love. Virgil repreſents Niſus in great conſternation, upon the danger of his Friend Euryalus, againſt whom Volcens was advancing with his Sword in his hand to revenge the death of Tagus, who as he thought was ſlain by Euryalus. Niſus diſcovers himſelf to have ſlain Tagus, and preſents himſelf to receive that mortal ſtroke that was directed to Euryalus. His words are theſe, and they are highly emphatical.

[Page]

Me me adſum qui feci, in me convertite ferrum

O Rutuli: mea fraus omnis, nihil iſte nec auſus,

Nec potuit: Coelum hoc, & conſcia Sydera teſtor:

Tantùm infelicem nimium dilexit amicum.

I'm, I'm the Man! Turn, turn your Swords on me:

Mine was the fraud; alas poor harmleſs he

Nor durſt, nor could, the Heaven and Stars can tell:

His only guilt was loving's Friend too well.

The ſecond Reaſon to prove the Uſe and Neceſſity of Figures, is ſtronger than the firſt: We cannot affect other people, without we appear to have ſome impreſſion upon our ſelves.

—Sivis me flere, dolendum eſt

Primum ipſe tibi—

Men will never think us concern'd, [Page] unleſs they obſerve in our words the marks and indications of trouble. No man ever conceiv'd Sentiments of pity, for a man that was laughing; to move us to compaſſion, his Eyes muſt be fix'd upon the ground, and his Cheeks all dabbled with tears: For the ſame reaſon, our Diſcourſe ought likewiſe to bear the marks of the paſſion we feel, and would communicate to our Auditors. We judge of things, according to the zeal and fervor of the Speaker. The moſt part of Men, and of things, that have extraordinary eſteem, are indebted for it, to thoſe who never mention them but with tranſports of admiration: Were they mentioned with contempt, the World would think contemptibly of them. Non (ſays St. Aug.) quod res aliae forent, & ipſe homo alius, ſed tantummodo affectus alius narrantium.

Animals know how to defend themſelves; to acquire what is uſeful, and to keep it by force. Thoſe who have fancied them but Machins, have ſhow'd very ingeniouſly, their Bodies to be ſo organiz'd, that they may perform thoſe [Page] actions without aſſiſtance from the Soul. We find in our ſelves, that our Members (without direction from our Soul) diſpoſe themſelves into poſtures to avoid injury. That the Body frames it ſelf into a proper condition, either to invade or defend. The Hands and the Feet expoſe themſelves for the ſafety of the Head. The Feet ſtand firm to ſupport the Body, and put it into a capacity of withſtanding the inſults of the Enemy. The Arm ſtiffens, and liſts it ſelf up to ſtrike with greater force. The whole Body twiſts, and contracts, and extends it ſelf, to avoid or invade the Adverſary. And all this is done naturally, without reflexion or debate.

'Tis not to be thought, that theſe Figures are only Rhetorical Figments, invented for ornament of diſcourſe: God has not refus'd to the Soul, what he has given to the Body. The Body knows how to move, and diſpoſe it ſelf dexterouſly, for the repelling of Injuries; and the Soul may▪ defend it ſelf as well: Nature has not made her immoveable upon any inſult: The Figures imploy'd by her in diſcourſe, do the [Page] ſame, as Poſtures in defence of the Body. If Poſtures be proper for defence, in corporal invaſions; Figures are as neceſſary, in ſpiritual attacks. Words are the Arms of the Mind, which ſhe uſes, to diſſwade or perſwade, as occaſion ſerves. I ſhall ſhow the efficacy and force of theſe Figures, after I have given a particular definition of each of them. But it being impoſſible to deſcribe all the Poſtures which our Paſſions do dictate to our Bodies, ſo 'tis as impoſſible to enumerate all the Figures wherewith our Paſſions do furniſh our Diſcourſe. I ſhall ſpeak only of the moſt remarkable, and ſuch as are commonly mentioned by all Maſters in this Art.

II.
A Liſt of the Figures.

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EXCLAMATION.

EXclamation, in my judgment, is not improperly to be plac'd in the Van of the Figures, ſeeing it is by that, our Paſſions do firſt exert, and diſcover themſelves in diſcourſe. Exclamation, is a violent extenſion of the Voice. When the Soul comes to be diſturb'd, and agitated with a furious impulſe, the animal Spirits paſſing thorough all the parts of the Body, and thronging into the Muſcles that are about the Organs of the Voice, ſwell them up in ſuch manner, that the paſſage being ſtreight'ned, the Voice comes forth with more impetuoſity, by reaſon of the Paſſion that propells it. Every Ebullition of the Soul is followed by an Exclamation; and therefore the Diſcourſe of a Man in that condition, is full of theſe [Page] Exclamations, Alas! Good God! O Heavens! O Earth! &c.

DOUBT.

The motion of the Paſſions is no leſs changeable and inconſtant, than the Waves of the Sea; and they who abandon themſelves to the violence of their Paſſions, are in perpetual diſquiet: They will, and they will not: They take an Enterprize in hand, and they quit it immediately: They approve, and diſapprove the ſame thing in an inſtant: In a word, the inconſtancy of their Paſſion hurries them this way, and that way, and holding them in continual irreſolution, plays with them, as the Winds with the Waves of the Sea. The Figure which in our Diſcourſe repreſents this irreſolution is called Doubt, of which we have an excellent Example in Virgil's Deſcription of Dido's anxiety, when Aeneas had given her the ſlip.

—What ſhall I do?

Shall I now ſcorn'd my former Suiters woo?

[Page] Make Overtures, ſome Lybian Prince to gain?

Lovers whom I ſo often did diſdain:

Or ſhall I venture in the Ilian Fleet,

And to the Trojans proud Commands ſubmit?

Since they for my Aſſiſtance prove ſo kind,

And my late Favours bear ſo well in mind.

Grant I were willing, who would give me leave,

And me neglected in proud Ships receive?

Ah! haſt thou not ſufficiently known

The perjur'd Race of falſe Laomedon?

Shall I alone with churliſh Seamen ſail,

Or try if by my power I may prevail?

And thoſe who ſcarce I could perſwade from Eyre,

To venture to the Sea again deſire?

No, Wretch, as thou haſt well deſerved, die;

And with a Sword conclude thy Miſerie.

EPANORTHOSIS.

A Man in his paſſion is never ſatisfied with what he either ſays or does; the heat of his indignation carries him ſtill farther, in ſo much that his words are (in his own thoughts) ſtill ſhort of what [Page] he would ſay; he thinks his firſt expreſſion too weak, and by adding freſh and more ſtrong, endeavours to correct them.

Nec tibi Diva Parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor

Perfide: ſed duris genuit te cautibus horrens

Caucaſus, Hyrcanaeque admôrunt uber a Tigres.

The word Epanorthoſis is a Greek word, and the ſame with Correctio or Emendatio in Latin.

ELLIPSIS.

A violent paſſion never permits us to ſay all that we would: The Tongue is too ſlow to keep pace with the ſwiftneſs of its motions; ſo that when a Man is cool in Diſcourſe, his Tongue is not ſo full of words, as when he is animated by paſſion. When our Paſſions are interrupted, or diverted another way, the Tongue following them, produces words of no reference or analogy with what we were ſaying before. [Page] The old Man in Terence was ſo inrag'd againſt his Son, that he could utter only the word Omnium; his paſſion was too violent to permit him to go thorough with his Exprobration, or to call him as he intended, Omnium hominum peſſimus. Ellipſis is the ſame thing with Omiſſio, or Defectus.

APOSIOPESIS.

Apoſiopeſis is a kind of an Ellipſis or Omiſſion; and it is formed when on a ſudden we change our paſſion, or lay it quite aſide, cutting off our Diſcourſe in ſuch manner, that the Hearer cannot eaſily divine what it is we intend. This Figure is uſed moſt commonly upon occaſion of threatning, as If I, &c. But, &c.

Quos ego. Sed motos praeſtat componere fluctus.

PARALIPSIS.

This Figure is a pretended deſire in us to omit what we ſay, and it is natural [Page] enough. When a Man is inraged, Arguments preſent themſelves in crowds to his Mind: He would willingly make uſe of them all, but fears they may be troubleſome: Beſides, the activity of his agitation hinders him from enlarging upon all of them, ſo he is forc'd to deliver them in a huddle, and pretend that he has not ſo much time as they require to be dilated on. I will not ſpeak (Gentlemen) of the Injury that my Enemy has done me: I am willing to forget the wrong that I have received from him: I ſhut mine Eyes at all his contrivances againſt me.

REPETITION.

Repetition is a Figure very ordinary among thoſe who ſpeak in a heat, or are impatient to make us underſtand what they mean. When we are in Combat with our Enemy, we think it not enough to give him one wound and no more; we multiply our blows, for fear one ſhould not do the buſineſs: So in Speaking, if we think our firſt words not well underſtood, we repeat them, [Page] or explain them another way. Paſſion having got the Maſtery of us, poſſeſſes it ſelf of our Minds, and imprints ſtrongly in us thoſe things which have cauſed it; of which the Mind being very full, no wonder if we ſpeak with emotion. Repetition is made two ways; when we repeat the ſame words, or when we repeat the ſame thing in different words. Cicero gives us an Example of the former, in his firſt Oration againſt Catiline: Nihil agis, nihil nihil moliris, quod ego non modo, non audiam, ſed etiam vide am planéque ſentiam. And Proſper has another of the ſecond, where in different manners he expreſſes this ſingle Truth, That of our ſelves we can do nothing well, but only by the aſſiſtance of Divine Grace. In repeating the ſame words, there are ways of diſpoſing them with ſuch art, that anſwering one another, they make an excellent Cadence, and are very pleaſing to the Ear. Theſe are called harmonious Repetitions, of which I ſhall ſpeak farther in my following Book.

PLEONASMUS.

[Page]

A Pleonaſm is when we uſe more words than are neceſſary, as when I ſay, I heard ſuch a thing with my Ears. The word is Greek, and ſignifies the ſame with Redundantia in Latin.

SYNONYMIA.

A Synonomie is when the ſame thing is expreſſed by ſeveral words that have but one and the ſame ſignification: And this happens, when the Mouth being too narrow for the Heart, we make uſe of all the words we can remember to expreſs our thoughts, as Abiit, Evaſit, Erupit; He went away, He eſcap'd, He fled.

HYPOTYPOSIS.

The Objects of our Paſſions are almoſt always preſent to our Minds: We fancy we ſee and hear thoſe continually, who have made any ſtrong impreſſion upon our Minds.

[Page] Illum abſens abſentem auditque videtque.

For which reaſon, all Deſcriptions of theſe Objects are lively and exact. They are called Hypotypoſes becauſe they figure the things, and form an Image of them, that repreſents the things themſelves. The word is a Greek word, and ſignifies to repreſent or delineate.

DISTRIBUTION.

Diſtribution is a kind of Hypotypoſis, uſed when we enumerate the parts of the Object of our Paſſion. David ſupplies us with an Example, when in the heat of his indignation againſt Sinners, he gives a deſcription of their Iniquity: Their throat is an open ſepulchre, they flatter with their tongues; the poiſon of Aſps is under their lips; their mouth is full of curſing and lyes; and their feet are ſwift to ſhed blood.

ANTITHESIS.

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Antitheſes, Compariſons, and Similitudes, which are Figures proper to repreſent things with clearneſs, are the effects of that ſtrong impreſſion made upon us by the Paſſion that animates us, of which by conſequence it is an eaſie matter to diſcourſe clearly and exactly, having it as it were preſent before the Eyes of our Mind. Contraria juxta ſe poſita, magis eluceſcunt. And white plac'd by black is the more illuſtrious. We have an Example of an Antitheſis in Proſper, where ſpeaking of thoſe who act without the impulſion of the Holy Spirit, he ſays,

Leur ame en cet état recule en s'avancant,

En voulant monter tombe, et perd en amaſſant:

Comme elle ſuit l'attrait d'une lu eur trompeuſe,

Sa lumiere l'offuſque, et la rend tenebreuſe.

SIMILITUDE.

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For a Similitude, I cannot give a better Pattern than out of the Paraphraſe upon the Firſt of King David's Pſalms, where ſpeaking of the Happineſs of the Juſt Man, it ſays,

He ſhall be like a Tree by th' Waters ſide,

Whoſe root receives the tribute tide;

The tender Plant does into vigour grow,

Is always green, has always fruit,

Extends into the ſtreams its root,

And ſpreads in top as that does ſpread below.

So ſhall the Righteous flouriſh, and that Hand

That planted him at firſt ſhall make him stand:

No ſtorm or drought againſt him ſhall prevail.

But bending to the ſtreams his root,

He ſhall be green, he ſhall have fruit,

Which 'till they ceaſe to flow ſhall never fail.

COMPARISON.

The difference is not great betwixt a Similitude and a Compariſon, unleſs it [Page] be in this, that a Compariſon is more ſpritely and emphatical, as appears in this Compariſon, wherein David ſhows, that he preferr'd the Law of God before all things, Pſ. 19.

The fineſt Gold near them looks wan and pale,

And Honey from the Comb does of its wonted ſweetneſs fail.

But there are two things to be obſerved in Compariſons: The firſt is, We are not to require an exact analogy and proportion betwixt all the parts of a Compariſon, and the Subject of which we ſpeak. Certain things are inſerted only to render the Compariſons more lively, as in that which Virgil makes of the young Ligurian vanquiſh'd by Camillus, with a Pigeon in the Pounces of an Hawk: After he had ſaid what he thought fit of the principal, to which the Compariſon related, he adds, ‘Tum Cruor, & Vulſae labuntur ab aethere plumae.’

[Page] Which belongs not to the Compariſon, but is brought in only to make a more ſenſible deſcription of a Pigeon torn in pieces by a Hawk. The ſecond thing to be obſerved in favour of that excellent Poet, I have thought good to inſert, to defend him from the Criticiſms of thoſe who condemn his Compariſons as too mean and low. But it is with much Art that this Great Man, in his Aeneids, makes his Compariſons of mean things: He does it to eaſe and relax the Mind of the Reader, whom the Grandeur and Dignity of his Matter had held in too ſtrong an intention; and to diſcern that this was his deſign, we need no more than to conſider the Compariſons in his Georgicks, which are lofty and ſtrong.

SUSPENSION.

When we begin our Diſcourſe in ſuch manner, that the Hearer knows not what we mean, and the expectation of ſome great thing makes him attentive, that Figure is called Suſpenſio. Breboeuf has an Example of it in his Solitary [Page]Entertainments, where ſpeaking of God he ſays:

Les ombres de la nuit, a la clartè de jour;

Les tranſports de la rage aux douceurs de l'amour;

A l'etroite amitie, la diſcord ou l'envie;

Le plus bruiant orage, au calm le plus doux;

La douleur aux plaiſers; le trepas à la vie;

Sont bein moins oppoſez que le pecheur a Vous.

Darkneſs to Light, cold Winters Froſt to Fire,

Tranſports of Rage to Sweetneſſes of Love,

Loud roaring Tempeſts to the ſmootheſt Calm,

Torments to Pleaſure, Death it ſelf to Life;

Are not ſo oppoſite, as Sin to Thee.

PROSOPOPEIA.

When a Paſſion is violent, it renders them mad in ſome meaſure that are poſſeſs'd with it. In that caſe, we entertain our ſelves with Rocks, and with[Page]dead Men, as if they were living, and make them ſpeak as if they had Souls. Good God, Protector of Innocency, permit that the Order of Nature may be interrupted for a moment, and that this dead Carkaſs looſening its Tongue, may reſume the uſe of its Voice! Me thinks God Almighty grants this Miracle to my Prayers: Do you not hear the Carkaſs (Gentlemen) publiſhing my Innocence, and declaring the Authors of its Death? If it be juſt reſentment (ſays the Carkaſs) againſt the Author of my death, that animates you, turn your indignation againſt this Calumniator, who triumphs in an abſolute ſecurity, having loaden this Innocent with the burden of his Crime.

SENTENCE.

Sentences are but reflexions made upon a thing that ſurprizes, and deſerves to be conſider'd. They conſiſt commonly in few energetical words, that comprehend great ſenſe, as in this: There is no diſguiſe that can long conceal Love where it is, or diſſemble it where it is not. The reflexion which Lucan makes upon the Errour of the ancient Gauls, [Page] who believed the Tranſmigration of the Soul, will ſerve for an Example of a more prolix Sentence.

—But thoſe wild People happy are

In this their Error, whom Fear greateſt far

Of all Fears injures not, the Fear of Death;

Thence are they prone to War; nor loſs of Breath

Eſteem; nor ſpare a Life that comes again.

EPIPHONEMA.

Epiphonema is an Exclamation containing ſome Sentence, or great Senſe, plac'd at the end of a diſcourſe: It is the laſt touch or ſtroke wherewith we would affect our Auditors, and a preſſing and lively reflexion upon the Subject whereof we ſpeak: This Hemiſtich of Virgil is an Epiphonema: ‘—Tantaene animis Coeleſtibus irae?’

Lucan finiſhes by a kind of Epiphonema the Complaint of the Inhabitants of Rimini againſt the Situation of their [Page] City, which was expos'd to the firſt Commotions in all the Wars, both Civil and Foreign.

—Quoties Romam fortuna laceſſit,

Hâc iter eſt bellis—

INTERROGATION.

Interrogation is very much uſed in Diſcourſe, our Paſſion produces it frequently towards them we would perſwade, and makes us addreſs our ſelves wholly to them; ſo that this Figure is very uſeful to fix the attention of our Auditors to what we would have them underſtand. The Prophet David gives us a lively inſtance, when in the Tenth Pſalm he ſeems to expoſtulate with God Almighty, and queſtion him for abandoning the Innocent in the time of their Trouble.

My God, why doſt thou thus thy ſelf withdraw,

And make as if thou didſt not ſee

Thoſe miſeries, which are better known to thee,

Than him who bears their ſharpeſt law?

[Page] Why doſt thou thus thy face in trouble hide?

'Twere Hell, ſhould I be ever ſo deni'd.

APOSTROPHE.

An Apoſtrophe is when a Man in extraordinary commotion, turns himſelf on all ſides, and addreſſes to the Heavens, the Earth, the Rocks, the Foreſts, things ſenſible and inſenſible: He makes no difference in his fury, but ſearches every where for ſuccour, quarrels with every thing, like a Child beating the ground upon which he has fallen: So David, in the Firſt Chapter of the Second Book of Samuel, lamenting the Death of Saul and Jonathan, curſes the Mountains of Gilboa where that Tragedy was acted: Ye Mountains of Gilboa let there be no Dew, neither let there be Rain upon you, nor Field Offerings, &c.

PROLEPSIS & HYPOBOLE.

Prolepſis is a Figure by which we prevent what might be objected by the Adverſary; and Hypobole is the manner [Page] of anſwering thoſe Objections which we have prevented. We may find an Example of theſe two Figures in S. Paul's Firſt Epiſtle to the Corinthians, chap. 15. where ſpeaking of the Reſurrection to come, he anſwers a Queſtion that might be objected: But ſome will ſay, how are the dead raiſed up? and with what body do they come? Thou Fool, that which thou ſoweſt is not quickned except it dye: And when thou ſoweſt, thou ſoweſt not that body that ſhall grow up, but only the grain perhaps of wheat, perhaps of ſome other thing.

COMMUNICATION.

Communication is, when deliberating with our Auditors, we deſire their Judgments: As, What would you do (Gentlemen) in the like caſe? Would you take other Meaſures than, &c. 'Tis a kind of Communication that St. Paul uſes in the Sixth Chapter to the Romans, where having reckon'd up the advantages of Grace, and the miſeries that follow Sin, he demands of the Romans, What fruit had ye then in thoſe things whereof ye are now aſhamed, for the end of thoſe things is death?

CONFESSION.

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Confeſſion is an acknowledgment of our faults, and ſuch an acknowledgment as ingages the perſon to whom it is addreſs'd to pardon the fault, the hopes of which pardon gives us the confidence to confeſs. And this is a Figure very frequent in the Pſalms of David, and particularly in the Twenty fifth Pſalm.

Let not my ſins to thy remembrance come,

Nor all thoſe ſpots which ſtain'd my youth;

But waſh them out, and mindful of thy truth,

Receive the Prodigal returning home,

And let thy Mercy for thy ancient Love make room.

EPITROPE or CONSENT.

Sometimes we grant a thing freely, that might be deny'd, to obtain another, that we deſire. This Figure is frequently malicious, and carries a ſting[Page]in the tail. Cic. pro Flacco. Tribuo Graecis Literas, do multarum artium diſciplinam, ingeniorum acumen, dicendi copiam; denique etiam ſi qua ſibi alia ſumunt, non repugno; teſtimoniorum religionem & fidem nunquam ratio iſta coluit. On the contrary, ſometimes it has a healing cloſe, as, Sit ſacrilegus, ſit fur, ſit flagitiorum omnium vitiorumque princeps; at eſt bonus Imperator.

By this Figure it is, that we invite our Enemy ſometimes to do all the miſchief he can▪ in order to give him a ſenſe and horror of his Cruelty. It is common likewiſe in the Complaints betwixt Friends, as when Ariſteus, in Virgil, complains to his Mother:

Quin age, & ipſa manu felices erue ſylvas,

Fer ſtabulis inimicum ignem, atque interſice meſſes,

Ure ſata, & validam in vites molire bipennem:

Tanta meae ſi te coeperunt toedia laudis.

Go and my fertile Groves thy ſelf annoy,

And burn my Stalls, with Fire my Corn deſtroy,

[Page] Hew down and ſpoil my Vineyards; if to thee

So grievous are thoſe Honours granted me.

PERIPHRASIS.

Periphraſis is a Circumlocution, uſed to avoid certain words whoſe Idea's are unpleaſing; and to prevent the ſpeaking of ſome things that would produce ill Effects. Cicero being forc'd to confeſs that Clodius was ſlain by Milo, did it with addreſs: The Servants of Milo (ſays he) being hindred from ſuccouring their Maſter (whom Clodius was reported to have kill'd) and believing it to be true, they did in his abſence, without his knowledge or conſent, what every body would have expected from his Servants upon the like occaſion. In which he avoids the words kill and put to death, as words ingrateful (if not odious) to the Ear.

IV.
The Number of Figures is infinite, each Figure being to be made an hundred different ways.

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I Have not ſet down in this Liſt the Hyperboles, the Grand Metaphors, and ſeveral other Tropes, becauſe I have ſpoken of them elſewhere. They are nevertheleſs true Figures, and though the ſcarcity of Language obliges us many times to make uſe of theſe Tropical Expreſſions, even when we are quiet and at eaſe; yet they are more commonly uſed when we are under a Tranſport. 'Tis our Paſſion that makes Objects appear to us extraordinary, and by conſequence is the Cauſe that we have not common Terms to repreſent them either ſo big, or ſo little as they appear. Beſides that I never pretended to ſpeak of all the Figures, it would require a large Volume to deſcribe the Characters of our Paſſions in Diſcourſe, [Page] as well as thoſe which the ſame Paſſions do deſcribe in our Faces. Threats, Complaints, Reproaches, Intreaties, have their Figures in all Languages. There is no better Book than a Man's own Heart, and it would be folly to ſearch in other peoples Works, for that wherewith our own Breaſt may ſupply us. If we would know the Figures of Choler, we need no more than watch what we naturally ſay, when we are tranſported with that Paſſion.

In a word, it is not to be imagin'd, that all Figures are to be framed according to the Examples which I have uſed; or that I intended them as Univerſal Models for all the Figures that I have mention'd. Apoſtrophes, Interrogations, Antitheſes, may be made an hundred ſeveral ways. It is not Art that regulates them; it is not Study that ſhows them: They are the Natural Effects of Paſſion, as I have ſaid before, and ſhall demonſtrate more at large in the following Chapter.

CHAP. IV.

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I.
Figures are the Arms of the Soul. A Compariſon betwixt a Soldier Fighting, and an Orator Speaking.

VVE have ſhown the Neceſſity and Advantage of Figures by three Reaſons, of which the two firſt have been ſufficiently explain'd. The third (that Figures are the Arms of the Soul) is ſtill to be clear'd; wherefore for better illuſtration, and to give it the deeper Impreſſion upon our Mind, I will in this place deſcribe a Soldier fighting, his Sword in his hand; and an Orator ſpeaking in a Cauſe, that he has undertaken to defend. I ſhall make a Parallel of theſe two ſorts of Combats, and conſider a Soldier in three Conditions: The firſt, when he [Page] fights with equal force, and his Enemy has no advantage over him. The ſecond, when he is inviron'd with danger. And the third, when being obliged to yield to the power of his Enemy, he has no recourſe but to the Clemency of the Victor. I ſhall carefully obſerve the Poſtures which he uſes in all theſe three Conditions, and ſhow, that in Diſcourſe there are Figures correſponding to all theſe Poſtures, with which they have a natural reſemblance.

In the firſt Condition, the Soldiers intention is applied to the finding out ways of obtaining the Victory; ſometimes he is upon the offenſive, ſometimes upon the defenſive part; ſometimes he advances, ſometimes he retreats; he pretends to give ground, and returns with greater impetuoſity; he redoubles his blows, he threatens and contemns the Efforts of his Adverſary. Sometimes he puts himſelf forward, and fights with more ardour and vehemence. He conſiders the Deſigns of his Enemy, and poſſeſſes himſelf of the advantagious ground. In a word, he is in perpetual motion, and always [Page] diſpos'd either for defence or invaſion.

When the Mind is inflam'd, and diſpos'd to combat by Words, the Paſſions with which it is provok'd, with no leſs heat excite it to find out Reaſons and Arguments to evince the Truths which it aſſerts. In the heat and impatience that every man has to defend himſelf, and make good what he affirms, the ſame things are many times repeated, and delivered in different manners: Sometimes with Deſcriptions, Hypotypoſes, Compariſons, Similitudes. Sometimes we prevent what the Adverſary would ſay, and ſometimes we anſwer it. Sometimes as a token of confidence we grant all that is deſir'd, and pretend not to make uſe of all the Reaſons that the Juſtice of our Cauſe would ſuggeſt.

A Soldier keeps his Enemy in breath; the ſtrokes that he makes at him continually, the aſſaults that he makes at him on all ſides, the different ways of his attacks and retreats, keeps him conſtantly waking. An Orator entertains the Attention of his Auditors; when their thoughts are ſtraggling, he reduces [Page] them by Apoſtrophes; and by Interrogations obliges them to whom they are directed to give him an anſwer. He awakens them, and recollects them by frequent Exclamations, Reiterations, &c.

Having conſider'd this Repreſentation of a Soldier combating with ſucceſs; let us next repreſent to your Eyes the Image of another Soldier, inviron'd with danger, without any hopes of relief. Sadneſs forces Tears from his Eyes, and Sighs from his Breaſt. Indignation exaſperates him againſt the Enemy, and Fear pulls him preſently back. He ſtands immoveable, and unreſolv'd, whilſt in the mean time his deſire to eſcape the impending danger, preſſes and inflames him. After this he tryes all ſorts of ways; he excites, he animates himſelf: His Paſſion renders him dexterous and cunning, it furniſhes him with Arms, and he makes uſe of every thing he can reach for his defence. Can we ſtifle the Sentiments of diſpleaſure that we feel, and not teſtifie them by Exclamations, by Complaints, by Reproaches, when we perceive the [Page] Truth (which we love ſo well) obſtructed, or obſcur'd? In theſe occaſions, our great ardour and impatience to ſecure it againſt the Clouds wherewith it is obfuſcated, makes us accumulate Arguments, and heap proof upon proof. Sometimes we explain them; ſometimes having propos'd them only, we leave them, to anſwer the Objections of the Adverſary. Sometimes we are ſilent, in great irreſolution about the choice of our proofs. Sometimes we urge a thing, and immediately find fault with it, as a thing of no cogency or conviction. When our proofs fail, or are inſufficient, Nature her ſelf muſt Apoſtrophize; we make the Stones ſpeak, the Dead to come forth of their Graves; the Heaven and Earth are invok'd to fortifie by their teſtimony the Truth, for the eſtabliſhment of which we ſpeak with ſo much heat.

II.
A Continuation of the Parallel betwixt a Soldier Fighting, and an Orator Pleading in defence of his Cauſe.

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TO complete the Parallel that I have begun, betwixt a Soldier and an Orator, I conſider the Soldier in the third Condition to which he is reduc'd, when not being able longer to contend, he is oblig'd to yield to his Enemy. In that caſe, he throws away his Arms as unuſeful; there is nothing of threatning or fury in his countenance. His chief Weapon is his Tears; he humbles himſelf more than his Enemy would humble him; he proſtrates himſelf at his Feet, and embraces his Knees: Man is made, to obey thoſe upon whom he depends, or by whom he is maintain'd; and to command his Inferiours that acknowledge his Juriſdiction: He does both the one and the other with pleaſure. Two perſons are bound very [Page] ſtrictly together, when the one has need of relief and deſires it, and the other has power to relieve and applies it. God having made Mankind to live together, has formed them with theſe Natural Inclinations: A perſon in Affliction betakes himſelf naturally to all poſtures of Humility, that may make him appear inferiour to the perſon of whom he begs; and we cannot, without reſiſting the Sentiments of Nature, refuſe to perſons ſo humbled, the Succours that they implore: We ſupply them with a ſecret delight, which is as it were our recompence and reward (in ſome meaſure) for the Comforts we beſtow. It is by this way of Compenſation, that a Trade and Commerce is maintain'd betwixt the poor and the rich, betwixt the miſerable and the happy.

In Diſcourſe there are Figures which anſwer to theſe Poſtures of Affliction and Humility, to which the Orators have frequent recourſe. Men being free, it is at their own choice whether they will ſuffer themſelves to be perſwaded; they can turn away their face, [Page] and not ſee the Truth that is propos'd to them; or they can diſſemble that they know it. So an Orator is many times in this third Condition, wherein we conſider our Soldier. When he finds he muſt yield, and his deſire to preſerve himſelf obliges him to be humble, that he may obtain that by Supplication, that he cannot hope to compaſs by force of Argument, his Eloquence is imploy'd to poſſeſs his Adververſary of the unfortunate Condition to which he is reduc'd; Prayers are commonly full of deſcriptions of his Miſery who makes them. Job expoſtulating with God, tells Him, That he is but a leaf, with which the winds do ſport themſelves; and as a dry ſtubble. Contra folium quod vento rapitur, oſtendis potentiam tuam, & ſtipulam ſiccam perſequeris. And David, Pſal. 6.

I weary out the day with ſighs,

And when that's done the night with tears;

So vaſt a deep comes rolling from my eyes,

That down its tide my bed it almoſt bears;

Yet though it waſh my couch, it cannot drown my fears.

[Page] In a word, as there are Figures to threaten, to reproach, and to terrifie; there are Figures alſo to pray, to mitigate, and flatter.

III.
Figures illuſtrate obſcure Truths, and render the Mind attentive.

VVE cannot doubt of a known Truth: We may queſtion it with our Mouth, but our Heart muſt be thoroughly convinc'd. To triumph therefore upon the obſtinacy or ignorance of thoſe who oppoſe it, it is ſufficient to expoſe the light of it to their Eyes, and to bring it ſo near, that the ſtrength of its impreſſion may awaken them, and oblige them to be attentive. Figures do extreamly contribute to the removing theſe two firſt obſtacles, that hinder a Truth from being known, and help its obſcurity, and the defect of our attention. They are uſeful to illuſtrate and explain it; they force the [Page] Hearer to an attention; they awaken him, and ſtrike him ſo lively, that they do not ſuffer him to ſleep, nor keep the Eyes of his Mind ſhut up to the Truths that are propos'd.

My Deſign being in my Liſt of Figures, to inſert only thoſe which the Rhetoricians do place frequently in that number, I will not ſpeak of Syllogiſms, of Enthimems, of Dilemma's, and other kind of Arguments that are uſed in Logick; and yet it is manifeſt they are real Figures, being extraordinary ways of reaſoning never uſed but in paſſion, or ardent deſire to perſwade or diſſwade thoſe to whom we ſpeak. Theſe Reaſonings or Figures are wonderfully effectual in this, That joyning a clear and inconteſtable Propoſition, with another that is more doubtful and conteſtable, the clearneſs of the one diſſipates the obſcurity of the other, and the two Propoſitions being ſtrictly connexed, if the reaſoning be good, we cannot grant the one to be true, but we muſt confeſs the other to be ſo likewiſe.

A ſolid Argument ſuppreſſes and diſarms [Page] the moſt obſtinate Adverſary: Other Figures are not indeed of that force and conviction, but yet they are not unprofitable. Repetitions and Synonyma do illuſtrate a Truth. If our firſt Expreſſion be too weak, the ſecond makes us intelligible. The Synonyma when added, are ſo many new ſtrokes of a Pencil, that make thoſe Lines viſible, which before were incomplete.

When our impatience to be underſtood, gives us juſt occaſion to fear we have not ſufficiently explain'd our ſelves, we dilate upon things the more, and are more copious in our Expreſſion. If our Hearers have not been attentive, we repeat a ſecond time what we have ſaid before. What darkneſs can obfuſcate the verity of a thing that an Eloquent Perſon explains? of which, he makes Deſcriptions, and Enumerations, (that lead us (if I may ſo ſay) thorough all the corners and receſſes of an Affair) and ſuch Hypotypoſes, and Illuſtrations, as carry us thorough all difficulties, and by a pleaſant Enchantment makes us believe we behold the things themſelves? An Antitheſis [Page] is no idle ornament; oppoſition of contrary things, contributes exceedingly to the clearing of a Truth. Shadows add much to the beauty of Colours.

Our Minds are not equally open to all kind of Truths. We comprehend much more eaſily things that are obvious every day, and in common uſe among Men; than thoſe which are rare, and mention'd but ſeldom. For which Reaſon, Compariſons and Similitudes, drawn ordinarily from ſenſible things, give us a more eaſie penetration into the moſt abſtracted and abſtruſe Truths. There is nothing ſo ſubtil and ſublime, but may be made intelligible to the weakeſt Underſtanding, if among the things which they know, or are capable of knowing, we can find out ingeniouſly ſuch as have reſemblance or ſimilitude with thoſe which we would explain to them. We have an excellent Example of this Addreſs, in a Diſcourſe that Monſieur Paſchal made to a young Nobleman, to give him a true Notion of his Condition. His Parabole is thus:

[Page] A certain Perſon is caſt by Tempeſt into an unknown Iſland, whoſe Inhabitants were in great pain to find out their King who was loſt. The Perſon having much reſemblance, both in Body and Feature with the King, is taken for him, and recognis'd in that quality by the People. At firſt he was ſurpris'd, and knew not how he was to ſteer; but upon ſecond thoughts he reſolved to follow his Fortune, receiv'd all the reſpects that they paid him, and ſuffer'd himſelf to be treated as their King.

But being unable to forget his natural condition, it ſtuck in his Mind at the ſame time that he received their Formalities, that he was not the King for whom they ſought, and that the Kingdom was not his. So that he had a double care upon him; one, by which he acted as King; the other, by which he remembred his real condition, and was aſſured, that it was only Chance which had placed him where he was: This laſt thought he conceal'd to himſelf, the other he diſcover'd: By the firſt, he treated with the People; by the laſt, he treated with himſelf.

[Page] By this Example Monſieur Paſchal ſignified to the young Lord, That it was the Fortune of his Birth which had made him Great; that it was only the Fancy of the People, that had annexed to the Quality of a Duke, an Idea of Grandeur; and that in effect he is no greater than other People. Inſtructing him in that manner what Sentiments he ought to have of his condition, and making him underſtand Truths, which would have been above the Capacity of his Age, had he not (as I may ſay) brought them down to the Intellect of him whom he deſired to inſtruct.

Were Men Lovers of Truth, to propoſe it to them in a lively and ſenſible way, would be ſufficient to perſwade them: But they hate it, becauſe it accommodates but ſeldom with their Intereſts, and is ſeldom made out, but to the diſcovery of their Crimes: In ſo much that they are affraid of its luſtre, and ſhut their Eyes that they may not behold it. They ſtifle the natural love that Men have for it, and harden themſelves againſt the ſalutiferous ſtrokes that ſhe ſtrikes upon the [Page] Conſcience: They ſhut all the Ports of their Senſes, that ſhe may not enter into their Minds, where ſhe is receiv'd with ſo much indifference, that ſhe is forgot as ſoon as ſhe is receiv'd.

Eloquence therefore would have but little authority over our Hearts, and would indeed find ſtrong reſiſtance, did ſhe not attack them with other Arms beſides Truth. The Paſſions are the Springs of the Soul: It is they which cauſe it to act: It is either Love, or Hatred, or Fear, or Hope, which counſels and determins us. We purſue what we love, we avoid what we hate. He that holds the Spring of a Machin, is not ſo much Maſter of all the Effects of the Machin, as he is of a Perſon, whoſe Inclination he knows, and is able to inſpire with Hatred, or Love, according as either is neceſſary to make him advance, or to remove him from an Object.

But the Paſſions are excited by the preſence of their Object: Preſent Good affects us with Love, and with Joy; When we do not actually, but are in poſſibility of poſſeſſing that Good, it [Page] inflames the Soul with deſires, whoſe Flames are continued by Hope.

Preſent Evil is the Cauſe of Hatred or Sadneſs: The Soul is tormented with Fears and with Terrors, which turn to Deſpair, when we find we have no means left to avoid them: To kindle therefore theſe Paſſions in the Heart of a Man, we muſt preſent the Objects before him; and to this purpoſe, Figures do marvellouſly conduce.

We have ſeen how Figures do imprint ſtrongly; how they illuſtrate, and how they explain: We muſt uſe them in the ſame manner to diſcover the Object of the Paſſion which we have a mind to inſpire, and to make a lively Picture that expreſſes all the Features and Lineaments of the ſaid Object. If we declame againſt a Malefactor, who deſerves the hatred of the Judges, we are not to be ſparing of words, nor affraid of Repetitions, Synonyma, that ſtrongly imprint upon the Mind the Image of his Crimes. An Antitheſis will be convenient, and make them conceive the enormity of his Life, by oppoſing the Innocence of thoſe Perſons [Page] whom he has wrong'd: We may compare him to the Malefactors of former Ages, and declare his Cruelty to be greater than the Cruelty of the Tigres and Lions. It is in the Deſcription of Cruelty, and other ill qualities, that Eloquence triumphs: It is particularly the Hypotypoſes, or lively Deſcriptions, which produce the Effect expected from our Diſcourſe, and raiſe in the Mind Floods of Paſſion, of which we make uſe, to incline the Judges as we have a mind to lead them. Frequent Exclamations do teſtifie our horrour at the repreſentation of his abominable Crimes; and makes the Standers-by feel the ſame Sentiments of grief and averſion. By Apoſtrophes and Proſopopeia's we order it ſo, that Nature her ſelf ſeems to demand with us the Condemnation of the Criminal.

IV.
Reflexions upon the good uſe of Figures.

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FIgures, as we have ſeen, being the Characters of our Paſſions, when thoſe Paſſions are irregular, Figures ſerve only to deſcribe thoſe Irregularities. They are Inſtruments uſed to ſhake and agitate the Minds of thoſe to whom we ſpeak: If theſe Inſtruments be managed by an unjuſt Paſſion, Figures in that Man's Mouth, are like a Sword in the Hand of a Mad Man. It is not lawful by falſe accuſation to blacken every Man againſt whom we ſpeak; nor to ſhow our Eloquence, is it neceſſary to imploy againſt him, the ſame Figures we would uſe to diſpoſe a Judge to the Condemnation of a wicked and abominable perſon. Orators with whom this fault is familiar, do ſeldom deceive twice; their Exclamations are quickly underſtood, and it [Page] happens to them, as to thoſe who have uſed to counterfeit themſelves ſick; when they are ſick indeed, no body believes them:

Quaere Peregrinum, vicinia Rauca reclamat.

This fault in ſome perſons is a ſign of cunning, in others 'tis a ſign of levity and extravagance. When we delight in combating the Truth; when we deſire not to ſatisfie our Hearers, but chuſe rather to trouble their Minds with the Clouds of ſome unjuſt Paſſion, that may intercept the ſight of the Truth; the Figures imploy'd in that Caſe may be call'd Figures of Craft. But Orators are not always to be accus'd of this cunning; ſometimes they do not conſider the impreſſions which their Figures may make; their deſign not being ſo much to perſwade, as to ſhow their Eloquence; and to do that, they will put themſelves into a heat, and make uſe of the ſtrongeſt Figures in Rhetorick, when perhaps they have no Enemy to combat: Like a Mad Man, who draws his Sword upon a Phantaſm [Page] that his own troubled Imagination has repreſented in the Air. Theſe are Orators that fall many times into Raptures and Enthuſiaſms, which take away the uſe of their Reaſon, and make them ſee things in a quite contrary manner to what in reality they are.

Et ſolem geminum, & duplices ſe oſtendere Thebas.

This Fault is the Character of an Infant, that is angry without a cauſe; yet many Learned and Eminent Writers are guilty of it, as believing they could not paſs for Eloquent without theſe kind of Figures. For this reaſon, they will talk lowd upon all occaſions, deprave their own Judgments, and look upon every thing quite otherwiſe than it is; whereas they ſhould rather reflect ſoberly upon whatever is repreſented, and ſpeak only by Sentences. But that which is moſt ridiculous is, That theſe ill Orators endeavour only to pleaſe and tickle their Auditory, not concerning themſelves in the leaſt to overcome or convince their Adverſary [Page] by the force of their words. Like a diſtracted perſon, never regarding how he ſtruck, or defended himſelf with advantage againſt his Enemy, ſo he drew the Eyes of the Spectators upon him, and got the reputation of fighting handſomly, and with a good grace.

Fur es ait Pedio: Pedius, quid? Crimina raſis

Librat in Antithetis, doctas poſuiſſe Figuras

Laudatur—

They affect to meaſure their words, and to give them a juſt Cadence that may flatter the Ear: They proportion all their Expreſſions, and in a word, they fill up their Diſcourſes with Figures, but ſuch Figures as, in reſpect of ſtrong and perſwaſive Figures, are like the Poſtures in a Dance, in reſpect of the Poſtures of a Combat.

The Study and Art that appear in a compt and polite Diſcourſe, are not the Character of a Mind lively touch'd with the things of which he ſpeaks; but rather of a Man unconcern'd, and merry. So we call theſe Figures of [Page] Meaſure, whoſe Cadence is agreeable to the Ear, Theatrical Figures, Theatrales Figurae. They are Arms only for ſhow, not of a temper to fight with. Figures proper to perſwade are not to be ſought for: It is the heat wherewith we are animated for the defence of the Truth that produces them, and continues them in our Diſcourſe; ſo that indeed Eloquence is nothing but the Effect of our Zeal. St. Auguſtin tells us the ſame, ſpeaking of the Eloquence of the Stile of St. Paul: Quid ſic indignatur Apoſtolus in Epiſtolis ſuis, ſic corripit, ſic exprobrat, ſic increpat, ſic minatur? Quid eſt quod animi ſui affectum tam crebra & tam aſpera vocis mutatione teſtetur? Nullus dixerit, more Sophiſtarum pueriliter & conſulto figuraſſe Orationem ſuam; tamen multis figuris diſtincta eſt. Quapropter ſicut Apoſtolum praecepta Eloquentiae non ſecutum eſſe dicemus; ita, quod ejus ſapientiam ſecuta ſit Eloquentia, non denegamus.

But it is not only upon great occaſions that Figures are to be uſed: The Paſſions have ſeveral degrees: All provocations are not equally alike; nor [Page] have all Figures the ſame efficacy and force. There are Antitheſes for great, and other Figures for leſſer Commotions. So that we ought not to condemn all ſorts of Figures in Diſcourſe, upon a matter that affords not juſt and reaſonable occaſion of emotion. The impatience Men have to expreſs themſelves well, and to make the things they would inſinuate to be conceiv'd, has its Figures as well as our other Paſſions. In the mildeſt and moſt temperate converſation, though no reſiſtance be found in the Mind of the perſons with whom we diſcourſe, nothing hinders but that for the better explication we may repeat ſometimes the ſame Words, and make uſe of different Expreſſions, to ſay the ſame thing. It is permitted to make exact Deſcriptions, to ſearch for Compariſons and Images of what we ſay, among natural and ſenſible things. We may demand the Judgment of our Auditors, and interrogate them, to fix and retain their Minds in more ſerious attention, and make our reflexions upon what they have ſaid. Thus has Converſation its [Page] Figures, as well as Speeches, and Declamations.

The Stile of an Orator, who makes ill uſe of his Figures, is term'd a cold Stile, becauſe whatever effort he makes to animate his Auditors, they hearken but coldly, and that coldneſs is ſo much the greater, becauſe the Hearers are not agitated by any of thoſe Emotions which he deſir'd to excite.

THE THIRD PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.

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CHAP. I.

I.
Of Sounds, and Letters, of which Words are compos'd.

THe Rules which we have hitherto given, in relation to the Art of Speaking, regard only the manner of expreſſing our Thoughts, which are the Soul [Page] of Diſcourſe. Letters that compoſe the Words, by their reſemblance, are the Body of Diſcourſe, as we have ſaid before. We muſt take pains now to form this Body, that is to ſay, to range the Words in ſuch ſort, that the pronunciation of them may be eaſie and agreeable at the ſame time. To treat of this matter with entire exactneſs, we ought ſeriouſly to conſider the particular Movements of the Organs of the Voice, to determin the formation of every Sound that is made by every Letter. But, beſides that this exactneſs would be troubleſome, every Man may apprehend theſe things without the aſſiſtance of a Maſter, by obſerving with little attention what is performed by the Organs of which we make uſe when we ſpeak. I ſhall therefore explain my ſelf upon theſe things only in a general manner.

We know already how the Voice is form'd. The Air which comes forth of the Lungs, excites a Sound paſſing with conſtraint through the Larynx, or the opening of the Pipe of the Aſpera [Page]Arteria, which reaches to the Throat. This opening is greater or leſſer by means of Muſcles that inviron it, according as there is occaſion for the raiſing or letting fall of the Voice. This Sound is receiv'd out of the Throat into the Mouth; where it is modified in different manners, by the different diſpoſitions of the place which receives it, and by the Motion of the Tongue which beats it againſt ſeveral parts of the Mouth. Every Sound has been mark'd by a Letter: Letters compoſe Words; in ſuch ſort, that it is poſſible to make an Engin ſpeak, if having obſerv'd the particular diſpoſition of the Organs of the Voice (which is neceſſary for the formation of each Letter) we ſhould make as many Pipes as there are Letters, and give them the ſame diſpoſitions. It is poſſible likewiſe to make a dumb Man ſpeak, by repreſenting to his Eyes the diſpoſitions and poſtures which the Organs of the Voice do aſſume for the ſounding of each Letter, of which at the ſame time they are to ſhow them a Character, and [Page] reiterate the pronunciation, 'till he obſerves the Motions of the Tongue, the Opening of the Mouth, how the Sound is cut by the Teeth, how the Lips beat one againſt the other, and imitate them. Commonly people are dumb only becauſe they cannot hear, and therefore they cannot learn to pronounce the Sound of a Letter otherwiſe than by this artifice, which teaches them that by the Eye, of which they are not capable by the Ear. Monſieur de Monconys reports, that in his Travels in England, there was an Excellent Mathematician at Oxford, who made a dumb Man read in his preſence; and that that dumb Man was the ſecond which he had taught to ſpeak by that Method. 'Tis true, he only call'd over the Letters by their Names, but knew not how to make any conjunction of their Sounds.

The Letters are diſtinguiſh'd into Vowels and Conſonants: Some have obſerv'd, that Vowels are made only by moving the root of the Tongue; others will have their Sound form'd by the different opening of the Mouth. [Page] The Vowels are five, A, E, I, O, U. In pronouncing them, we muſt ſtop ſome time to make them ſound, otherwiſe they will not be eaſily underſtood; according to the meaſure or quantity of time, they are ſaid to be long or ſhort, or too long or too ſhort, and receive different Names. It depends upon him that ſpeaks to ſtop a longer or ſhorter time upon the Vowels, and ſo to make what difference betwixt them he pleaſes, and therefore it is, that their Number is not the ſame in all Languages. The Hebrews have thirteen Vowels; the Greeks ſeven; the French pronounce their Vowels in equal time, ſo that they are not ſubject to that difference which the different meaſures of time may produce among others; but they diſtinguiſh them another way. When the Mouth is open'd more than ordinarily, the Sound is ſtronger, and more clear; when the Mouth is not open'd ſo much, the Sound is weaker, and leſs clear. Theſe different degrees of force, cauſe the difference betwixt an E Maſculine and an E [Page] Feminine; betwixt an I and an U. When we joyn the Sounds of two Vowels, and a third Sound is produc'd, that is it which we call a Dipthong, which is as much as a Letter with two Sounds.

Conſonants cannot be pronounced, but by ſounding a Vowel, and from thence they are called Conſonants. Theſe Letters are formed by the Motion of the Tongue beating the Voice againſt the Throat, and from thence againſt the Palat. As the Tongue contracting it ſelf, ſtops the Air that forms the Voice; or as it relaxes and and ſuffers it to paſs, ſtriking upon the Teeth; and the Lips beating one upon another, it gives the Sounds of different Conſonants. From whence, among the Hebrew Grammarians, their Conſonants are diſtinguiſh'd into Conſonants of the Lips, of the Teeth, of the Throat, and of the Palat. The ſimple Conſonants are twelve, B, C, D, F, G, L, M, N, P, R, S, T; to which we might add J and V, when pronounced as Conſonants.

[Page] That which makes in the Alphabets of ſome Languages a greater Number of Conſonants, is firſt, becauſe People joyn the Sound of ſeveral Conſonants in ſuch manner, that though they be nam'd double, yet only one of their Sounds is heard: As in Z and X, Z is as much as D and S, X is as much as C and S. This Conjunction augments the Alphabets with a great number of different Conſonants. All Languages have not an equal number of theſe double Letters, in which one of the Conſonants being pronounc'd faintly, cauſes the Sounds of them both to be confounded, ſo that but one of them is heard. In the ſecond place, when we pronounce the Conſonants with Aſpiration, we change their Sound, and that change forms quite different Letters. Aſpiration is made, when we ſtrike the Voice againſt our Throats with ſome kind of force. This Aſpiration is mark'd with an H. Among the Greeks, an Aſpiration added to their [...] makes their [...], which is as much as Ph with us: An [Page] Aſpiration joyn'd with their K makes their X, and is as much as our Ch. This Obſervation makes us comprehend, why in ſome Languages one Letter has ſo many different kinds (if I may ſo call them) for example, the Hebrews have four ſorts of S: The Aſpiration may be made with different degrees: Wherefore to mark by particular Characters the differences of the pronunciation, we muſt imploy as many different Characters.

When the Voice is carried up to the Noſe, it receives a certain difference: So that if we ſhould be to treat of all Letters that might be imagin'd, as there are Letters of the Throat, there ſhould be Letters of the Noſe. Cuſtom exerciſes its authority over Letters, as well as over the Body of Diſcourſe, of which Letters are the Members. It depended upon Men to chuſe among the Sounds of the Voice (which might be infinite in number) thoſe that ſhould be moſt pleaſing and commodious; for which Cauſe, there are Letters in uſe in [Page] ſome Languages, that are not uſed in others.

Some Nations there are, who expreſs by one ſingle Letter ſeveral Sounds; others on the contrary mark the ſame Sound by different Characters, and have ſeveral Letters that might be ſpared: Among the Latins the K or the Q might be ſpar'd, as is obſerv'd by Marius Victorinus, who has treated of that matter very profoundly. This is it that has produced ſo much difference in the Alphabets of Languages both ancient and modern. It is not neceſſary I obſerve, that the Tones of the Voice, and the divers inflexions wherewith the ſame Letters may be pronounced, may change their pronunciation; That there are Letters of which the Sound is not diſtinct, if we are not careful to joyn them with ſuch as have ſympathy with them. I paſs over ſuch things as are commonly regarded as trifles; nevertheleſs the knowledge of them, though their Object be ſmall, is in ſome meaſure neceſſary: Order [Page] has oblig'd me to repeat what I have ſaid of them before.

II.
What is to be avoided in the ranging and diſpoſition of our Words.

'TIs an Effect of the Wiſdom of God, who created Man to be happy, that whatever is uſeful to his Converſation, is agreeable to him. The pleaſure annex'd to all the actions that can preſerve his life, carries him freely and ſpontaneouſly to them. We find it no pain to eat, becauſe the guſt and reliſh of the Meat diſcovers the neceſſity of eating to be agreeable: And that which authoriſeth this Obſervation, that God has joyn'd uſefulneſs [Page] and pleaſure together, is this, becauſe all Victual that conduces to nouriſhment is reliſhable, whereas other things that cannot be aſſimulated and turn'd into our ſubſtance, are inſipid.

This ſeaſoning of Neceſſity with Delight, is to be found in the Uſe of Speech. There is a ſtrange ſympathy betwixt the Voice of thoſe who ſpeak, and the Ears of thoſe who hear: Words that are ſpoken with pain, are offenſive to the Hearer. The Organs of the Ear are diſpos'd in ſuch ſort, that they are offended by a pronunciation that grates upon the Organs of the Voice. A Diſcourſe cannot be pleaſant to the Hearer, that is not eaſie to the Speaker; nor can it be eaſily pronounc'd, unleſs it be heard with delight.

We feed with more appetite upon wholſom and reliſhable Meats: We liſten more eaſily to a Diſcourſe, whoſe ſmoothneſs leſſens the trouble of attending. It is with Sciences as with Meats: We muſt endeavour to [Page] make thoſe things pleaſant, that are uſeful. Quoniam nonnullam inter ſe habent ſimilitudinem veſcentes atque diſcentes; propter faſtidia plurimorum, etiam ipſa, ſine quibus vivi non poteſt, alimenta condienda ſunt.

Pleaſure goes far with every Man, 'tis that which is the Principal of all our Motions, and ſets them on work. Prudence requires that we make uſe of this inclination to conduct us to our deſign'd end; that we delight the Ears, which being the Porters of the Mind, may give our words the more favourable admiſſion. Beſides, the pleaſure which we give in Speaking, is preceded by our own proper advantage; becauſe the eaſe of the Speaker, cauſes the ſatisfaction of the Hearer. Let us then endeavour firſt to diſcover what is to be avoided in the ranging of our Words; what faults may be committed in it; what makes their pronunciation difficult. The firſt ſtep to Wiſdom, is to diſclaim Vice: Sapientia prima, ſtultitiâ caruiſſe: Beſides, in what relates to the Senſe, [Page] every thing is agreeable that is not offenſive. Id omne delectat, quod non offendit, ſays St. Auguſt.

Among the Letters, ſome are pronounced with eaſe, others with pain: Thoſe whoſe pronunciation is eaſy, have an agreeable ſound; thoſe which are pronounced with difficulty, do grate upon the ear. Conſonants are pronounc'd with more difficulty than Vowels, and therefore their ſound is leſs ſoft and fluent. It is convenient to temper the harſhneſs of the one by the ſweetneſs of the other, and that is to be done by placing the Vowels betwixt the Conſonants, that there may not be too many of them together. This harſhneſs ariſing from the concourſe of Conſonants is obvious in the Northern Languages. Dutch and Engliſh are very unpleaſant to them whoſe ears have not been accuſtomed to thoſe Languages.

Cuſtome takes off this harſhneſs from words, or at leaſt makes us not ſo ſenſible of it: Nevertheleſs it is obſerv'd, that according to the different degrees of the peoples inclination [Page] to delicacy, their words are compos'd of Letters more or leſs ſoft; they having had leſs regard to follow reaſon, than to tickle their ears. In reſpect of this ſoftneſs of pronunciation the Romans uſed aufero for abfero, colloco for cumloco, as analogy oblig'd them to ſpeak. Analogy has remitted of its rights in favour to the ſoftneſs of pronunciation; Impetratum eſt a Conſuetudine ut ſuavitatis cauſa peccare liceret.

When Conſonants have their aſpirations, or are pronounc'd in a quite contrary manner, we are more particularly oblig'd to avoid their concourſe. There are Conſonants pronounc'd with the mouth ſhut, as P. There are others to be pronounc'd with the mouth open, as C. &c. Theſe Conſonants cannot march together; they do not agree, and therefore cannot be pronounc'd one after the other immediately, without ſome kind of difficulty; becauſe we are forced (almoſt at the ſame time) to diſpoſe the Organs of pronunciation in ſeveral different faſhions.

[Page] A ſecond error into which they fall who range their diſcourſe with negligence, is the concourſe of two or more Vowels. This concourſe of Vowels is unpleaſing for a reaſon quite contrary to what has been given for the harſhneſs of the concourſe of Conſonants. Conſonants are pronounc'd with pain, Vowels with eaſe; but this great facility accompanied with great ſwiftneſs, is the cauſe that their ſounds are not ſo diſtinguiſhable, but that for the moſt part one of them is loſt; by which means there is a kind of vacuum in the pronunciation, that renders it unpleaſing. In pronouncing many Vowels ſucceſſively, it happens with us as if we were walking upon poliſh'd Marble, the too great ſmoothneſs is troubleſome; it cauſes us to ſlip, and 'tis hard for us to keep upon our legs. In pronouncing theſe two words in French Hardi Ecuyer; or in Latin theſe, ni interſiſtat & laboret animus, unleſs we ſtop for ſome time at the words Hardi, or ni, the ſound of the firſt Vowels will be confounded with that which begins the following [Page] words, and create an uneaſineſs to the ear, as not being able to diſtinguiſh clearly the two different ſounds.

To prevent this concourſe, we either retrench one of the Vowels that are found together, or we put in a Conſonant to fill up that void ſpace which would happen without this artifice; for this reaſon they ſay in French, qu'il fit, for que il fit; a-t-il fait, for a il fait; fera-t-il, for fera il. When one of the Vowels has a ſound ſtrong enough to make it ſelf diſtinguiſh'd, this artifice is uſeleſs. This care of ranking of words ought to be without diſquiet: We are not to conſider as material faults, the failings in this part of the Art of Speaking. Non id ut crimen ingens expaveſcendum est, ac neſcio an negligentia in hoc, an ſolicitudo ſit pejor.

I know not whether neglect or ſolicitude is to be moſt carefully avoided: but negligence has this advantage, that it makes it believ'd we employ our ſelves more about things than words, Indicium eſt hominis de re, magis quam de verbis laborantis.

VII.
In ſpeaking, the voice does many times repoſe: We may commit three faults in ill-placing the repoſe of the voice.

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THE neceſſity of taking breath, obliges to interrupt the courſe or our pronunciation, and the deſire of explaining our ſelves diſtinctly, is the cauſe that we chooſe for the repoſe of our voice the end of every ſentence, to diſtinguiſh by theſe intervals the different things of which we ſpeak. Two faults may be committed by ill-diſtribution of theſe intervals. If the expreſſions of each Sentence be too ſhort, and by conſequence the pronunciation often interrupted, this interruption leſſening the force of the voice, and cauſing it to fall, the mind of the Reader (that ought to be kept in breath) relaxes, and his intenſion abates. There is nothing that more cools the heat of an action, than [Page] to diſcontinue it with too many interruptions. Labour makes the mind vigorous, and attentive; Idleneſs makes it drowſy and ſtupid. Fit attentior ex difficultate, S. Aug.

When our thoughts are delivered too ſhort, and the mind of the Reader is obliged to attend ſometime to conceive them, this retardment keeps him in breath, and rendring him more attentive, gives him a better conception of the ſenſe of our diſcourſe. We have ſaid in the firſt Book, that for this reaſon the Romans rejected at the end of the ſentence ſome word upon which the underſtanding of the former depended: But without this tranſpoſition, and ſubverſion of the natural order, it ſuffices to hinder that our pronunciation be not often interrupted, to make choice of ſuch copious expreſſions as may comprehend a competent number of words; or elſe it is neceſſary that the things expreſſed be ſo link'd together, that the firſt may excite the deſire of underſtanding the latter, and that the voice repoſe after every ſenſe in ſuch manner, that we [Page] may perceive it has ſtill farther to go.

When a thought is expreſſed by too great number of words, we fall into another extream, commonly we continue the actions we have begun; ſo the voice not repoſing till it comes to the end of the ſenſe of which it has begun to pronounce the expreſſion, if the ſenſe comprehends many things, the long ſucceſſion of words to which it is link'd, heats the lungs, and ſpends the ſpirits; the pronunciation is incommodious and unpleaſant both to ſpeaker and hearer.

One of the greateſt difficulties in Rhetorick is to keep a Mean, and avoid theſe two Extreams. Thoſe who ſpeak without art, and have but a weak genius, fall commonly into the firſt errot; they can hardly ſpeak four words that will hang together; every ſentence ends as ſoon as it begins. We hear nothing but for, to conclude, after that, ſaid he, and other ſuch expreſſions brought in only to patch up the incoherence of the words. There is no fault in Diſcourſe ſo contemptible and inſupportable as this. Thoſe who [Page] would exceed, run into another extreme. The firſt proceed as if they were lame, the other by leaps. For fear of debaſing their ſtyle, they exalt it too high: They make uſe of nothing but Bombaſt, Seſquipedalia verba; and phraſes long enough to take away a mans breath.

'Tis eaſy to abridg, or lengthen a Sentence: We may link two or more conceits together, make them but one, and ſo continue the Diſcourſe by a long ſeries of words that make but one ſenſe. There is no need of repairing to hollow and empty phraſes, or to blow up our diſcourſe with vain words. On the contrary, if a ſentence contains too many things that require great numbers of words, 'tis eaſy to contract the ſenſe of that ſentence, to ſeparate the ſaid things, and to ſignify them by ſelect expreſſions, which may be by conſequence more ſhort and conciſe than that which expreſſed the whole body of the ſentence.

We may likewiſe commit a third fault againſt the juſt diſtribution of the repoſe of the voice. In beginning [Page] a ſentence, when we lift up our voice inſenſibly, the Greeks call it [...] and at the end of a ſentence when we depreſs it, it is called [...] The ear judges of the length of a phraſe by the elevation of the voice, if that be loud, it makes us expect many words; if the expected words do not follow, the defect deceives them, and is uneaſy as well to the ſpeaker as hearer. It is hard to ſtop in the midſt of a career: When in the dark we are got to the higheſt ſtep of a pair of ſtairs without perceiving it, and we believe we may go ſtill higher, the firſt ſtep we make afterwards diſcompoſes us, and we are in as much diſorder as if the board ſlip'd from under our feet: All the expletive particles in French, as pas point, &c. have been found out to ſupply the place of words which the ear expected. The Greeks have great number of theſe particles, which have no other uſe but to lengthen a Diſcourſe, and keep it from falling too ſuddenly: If the ear be offended with the length of a Diſcourſe, all the words unexpected are importunate. [Page] Aures (ſays Cicero) quid plenum, quid inane ſit judicant, & nos admonent complere verbis quae propoſuerimus, ut nihil diſiderent, nihil amplius expectent. Cum vox ad ſententiam expromendam attollitur, remiſſa donec concludatur arrectae ſunt, quo perfecto, completo (que) ambitu, gaudent; Et curta ſentiunt, nec amant redundantia. Idcirco ne mutilae ſint, & quaſi decurtatae ſententiae, hoc eſt, non ante tempus cadant cavendum, ne quaſi promiſſis aures fraudentur, aut productionibus, aut immoderatius excurrentibus laedantur.

IV.
The too frequent repetition of the ſame Sounds, the ſame Letters, and the ſame words, is irkſome. The way of rendring the Pronunciation of a Diſcourſe equal.

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AMong the Defects in ranging our Words, we reckon the too frequent repetition of the ſame Letter, the ſame termination, the ſame ſound, and the ſame cadence. Diverſity is pleaſant; but the beſt things are troubleſom when common. This Fault is the more conſiderable, becauſe it is eaſily corrected: We need no more then to run our Eye over the Work, change the Words, the Syllables, the terminations which follow too often. We may expreſs the ſame things a hundred ſeveral ways; Cuſtom ſupplying different expreſſions for the ſame thought.

The moſt of the faults of which I have ſpoken, we avoid to render our [Page] Diſcourſe equal and ſmooth. 'Tis uneaſie to walk in an uneven way; an unequal Diſcourſe cannot be carried on without trouble: Pronunciation is incommodious and importunate, when without any proportion we ſometimes advance, ſometimes depreſs our voice, and paſs from one extremity to another. The words, the ſyllables, which enter into the compoſition of a Diſcourſe, have different ſounds; the ſound of ſome is clear, the ſound of others is obſcure: One fills the mouth, another is pronounced with a feeble tone. All do not require the ſame diſpoſition of the organs of the voice, and that inequality cauſes the different pronnciations. To ſupport a Diſcourſe, and render it equal, we muſt help the cadence of a weak word, with another that carries a ſtronger pronunciation; and on the contrary, tempering the force of one word by the gentlenes of another, order it ſo, that the precedent words diſpoſe the voice to the pronunciation of the ſubſequent, that the voice may fall by degrees.

I might add other Precepts, but [Page] what I have ſaid is ſufficient for their Reflexion who would write accurately upon thoſe things which are neceſſary to be conſidered in the ranging of words. The principal, and almoſt the only, profit to be drawn from theſe Precepts, is that they make us regard ſeveral things, which perhaps would not otherwiſe occur to our thoughts. And farther to perſwade you of the uſefulneſs of theſe Precepts about the diſpoſition of Words, obſerve I pray, that the Anomala, or irregularities crept into ſeveral Languages, are admitted to avoid thoſe Faults which we have decried. This is the reaſon of thoſe multitude of pricks which ſupply the place of Vowels in the Hebrew Language. This is the reaſon of the different long and ſhort Points which are chang'd according to the different Inflexions of the Verbs, and the diſpoſition of Notes ſignified by the Elevations, Depreſſions, and Repoſes of the Voice. This is the reaſon of that word Sceva, which ſometimes is, and ſometimes is not pronounced. It is only to equal the pronunciation, [Page] to ſtrengthen it by long Points where there is occaſion, and to leſſen it by their brevity, when the equality of the pronunciation requires it.

The nicety of the Greeks is well known. I will not loſe time to let you ſee how to avoid the unpleaſing concourſe of two Conſonants with Aſpirations, they change the firſt into a tenuem that anſwers to it, ſaying for example [...] for [...]: How to fill up the void ſpace which happens ſometimes betwixt two Vowels, of two words they make but one, for example [...], they pronounce [...]; or inſert a Conſonant, as [...] for [...]. How they uſe not this Artifice when one of the Vowels is long, and has a ſound ſtrong enough to diſtinguiſh it, as [...]. You know already that to fortify the pronunciation, when the word following begins with an Aſpiration, it changes the tenuem into an aſperum at the end of the firſt word, as [...] for [...] having a rough Spirit, requires a ſtrong [Page] pronunciation, which would be hard to do, after you have pronounc'd the tenues K & T. whoſe Sounds are but weak. The Grammarians obſerve that the Greeks ſay [...] in the Pretertenſe of the Medium, for [...] to avoid the triple repetition of the ſame Conſonant [...].

Every man can makie the ſame Reflexions upon the Latin, and generally upon all Languages that he knows. The great number of words in every Language, that are diverſify'd in their terminations, and the number of their Syllables; the abundance of Expreſſions (ſome of which are ſhort, and ſome long) were invented only to make their Sentences equal, and give them means to chooſe in that variety, the moſt commodious words and phraſes, and rejecting ſuch as could not be handſomly joyn'd, in compoſitine rixantes, ſupply their places with thoſe that are more convenient.

CHAP. II.

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I.
Words are Sounds. Conditions neceſſary to make Sounds agreeable. The firſt Condition. A Violent Sound is diſagreeable: A moderate Sound pleaſes.

WE have ſeen in the Fore-going Chapter what is to be avoided in the ranging of Words▪ that they may not offend the Ear. Let us in this ſee what we are to do to make the Sounds made by theſe words agreeable and pleaſing: All things that are moderate are pleaſing; thoſe Meats which move the Nerves of the Tongue ſoftly, affect the Soul with the pleaſure of Sweetneſs: Thoſe Meats which prick the Nerves, or act upon them with violence, are ſharp, piquant, or bitter. The heat of Fire cauſes pain; the rigour of Cold is inſupportable; a moderate Heat is uſeful for [Page] Health, and freſh Ayre is agreeable God has decreed (to render the priſon of his Body agreeable to the Soul of Man, and make him love it) that whatever happens to the Body, and diſturbs not its good diſpoſition, ſhould give him content. It is pleaſing to ſee, to feel, to touch, to taſte, &c. There is not a ſenſe that we can want without trouble. The ſenſe of a ſound muſt then be pleaſing to the Ear, when it ſtrikes it with moderation. Soft Sounds ſtrike with moderation upon the Organs of Hearing. Thoſe Sounds which offend them are irkſome and diſagreeable.

II.
The Second Condition; A Sound ought to be diſtinct, and by Conſequence strong enough to be heard.

BUt a Sound ought likewiſe to be ſtrong enough to be heard: Meats that are inſipid, do rather ſpoil the Appetite, than provoke it: We are [Page] forc'd to ſeaſon and make them reliſhable with Vinegar and Salt. It is with matters belonging to Senſation, as with matters belonging to knowledg that depend not upon the Body. An imperfect knowledg of a thing does but trouble and perplex the curioſity; and makes us but underſtand that we are ignorant. We reſent with ſome pain what we perceive but obſcurely. In a Sun-ſhiny day the proſpect of a Field is pleaſant; whatever we diſcern clearly, whether by the ſence or the mind, is pleaſant; and thus you have had two neceſſary conditions to make Sounds grateful. The firſt, that they be not ſo violent to diſturb the Ear; The Second, that they be clear, and diſtinctly to be heard.

III.
The Equality of Sounds contributes to the rendring them diſtinct, which is a Third Condition.

IT is not always the want of Force that renders the Senſe confus'd, but ſometimes inequality. Unequal [Page] Sounds that ſtrike the Organs ſtrongly or weakly, ſwiftly or flowly without proportion, trouble the mind, as diverſity of Affairs trouble a man who cannot apply himſelf to all of them at once. The ſight of a multitude of different Objects diſpos'd without order, is confus'd. In a Cabinet well-furniſh'd with Jewels, adorned with Pictures, Sculptures, Cutts, Meddals, Shells, &c. the ſight of all theſe Curioſities is not agreeable, if they be not diſpos'd with Order. Why is it that Trees planted in order are more delightful than thoſe that are ranged without Art, as Nature has diſpos'd them? Why is it that an Army drawn up in Battalia, is pleaſing and formidable at the ſame time? Many Reaſons may be given, but in my opinion it is the equality and order that renders our ſenſation more diſtinct. The clearneſs wherewith the mind perceives the things between which there is an equality and order, gives it ſatisfaction, and a full enjoyment of what it deſires. If there be no order betwixt the impreſſion of Sounds, they [Page] can never be diſtinguiſh'd by the Ear. In an aſſembly of ſeveral perſons where all ſpeak at a time, ſcarce one word is to be underſtood. In a regular Conſort, though compos'd of ſeveral Inſtruments and Voices, we underderſtand without confuſion or pain the ſound of every Inſtrument, and the Notes of every Voice; and this diſtinction makes them pleaſing to the Ear.

IV.
The Fourth Condition. Diverſity is as neceſſary as Equality, to make Sounds agreeable.

CIcero ſays very well, the Ear is hard to be pleas'd, Faſtidioſiſſimae ſun [...] aures. We many times diſpleaſe, when we deſign to pleaſe them. Equality is neceſſary, and without it our ſenſe is not diſtinct; we perceive things but confuſedly, and with trouble when we enjoy things imperfectly that we love and deſire: and yet this [Page] equality grows tedious and inſupportable when continued too long. The Ear is inconſtant as the reſt of the Senſes. Omnis voluptas habet finitimum faſtidium. The greateſt pleaſures are attended with diſguſt. Thoſe who underſtand the Art of Pleaſing, prevent theſe Diſguſts, and cauſe a ſucceſſive ſenſation of different pleaſures, overcoming by variety the difficult humour of men who are diſturb'd at all theſe things. 'Tis not only Fancy, and Caprichio, that makes variety neceſſary; Nature it ſelf requires it. A Sound tires the Ear by ſtriking upon it too long. In all actions diverſity is neceſſary, becauſe the pain being divided, each part of the Organ is the leſs oppreſs'd.

V.
The Fifth Condition is to unite and link together the former Conditions.

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IN appearance the two laſt Conditions are incompatible, and deſtructive the one to the other; But they agree very well, and equality and variety may conſiſt without any confuſion. There is in nothing more variety, than in a Garden of Flowers, there are Tulips, and Violets, and Roſes, &c. The Borders or Compartments are different, ſome round, ſome oval, ſome ſquare, ſome triangular. Yet if this Plot be conſider'd by a skilful man, the equality agrees well enough with the variety, being divided into Beds proportion'd one to the other, and adorn'd with regular Figures.

We will ſhow now how equality and variety may conſiſt in Sounds. It is this conſiſtency that makes the Conſort in Muſick; for, as Saint Auguſtine [Page] ſays well, the Ear cannot receive a greater contentment than what it feels when it is charm'd by diverſity of Sounds, and yet is not depriv'd of the pleaſure that equality gives it. Quid enim auribus jucundius potest eſſe, quam cum & veritate mulcen [...]ur, nec aequalitate fraudantur?

VI.
The Sixt Condition that this agreement of Equality and Diverſi [...]y be ſenſible, and what is to be obſerv'd to make it ſo.

THis agreement of equality and variety ought to be ſenſible, ſo as the temperament may be perceivable to the Ear. Wherefore all Sounds in which that Agreement is to be found, ought to be joyn'd, and the ear ought in like manner to hear them without any conſiderable interruption. The Symmetry of a Building cannot be obſerv'd when we ſee but one part of it. For this reaſon a skilful Architect [Page] orders things ſo, that as far as is poſſible his Houſe may be conſider'd at a ſingle view. That the Ear may diſcern the order and proportion of ſeveral Sounds, it is neceſſary that they be compar'd: In all compariſons 'tis ſuppos'd the terms of the Compariſon are preſent, and joyn'd one with the other, and it is this union that makes the Beauty and Pleaſure of Harmony. Plus delectant omnia qu [...] ſingula, ſi poſſint ſentiri omnia.

VII.
What the Ear diſtinguiſhes in the Sound of Words, and what it may perceive with delight.

THeſe Conditions are neceſſary to all Sounds to make them agreeable, whether it be to the ſounds of the Voice, or of Inſtruments; yet I have deſign'd to ſpeak only of the Sounds of Humane Voices, which I diſtinguiſh into two ſorts, Forc'd, and Natural. [Page] The forc'd Voice is uſed in Singing, when the Air that makes the ſound is forc'd with violence from the Lungs. The Natural Voice is that which we uſe when we ſpeak, it is form'd with eaſe, and wearies not the Organs like the other. What I ſhall ſay hereafter in this Treatiſe, relates only to the Natural Voice. Let us ſee now how we may make the Sounds or Words have ſuch conditions as may render them agreeable to the Ear.

We may without much difficulty range our Diſcourſe in ſuch manner, that the pronunciation be neither too violent nor ſaint; that it be moderate and diſtinct, and that our Diſcourſe by conſequence have the two firſt conditions. The firſt Chapter has been ſpent intirely in inſtructing what is to be done, and what to be avoided, that our Diſcourſe may not grate upon the ear, but be heard diſtinctly. We have ſhown how carefully we are to avoid the concurrence of two ruff Conſonents; How we are to fill up the void ſpaces betwixt words where the courſe of the pronuntiation would be ſtop'd▪ [Page] With what prudence we are to correct the rufneſs of ſome Syllables with the ſoftneſs of others; in a word, how we may equal the pronunciation, and ſuſtain the ſound of weak Letters, by aſſociating them with ſtronger.

The Four other Conditions may be found in different manners in Diſcourſe. The Ear perceives ſeveral things in pronunciation, beſid [...]s the ſound of the Letters. Firſt, it judges of the meaſure of time in which each Letter, each Syllable, each Word, each expreſſion, is pronounc'd. Next, it judges of the Elevations and Depreſſions of the Voice, by which in ſpeaking, each word, each expreſſion, is diſtinguiſhed. In the third place the Ear obſerves the ſilence or repoſe of the Voice at the end of Words or Sentences, when we joyn or ſeparate words: when we cut off a Vowel, and ſeveral other things compriz'd under the name of Accents, the knowledg of which is abſolutely neceſſary for pronunciation. Theſe accents may be very numerous: There are more than [Page] thirty of them in the Hebrew Grammers. If you will believe Servius Honoratus there are eight among the Latins. The Sharp figured thus (´) which ſhows when the Voice is to be raiſed. The Grave (`) when it is to be depreſs'd. The Circumflex compos'd of the Sharp and the Grave as thus ( [...] or [...]) the Long deſcrib'd thus (-) which ſhows that the Voice is to ſtop upon the Vowel that has that mark: The Short which ſhows that the time of pronunciation ought to be ſhort (˘) the Hyphen or Conjunction that implys two words are to be joyn'd as Male-ſanus. The Diaſtole or Diviſion, (,) which ſhows they are to be ſeparated; the Apoſtrophe (') which ſhows there is a Vowel to be rejected. The Diaſtole and the Apoſtrophe have the ſame mark, with this difference, that in the Apoſtrophe it is plac'd at the top of the Letter, ad Caput literae; in the Diaſtole in the bottom, ad pedem.

But we may order it ſo that the Ear may receive all theſe with delight, by obſerving the four conditions promis'd, [Page] diſpoſing (for example) our words with ſuch Artifice, that the Meaſures of the time of our pronunciation be equal; that the pauſes of the Voice or intervals of Reſpiration be ſuitable; that the Voice be rais'd or debaſed with equal degrees. We may joyn Equality with Variety, by making ſeveral of thoſe conjoyn'd meaſures to be equal, though the parts of which they are compos'd be unequal, and by ordering things ſo that the Ear may receive this temperament with pleaſure: but this requires longer Explication.

CHAP. III.

I.
The Art to render Pronunciation agreeable is to be uſed with Prudence.

BEfore we demonſtrate the Utility of the Obſervations made in the [Page] former Chapter, now whilſt we ſpeak of the Art of Pleaſing, and are wholly imploy'd to find out in Diſcourſe what is pleaſing to the Ear; it is convenient to reflect upon this Maxim, that the moſt agreeable things are diſagreeable in ſeveral caſes. Divertiſement is not at at all times ſeaſonable; working and playing are not to be uſed together; we never ſtep in meaſure, when we follow our affairs. When we are ſimply to diſcover our thoughts, when we are only to make the people ſenſible what we have in our minds: a man of judgment will not alwayes trouble himſelf to conſider exactly, and meaſure his words, nor take the pains to place preciſely the pauſes of his Pronunciation. Pleaſure is not pleaſure but where it is deſir'd; if it comes unſeaſonably, it diſpleaſes, becauſe it diverts our Application from what it was ſeriouſly fixt upon.

[Page] Diſcourſe then is to be diſtinguiſh'd into two Kinds, Natural and Artificial. Natural Diſcourſe is that which is us'd in Converſation to expreſs our ſelves, to inſtruct and ſignifie the motions of our Will, and the thoughts of our Mind. Artificial Diſcourſe is uſed to pleaſe, and with all poſſible art (beyond the Natural and Familiar way) to charm and allure our Auditors. In Natural Diſcourſe, it is ſufficient if we obſerve exactly what has been preſcrib'd in the firſt Chapter of this Book, not but that Art may be call'd in ſometimes to our aſſiſtance: Matters of natural Diſcourſe are not always ſo auſtere, but they may admit of ſome little Divertiſement.

No man is ignorant of the difference betwixt Verſe and Proſe; it is ſufficiently manifeſt, the Diſcourſe that is tyed up to the ſtrict Rules▪ of Verſification, is far from a free Diſcourſe, as that is which we uſe when we talk naturally and without art. For this reaſon Diſcourſes in Verſe are call'd particularly artificial. We are [Page] oblig'd to begin this Art of which we are treating, by ſhowing how we may give to free and natural Diſcourſe, (that is to ſay to Proſe) the conditions that render Sounds agreeable, without intrenching upon its liberty. After which, in order we ſhall come to artificial Diſcourſe, as Verſe, &c. This Art in Proſe is reducible to two things, either to render our Proſe Periodical, or Figurative. Let us ſee now what is a Period, and what a Figure; how we may render a Diſcourſe Periodical, and how Figurative.

II.
How we are to diſtribute the Intervals of Reſpiration, that the repoſe of the Voice may be proportionable.

WE are oblig'd to take breath from time to time; the neceſſity [Page] of being underſtood, makes us ſtop commonly at the end of every expreſſion to reſpire, that the repoſe of the Voice may ſerve to render our Diſcourſe more clear, and give us power to re-aſſume new force for the continuation of our Speech. The Voice does not repoſe equally at the end of every ſenſe; in a Sentence where there is much compriſed, we repoſe a little at the end of every Comma; yet this repoſe hinders not from perceiving, that we would ſpeak farther. That part of a perfect ſenſe, which makes part of a greater ſentence, is call'd in Greek [...], in Latin, Inciſum. When we hear this part of an entire ſenſe, the Ear is not ſatisfi'd, becauſe the pronunciation remains ſuſpended till the Sentence be finiſhed. For example, when we begin▪ Cum Regium ſit bene facere, & audire male, ſeeing it is a Royal quality to do right where we receive wrong. The Ear is attentive, and diligent to underſtand what follows. The Greeks call a perfect [Page] ſenſe that makes but a part of a more compleat Sentence, [...], the Latins Membrum, a Member. The Ear is pleas'd with the part of a Sentence, but yet hankers after ſomething that may render it compleat. Si quantum in agris, lociſ (que) deſertis audacia poteſt, tantum in foro at (que) judiciis impudentia valeat: If impudence could do as much at the Bar in Courts of Juſtice, as Courage could do in the field. You may find by your Ear that there is ſence in what is ſayd, and the Ear is in ſome meaſure ſatisfy'd; but yet there remains a deſire of ſomething to make it more compleat, and there is ſomething wanting to the Body of the Sentence, though the Members are ſufficiently intelligible.

The Voice cannot repoſe but by depreſſing; nor begin again but by elevating it ſelf; for which reaſon in each Member there are two parts. Elevation and Depreſſion of the Voice. [...], and [...]. The Voice repoſes not abſolutely, but at the end [Page] of a Sentence: not debaſes it ſelf, but by finiſhing the pronunciation of a Sentence. When the Members which compoſe the body of a Sentence are equal; and the Voice in pronouncing them repoſes by equal Intervals; advances and falls again with proportion; the expreſſion of that Sentence is call'd a Period. 'Tis a word which is borrow'd from the Greeks, and ſignify's in Latin Circuitus. Periods comprehend (like a Circumference) all the Sences which are Members of the Body of a Sentence. The Art of compoſing Periods conſiſts (as is manifeſt) in equalling and proportioning the expreſſions of each Member of a Sentence. Let us ſee now how that is to be done.

III.
The Compoſition of Periods.

TO compoſe a Period, or (which is the ſame thing) to expreſs a [Page] Sentence that is compos'd of two or more ſeveral Sences, with ſuch art, that the expreſſions in the ſaid Sentence may have the Conditions neceſſary to pleaſe the Ear; we muſt firſt provide that the expreſſions be not too long, and that the whole Period be proportion'd to the breath of him who is to pronounce it. We muſt have an eye to all contain'd in the ſentence that we would comprize in one Period: We may make choice of Expreſſions cloſe, or extended; and retrench, or add, as we find convenient, to give it a juſt length: But we muſt have a care not to inſert Periods that are uſeleſs and weak to fill up Vacancy's, and compleat the Cadence of the Period. Inania Complementa, & ramenta numerorum.

2. The expreſſions of particular ſences, that are Members of the Body of a Sentence, ought to be equal, that the Voice may repoſe at the end of theſe Members by equal Intervals. The more this Equality is exact, the more it is pleaſant; as we may ſee in this [Page] example. Haec eſt enim non facta, ſed nata lex; quam non didicimus, accepimus, legimus, verum ex Natura ipſa arripuimus, hauſimus, expreſſimus: ad quam non docti, ſed facti; non inſtituti, ſed imbuti ſumus.

3. A Period ought to conſiſt at leaſt of two Members, and at moſt but of Four: A Period is to have at leaſt two Members, becauſe its Beauty proceeds from the equality of the Members, and equality ſuppoſes at leaſt two termes. The Maſters of this Art would not have four Members crowded into one period, becauſe being too long, the pronunciation muſt be forc'd, which muſt by conſequence be diſpleaſing to the Ear, becauſe a Diſcourſe that is incommodious to the Speaker can never be agreeable to the hearer.

4. The Members of a Period ought to be joynd cloſe, that the ear may perceive the equality of the Intervals of Reſpiration: For this cauſe the Members of a Period ought to be united by the union of a ſingle Sentence, of the body of which they are Members. [Page] This union is very diſcernable, for the Voice repoſes at the end of every Member, only the better to continue its courſe: It ſtops not quite, but at the end of the whole Sentence. A Period, like a Circle, incompaſſes and incloſes the whole ſence of a Sentence, and cauſes the ear with eaſe to perceive the diſtinction or union of its Members.

5. The Voice is elevated or depreſs'd in each Member: The two parts where the inflexions are made, ought to be equal, that the degrees of Elevation and Depreſſion may correſpond. In pronouncing an entire Period, we raiſe our Voice to the middle of the Sentence, and let it fall gradually afterward. The two parts call'd [...], and [...], muſt correſpond by their Equality.

6. Variety may be in a Period two wayes: In the ſenſe, and in the words. The ſenſe of each Member of the Period ought to differ among themſelves: In Diſcourſe variety falls in of it ſelf. We cannot expreſs the different thoughts of our mind, but by [Page] different words of different ſignifications. But a Period may be compos'd of two Members, of three Members, and ſometimes of four Members. Equal Periods are not to follow one another too near; it is beſt when Diſcourſe flows with moſt liberty: The exact and preciſe equality of the Intervals for Reſpiration, may become troubleſome.

IV.
Examples of ſome Latin Periods: Periods are Pronounc'd with Eaſe.

THe Cadence of the French Language being not ſo intelligible, I ſhall preſent ſome paſſages in Cicero that I have choſen for examples of the Latin Periods. An example of a Period of two Members. 1. Antequam de Republica, (Patres conſcripti) di [...]am ea quae dicenda ſunt hoc tempore. 2. Exponam breviter Conſilium & profectionis & reverſionis. The following Period has three members. 1. Nam cum antea, per aetatem, hujus auctoritatem [Page] loci contingere non auderem; 2. Statuerem (que) nihil huc niſi perfectum industria, elaboratum ingenio offerri oportere. 3. Meum tempus omne amicorum temporibus tranſmittendum putavi. This laſt conſiſts of Four Members. 1. Si quantum in agro, lociſ (que) deſertis audacia poteſt. 2. Tantum in foro, ac in Judiciis impudentia valeret. 3. Non minus in cauſa cederet Aulus Coecinna, Sexti Aebuſii imp [...] dentiae. 4. Quantum in vi facienda ceſſit audaciae.

Sometimes we conclude the end of each member of a Period with terminations almoſt alike, which produces an equality in the Cadences of Members, and makes the Period more harmonious; as may be obſerv'd in ſeveral examples, where all the Periods are not equally ſtudyed.

The care that we take to place properly the repoſe of the voice in the Periods, makes us pronounce them without pain; and it has been obſerv'd, that things of eaſieſt pronunciation are moſt grateful to the Ear. Id auribus noſtris gratum eſt inventum,[Page]quod hominum lateribus non ſolum tolerabile, ſed etiam facile eſſe poteſt. This reaſon obliges an Orator to ſpeak Periodically. Periods maintain Diſcourſe, and are pronounc'd with certain Majeſty that gives weight to the words. But it is to be conſider'd that this majeſty is unſeaſonable when it follows the motions of Paſſion, whoſe precipitation ſuffers not any regular way of ranging, and compoſing our words. A Diſcourſe equally periodical cannot be pronounc'd but coldly, Paſſion admits not of Rules; Periods (as I ſay'd before) are not good, but when we would ſpeak with Authority, or delight the Ear. We cannot run and walk in Cadence at the ſame time.

V.
The Figurative ranging of Words, and in what theſe Figures conſiſt.

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WE have ſayd at large in the Second Book, that Figures in Diſcourſe are the characters of the agitations of the mind; that words do follow upon theſe agitations; and that when we ſpeak naturally, the paſſion that cauſes us to ſpeak, deſcribes it ſelf in our words. The Figures of which we are ſpeaking are different, they are traced at leiſure by a mind that is quiet. The firſt are made by ſally's; they are violent, they are ſtrong, proper to conteſt and vanquiſh a mind that oppoſes the truth: Thoſe of which we are ſpeaking are without that force, and unfit for any thing but Diverſion. I ſpeak of thoſe that are elaborate and ſtudyed; for it may happen that the condition of theſe laſt Figures wherewith we adorn our Diſcourſe for Divertiſement, may be found by accident in thoſe Figures which we prepare for Diſpute.

[Page] We have ſhown in the firſt Chapter, that the repetition of the ſame word, the ſame letter, or the ſame ſound, is unpleaſant: But we have obſerv'd in the Second Chapter that when that repetition is made with art, it is not ungrateful to the ear. In ſhort, the moſt diſagreeable ſounds are pleaſing when deliver'd with fit Intervals. The noiſe of a Hammer is unpleaſant, yet when the Smith ſtrikes upon his Anvil with proportion, it makes a kind of Conſort that is pleaſing to the Ear. We cannot repeat a ſound, a letter, or word, but it makes our Diſcourſe figurative; The Art of Figures conſiſts in the repetition of a letter; of the ſame termination; of the ſame word, by proportionated time, and equality of interval, ſometime in the beginning, ſometime in the end, and ſometime in the middle of a Sentence; as may be ſeen in the examples of theſe figures, which I have drawn for the moſt part out of very good Poets.

Figures may be infinite, becauſe the repetition that makes them may be made infinite ways, and all of them [Page] different. We may repeat the ſame word ſimply without altering the ſignification, as My God, my God, why haſt thou forſaken me? Or we may change the ſignification of the word,

Ʋn Pere eſt toujours Pere, & malgre ſon courroux,

Quand il nous veut frapper, l'amour retient ſes coups.

A Father's still a Father, when his rage

Prompts him to ſtrike, his Love does it aſſwage.

The Second word Father is taken for the motions of tenderneſs which Fathers feel for their Children.

Sometimes the ſame expreſſion is repeated in the beginning of every member of a Diſcourſe.

Il n'est crimes abominables,

Il n'eſt brutales actions,

Il n'est infames paſſions

Dont les mortels ne ſoient coupables, &c.

[Page] There are no abominable Crimes,

There are no brutiſh actions,

There are no infamous paſſions

Of which man is not guilty.

Sometimes the ſame word is placed at the beginning, and end of a Sentence.

Vengez-vous dans le temps, de mes fautes paſſees,

Mais dans l'Eternite ne vous en vengez pas.

Revenge in time my frailties and my faults;

But in Eternity revenge them not.

Sometimes the ſame word is plac'd at the end of one Member, and the beginning of the next; ſometimes at the beginning of a Member, and the end of the next. Sometimes the ſame words are repeated in the middle of the Members of a Sentence. Sometimes they are repeated in all the Members; ſomtimes in the ſame member the ſame [Page] words are uſed at the beginning, and then inverting the Order, placed in the end.

There is a ſort of Repetition which is made by giving a leſſer tranſpoſition of the repeated word.

There is another way wherein all theſe repetitions are made at the ſame time; as in this example taken out of Proſper.

No man do's Grace prevent; each good deſire

Is kindled in him by that ſacred fire.

So 'tis the way that leads us in the way;

Without it's own light none beholds the day.

Who without God would go to God is blind,

And ſeeking Life, is certain death to find.

Rhetoricians give to theſe ſeveral Figures, (which are but ſeveral ſorts of Repetition to particular Names,) with which it is not neceſſary to oppreſs the memory of the Reader.

VI.
Reflections upon theſe Figures.

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I Never deſign'd to comprehend all ſorts of theſe Figures that may be poſſibly invented, I have thought it ſufficient to give ſome examples of them. Expreſſions figured in this manner may be valued for the ſenſe which they contain; but 'tis evident that theſe Figures of themſelves are worthy but of moderate eſteem. The art of making them is very obvious, and indeed too groſs: Our Language is natural, and loves them not, and the beſt of our Authors avoid them with more care than others affect them. They will ſcarce entertain them when they fall in of themſelves, and ſeem to come by chance. Meaner Wits are fond of theſe Figures, this feeble artifice being commenſurate to their ſtrength, and conformable to their Genius. Puerilibus ingeniis hoc gratius, quod propius est. Yet I am not ſo critical as to condemn all theſe Figures; the examples I have inſerted would riſe in judgment againſt me; [Page] Let us try then what we can ſay in their favour.

We compare all theſe Figures to the Knots and Figures of a Garden: As they are pleaſing to the eye by their variety, and order with which they are ingeniouſly diſpos'd; ſo the ſounds and words of a Diſcourſe being figured as we have directed, are as agreeable to the ear. Reaſon permits thoſe Figures when they are not too much affected, and fall in as it were by accident. They may likewiſe be compar'd to the Figures upon the works of Nature, where ſhe ſeems to ſport and delight her ſelf in diverſifying. A Traveller tires himſelf ſometimes in the contemplation of a ſhell, or a Flower. A melancholly Reader is reviv'd by this Figurative diſpoſition of words; the Figures renew his attention, and thoſe little Artifices do not diſpleaſe him. Some of theſe Figures I have obſerv'd in Holy Writ, and particularly in Iſaiah, the moſt eloquent of all the Prophets. The Fathers uſed them, either in complaiſance to that Age which delighted [Page] in them, or becauſe a Sentence is eaſier retain'd that runs with a Cadence. But continually to affect them is a very great fault. I know not how it comes about that men have ſo much eſteem for ſome Authors that are full of thoſe Affectations: I cannot think it a ſign of great Wit to ſpend whole dayes in ranking their words with an inconſiderable exactneſs. A Diſcourſe with this Artifice does not affect, nor make impreſſion upon a ſerious perſon; it takes only with thoſe who delight in ſporting with words, and belongs only to ſuch Authors as are empty of matter; rich only in trifles, and underſtand nothing but how to ſurprize the Common people with harmonious noiſe: Canoris Nugis.

CHAP. IV.

I.
Of the meaſure of Time in Pronunciation.

THe Voice does neceſſarily ſtop ſome time upon every Syllable, [Page] to make it diſtinct and intelligible. Our preſent Diſquiſition is about the Meaſure of Time in matter of Pronunciation; how to proportion it, and give it the conditions requiſite to ſuch things as the Ear perceives in pronunciation. The manner of Pronouncing is not the ſame in all Countrys. The pronunciation of the preſent Languages in Europe, is different from the pronunciation of the antient Languages as Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. In the preſent Languages we ſtop equally upon all Syllables, and the time in pronouncing all the Vowels is the ſame. In antient Languages the Vowels are diſtinguiſh'd by difference of time. Some are call'd long, becauſe pronounced in longer time; others are call'd ſhort becauſe their pronunciation is quicker.

We ought not to imagine that we pronounce at this day the Greek and the Latin, as the Greeks and Romans did of old. In their Diſcourſe they diſtinguiſh'd the quantity of every Vowel. We, when we pronounce a Latin word, obſerve only the time of [Page] the laſt Vowel but one. Though the laſt Vowel be ſhort, we pronounce it as if it were long. Yet Saint Auſtin tells us, that whoever in reading this verſe of Virgil, ‘Arma, virum (que) cano, Trojae qui primus aboris,’ Should pronounce primis for primus, is being long, and us ſhort, he ſhould ſpoil the harmony of the Verſe. Whoſe Ear among us is ſo delicate as to perceive this difference? Quis ſe ſentit deformitate ſoni offenſum? And yet the ears of the Romans in Saint Auguſtin's time were offended with this alteration.

We call Meaſure a certain number of Syllables diſtinguiſh'd and underſtood by the ear, ſeparatly from another number of Syllables: The union of two, or more Meaſures makes a Verſe. The Latin word Verſus ſignifies properly Ranged; and we give that name to words, becauſe in writing they are diſtinguiſhed from Proſe, [Page] which is a continued Line. Proſa Oratio, quaſi prorſa Oratio, Marius Victorinns tells us, that Verſus comes a Verſuris, that is a repetita Scriptura ea ex parte in quam deſinit. The Romans antiently writ by Purrows, having begun to write firſt from the left to the right hand, the ſecond Line was writ from the right to the left hand, as Oxen plough the ground; for which reaſon, as the ſame Author obſerves, that manner of writing was call'd Buſtrophe, a Boum verſatione.

II.
Of the making of Verſe.

EQual meaſures of Time in Pronunciation, cannot be agreeable (as we have ſaid before) unleſs they be diſtinguiſhable: For that, it is neceſſary that the Ear diſtinguiſhes theſe Meaſures, and at the ſame time that they are heard ſeparatly, that they be joyned together, ſo as the Ear comparing one with the other, may perceive [Page] their equality; which equality preſuppoſes at leaſt two Terms, and ſome diſtinction betwixt the ſayd Terms: For we do not ſay of two great things, that they are equal unleſs both of them be preſent to our mind. Beſides, the equality of Meaſures ought to be joyn'd with variety, as we have evinc'd at large in the Second Chapter; from whence we collect that the Artifice of the ſtructure of a Verſe conſiſts in the Obſervation of theſe four things.

1. Each meaſure ought to be heard diſtinctly, and ſeparatly from every other Meaſure.

2. Theſe Meaſures are to be equal.

3. Theſe Meaſures ought not to be the ſame; they muſt have ſome difference betwixt them, that their Variety and Equality may be united in the Meaſures.

4. This Alliance of Equality and Variety cannot be diſtinguiſhable in the Meaſures if they be not joyn'd one with the other. It is neceſſary therefore that the ear hears them both together; that it compares them; and [Page] that in the compariſon it perceives the equality that they have in their difference.

The pronunciation of Languages being different, the ſtructure of Verſe cannot be the ſame in all Languages: All their difference nevertheleſs is reducible to two Heads; for the Latin and Greek Poeſy do differ from the French, Italian, and Spaniſh Poeſy, only becauſe in theſe latter Languages they pronounce all the Syllables equally, as not having the diſtinction of ſhort and long Vowels. Wherefore I ſhall not be oblig'd to ſpeak particularly of the ſtructure of Verſe in each Language: It will ſuffice for my deſign to diſcover the Fundamental Rules of the Latin and French Poetry.

III.
How the Romans diſtinguiſh'd their meaſures. How many ſorts of Meaſures there are in the ſtructure of a Verſe.

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EVery Meaſure in the Latin Poetry is underſtood ſeparatly and diſtinctly by the elevation of the Voice at the beginning, and the depreſſion or relaxation of it at the end. Theſe Meaſures are call'd Feet, becauſe the Verſe ſeem to march or ſtep in Cadence by means of their Meaſure. So the Foot of a Latin verſe, as Victorinus obſerves, is form'd by the raiſing or relaxation of the Voice. Alterna ſyllabarum ſublatione & poſitione, pedes nituntur & formantur. The Romans beat their meaſure as they recited their Verſe: Plaudendo recitababant, Pedis pulſus ponebatur, tollebatur (que) from whence came this phraſe, Percutere pedes verſus, to diſtinguiſh the Feet or Meaſures of a Verſe.

[Page] To determine how many different Meaſures or Feet are uſed in the Latin Poetry, we muſt attentively obſerve theſe following Rules which are founded upon the neceſſity of rendring our Meaſures clear and diſtinct.

The Firſt Rule.

It is clear, and without diſpute, a Foot ought to conſiſt of two Syllables at leaſt; upon the firſt of which Syllables the Voice is to be rais'd; upon the Second it is to be depreſs'd to make it more remarkable.

The Second Rule.

The two Syllables of a Foot cannot be both ſhort, becauſe they would paſs too ſwiftly, and the Ear would not have time to diſtinguiſh two different degrees in the Voice that pronounces them, that is to ſay, an Elevation and Depreſſion.

The Third Rule.

Two ſhort Feet in pronunciation, are equivalent to one long. That is to ſay, the time of pronunciation in a long Vowel, is equal to the time of pronunciation of two ſhort Vowels.

The Fourth Rule.

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A Foot cannot be compos'd of more than two long Syllables, or two equivalent to two long Syllables; for thoſe in the middle, betwixt the two extreams, (upon which the Voice riſes and falls) will trouble the harmony, and hinder the equality of Meaſures, as I ſhall ſhow; at preſent I ſpeak only of ſimple Feet that may form a perfect harmony. Thoſe which are call'd compos'd Feet conſiſt of two ſimple Feet.

The Fifth Rule.

A Foot cannot be compos'd of above three Syllables: ſhould it conſiſt of four Syllables, they would be either all ſhort, or ſome of them long. If they were all ſhort, their pronunciation would be too glib, and by conſequence vicious; a Foot of four ſhort Syllables cannot be diſtinctly underderſtood. If in a Foot of four Syllables there be one long, and three ſhort, the long Syllable will not be equivalent to the three ſhort, which meaſure offends againſt the Fourth Rule.

The Sixth Rule.

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The Ear reduces always the compos'd Meaſures to the ſimple, becauſe ſimple things are underſtood and heard with more eaſe and diſtinction: So a Meaſure compos'd of Four long Syllables, is by the Ear reducible into Two.

Theſe Rules give us to underſtand that all Simple Feet conſiſt either of two or three Syllables: Let us now ſee how many ſorts may be of two Syllables, and how many of three.

A Foot conſiſting of two Syllables, both of them long, is call'd Spondaeus.

When it conſiſts of two ſhort Syllables, it is call'd Pyrrichus.

When the firſt of the two Syllables is long, and the ſecond ſhort, 'tis call'd Trochaeus.

When the firſt is ſhort, and the ſecond long, it is call'd Jambus.

In a Foot of three Syllables when they are all long, it is call'd Moloſſus.

When they are all ſhort, it is call'd Tribrachus.

[Page] When the firſt is long, and the two other ſhort, it is call'd Dactylus.

When the laſt is long, and the two firſt ſhort, it is call'd Anapaesteus.

When the firſt is ſhort, and the two laſt long, it is call'd Bachius.

When the two firſt are long, and the laſt ſhort, it is call'd Anti-Bachius.

When the two extreams are long, and the middle ſhort, it is call'd Amphi-macres.

When the two extreams are ſhort, and that in the middle long it is call'd Amphibrachus.

But all theſe Feet cannot be brought into Verſe, becauſe they have not the requiſite conditions in their Meaſure. Many are excluded in Poetry by the precedent Rules. The Pyrrichus by the Second: the Moloſſus by the Fourth: The Bachius and Anti-Bachius by the ſame Rule: The Amphimacres and the Ampbibracus by the Sixth; beſides this we ſhall make it appear that equality cannot be preſerv'd in the two laſt meaſures; ſo that there are in effect but ſix Feet, that is [Page] to ſay, the Spondaeus, the Trochaeus, the Jambus, the Tribrachus, the Dactylus, and the Anapaeſtus. There are ſeveral others nam'd, but all of them naturally reducible to theſe ſix ſorts of Feet.

IV.
Of the Quality of Meaſures.

WHen two Syllables are pronounc'd in equal time, the quantity or time of the ſayd Syllables are reckon'd to be equal. This Equality is found betwixt two Syllables, and a third, when in the ſame time that one of the ſayd Syllables is pronounc'd, we have leaſure to pronounce the other two. We ſay that the time of one ſyllable is either the double or treble of the time of a ſecond ſyllable, if in the time that we pronounce the one the other may be pronounc'd in the ſame ſpace of time twice or thrice: ſo the quantity of a long Syllable is double the time of a ſhort. When the time of the pronunciation of two Syllables can be meaſured by a preciſe meaſure, and the time of the pronunciation of the one is double to the [Page] time of pronunciation of the other, the proportion prevents confuſion, and makes the Ear perceive diſtinctly the quantity of the ſaid Syllables; for which reaſon it muſt neceſſarily pleaſe, ſeeing the Equality (as we have ſayd before) is agreeable only becauſe it renders Sounds diſtinct, and takes away confuſion. There is in every Meaſure or Foot an Elevation, and a Relaxation. Pes habet elationem & poſitionem. To the end therefore that Equality may be kept, the time of Elevation ought to be equal to the time of Relaxation. In a Spondaeus, the time of Relaxation, and Elevation perfectly equal, becauſe the Foot is compos'd of two long Syllables. It is the ſame in the Dactylus and Anapaeſtus, the time of the two ſhort Syllables being equal to the time of a long Syllable. In the Trochaeus and the Jambus the equality is not ſo exact, for the difference betwixt a long Syllable and a ſhort is not ſo diſtinguiſhible as to offend the Ear.

This is to be obſerv'd; a conſiderable ſilence is equivalent at leaſt to a [Page] ſhort quantity. So a Trochaeus is equivalent to a Spondaeus or a Dactylus, if after that Foot the voice repoſes and ſtops, and then the time of Relaxation is equal with the time of Elevation; which is of importance to be conſider'd, in anſwer to an Objection that may be rais'd againſt what we have ſayd, that a Meaſure or Foot does neceſſarily require two Syllables. In Odes there are feet to be found that conſiſt only of one long Syllable; but the Repoſe of the Voice, Diſtinctionis mora, where the ſilence that follows a long quantity, holds the place of a ſhort, with that long quantity, it makes a Trochaeus, which is a meaſure of two Syllables.

In this we may ſee the grounds of what we have ſayd before, that a foot cannot be compos'd of more than two long Syllables; for if the Elevation or Relaxation comprehends the intervenient Syllable, there will be no farther equality betwixt the two parts. If this Syllable be not compriz'd in either of the two parts of the meaſure [...] will add nothing to [Page] the harmony, and by conſequence be troubleſom. For this reaſon the Amphimacres, and the Amphibrachus cannot ſtand in a Verſe, becauſe there muſt be either a ſhort quantity betwixt two long; or a long quantity betwixt two ſhort; ſo that the intermediat Syllable not being to be joyn'd with either of the extremities, but by troubling the Equality, it becomes uſeleſs, and interrupts the harmony. And yet theſe quantities may be brought into an harmonious ſtructure, the times of their Elevation and Relaxation being proportionable. In a foot of three long Syllables (which we have call'd Moloſſus) the time of Relaxation upon the two laſt long Syllables, is double to the time of elevation upon the firſt long Syllable, for which reaſon the times are proportionable, and by conſequence may be agreeable to the Ear as we have ſayd before. So a Diſcourſe compos'd of a mixture of thoſe feet, may be harmonious. But in this caſe Verſe is excluded, becauſe the harmony of Verſe ought to be diſtinguiſhible, [Page] which cannot be, if the equality of the meaſures be not axactly obſerv'd. In an Jambus and a Trochaeus this equality is not to be kept; but the difference betwixt a ſhort quantity and a long is not much diſcernible, becauſe a ſhort quantity is pronounc'd quick. Whereas the inequality betwixt the parts of a meaſure of three long Syllables is very plain, being much greater; for two long are as much as four ſhort, V V V V, one long, is to two long as to V V, and one long is to one ſhort as to V. Victorinus tells us a ſhort is a quantity, and therefore as Servius Honorius obſerves, a Spondaeus has four times.

A meaſure is equal to another meaſure, when the time of their pronunciation is equal. The Spondaeus, the Dactylus, and the Anapaeſtus are of equal meaſures. Tempora elationis & poſitionis aequalia ſunt. The Trochaeus, the Jambus, and the Tribrachus are likewiſe of equal meaſures, for the two ſhort of the three of a Tribrachus being equivalent to the one long, that foot is equal to a Trochaeus, or an [Page] Jambus. The equality is not exactly juſt betwixt a Spondaeus, or an Jambus; but, as is ſayd, the difference being ſmall, a verſe may be well compos'd of the ſix ſort of Feet before mention'd, becauſe they are equal, or very near equal. We ſhall ſpeak hereafter of the placing of theſe feet.

V
Of the Variety of theſe Meaſures, and the Alliance of their Equality with their Variety.

VAriety is ſo neceſſary to prevent the diſguſt of the moſt agreeable things, that the Muſitians who accuratly endeavour the proportion and conſonance of Sounds, do always affect diſcord in their Harmony, that is to ſay, they neglect the perfect Uniſon of their Voice, that grating may, like Salt, provoke the appetite of the Ear. If therefore the Poets ſhould not approve the Rules we have given, we are not to be blam'd, becauſe to [Page] them we have added this, that we are to correct the ſweetneſs of the Equality, by the Salt (as I may call it) of the Variety.

Variety is found ſeveral ways in Latin verſe. I ſpeak not of that which conſiſts in the difference of Senſe, and the diverſity of words. Firſt, it is clear that in the Dactylus, the Trochaeus, the Jambus, the Anapaeſtus, and the Tribrarchus the Elevation is fardifferent, from the depreſſion or relaxation: and though the quantity of two ſhort Vowels be equal to a long, yet the Ear perceives a ſenſible difference betwixt a long Syllable and two ſhort, Syllables: ſo though the time or quantity of a Spondaeus, a Dactylus, and Anapaestus be equal, yet their difference is diſcernible. In dactylo tollitur una longa, ponuntur duae breves; In Anapaeſto tolluntur duae breves, ponitur una longa; S: in ſpondaeo tollitur & ponitur una longa.

A Verſe is not commonly made of one ſort of feet; Hexameters are made of Spondy's and Dactyles. Pentameters of Spondy's, Dactyles, and Anapoeſtis. [Page] Jambicks of ſeveral ſorts of Feet. Lyrick, are more diverſify'd than others; becauſe they not only receive different Feet, but alſo the number of their feet is unequal, ſometimes more and ſometimes leſs.

A Verſe compoſed wholly of Spondes, or wholly of Dactyles, would not pleaſe; we muſt temper the ſwiftneſs of the Dactyle, by the ſlowneſs and gravity of the Sponde: An Jambick may be made perfectly of Jambuſes, becauſe that Verſe paſſing exceeding ſwift, though it conſiſts of ſix Feet, ſeems to have but three. Wherefore the too great equality of Meaſures in ſo ſmall a number, cannot be troubleſom, as is evident in this verſe.

Suis & ipſa Roma viribus ruit.

The meaſures in an Hexameter are large, but very ſenſible: ſo if their equality be not accompanyed with variety, the Verſe is diſagreeable.

Lyrick Verſe is compos'd commonly of ſeveral ſorts of Feet; becauſe that Verſe being deſign'd to be Sung [Page] in Muſick, the Harmony would not be pleaſing, if the difference of Feet, did not afford occaſion to the Muſicians to diverſifie their Voices.

The allyance of Variety and Equality is manifeſt in Latin Poeſy. It is evident, for example, that in a Dactyle equality and variety is to be found; Equality, becauſe the time of two ſhort Syllables is equivalent to the long; and Variety, becauſe as we have ſayd, the Ear diſtinguiſhes very well of the difference betwixt one long Syllable and two ſhort. Though the Verſes be compos'd of different Feet, yet all thoſe different feet are equal, becauſe the time of their pronunciation is equal.

VI.
How the Romans made the Allyance of the Equality and Variety of their Verſe diſtinguiſhable.

THe Latins joyn'd their meaſures in Verſe, by Sections or Retrenchment, [Page] of certain Syllables, of the precedent word, to make a foot, with the Syllables in the beginning of the following word; as for example.

Ille meas errare boves, &c.

The Syllable as in meas, is a Section; The Syllable as with the Syllable er in the following word errare making a Spondaeus. This Section is it that incorporates the meaſures, and preſents them together to the ear; for the voice not being uſed to ſtop in the middle of a word, and divide it, pronounces the following word ſwiftly, after it has once begun it. But this Section makes the feet to end and begin in the middle of a word; ſo the Voice that repoſes not in thoſe places, joyning the Syllables of each word, joyns the feet at the ſame time, and links them one within the other. This obſervation may be more viſible by cutting the two following Verſes into ſuch Sections.

Ille me—as er—rare bo—ves ut— [...]ernis &—ipſum

[Page] Ludere—quae vel—lem cala—mo per—miſit a—greſti.

The Voice diſtinguiſhes each of theſe Meaſures (as is ſayd before) by an Elevation at the beginning, and a relaxation at the end; but it binds alſo theſe Meaſures by theſe Sections. When the Voice has pronounc'd the Syllable me in meas, it pronounces as next, which makes part of the following Foot, and ſo joyns the firſt and the following Meaſure together. The Second Meaſure is joyn'd with the Third, for the Voice not ſtopping in the middle of the word, Errare, goes on without interruption, (after having ſay'd er) to the pronunciation of the end rare, by which means the Ear receives them united and joyn'd together. The third meaſure is joyn'd in the ſame manner with the Fourth. Verſe without Sections do not appear to be Verſe, becauſe (as we have ſayd) the Equality of Meaſures that makes the beauty of a Verſe, is not diſtinguiſhable, unleſs they be joyn'd, and the Ear ſenſible of their Conjunction. We may read the following words, and [Page] not obſerve that they make a Verſe, becauſe they want the aforeſaid Section.

Ʋrbem | fortem | cepit | nuper | fortior | hoſtis.

It remains now only that I ſpeak of the number of Meaſures requir'd in the compoſition of Verſe. It is clear a Verſe requires at leaſt two Meaſures. We have ſhown that it is the equality of theſe Meaſures that pleaſes the Ear, when the ſaid Meaſures being preſented to it, it perceives the equality by comparing them one with another: But, as has been often ſayd, all compariſon preſuppoſes at leaſt two terms. If the number of theſe Meaſures be too great, it is plain the Ear that ought to conſider them all together, will be overlay'd and oppreſs'd with the greatneſs of their number. Wherefore a Verſe is never compos'd of above ſix great Meaſures, ſuch as the Sponde's and the Dactyles. An Jambick is capable of eight Feet, becauſe as aforeſayd, the [Page] Foot which denominates that Verſe, paſſes very quick, and eight of thoſe meaſures make but Four of the Greater.

VII.
Of the French Poetry.

THe French diſtinguiſh the meaſures of their Verſe after another manner than the Romans. The French elevate the Voice at the beginning of the Sentence, and abate it only at the end of a Sentence; wherefore if a meaſure in French Poeſy ſhould begin in the middle of one word, and conclude in the middle of another word, the Voice could not diſtinguiſh by any inflexion, the ſayd meaſure as it does in Latin. To put diſtinction therefore betwixt the meaſures, and that the Ear may perceive that diſtinction by Elevation of the Voice at the beginning, and depreſſion at the end, each meaſure ought to contain [Page] a perfect ſenſe; which makes the meaſure large, and ſo as a French Verſe is ſeldom compos'd of above two Meaſures, which parts it in two equal parts, of which the firſt is call'd Hemiſtick. So the meaſures of the French Verſe are diſtinguiſh'd after a natural way, for naturally and without any art we raiſe the Voice at the beginning of an expreſſion with a compleat ſenſe, and we let the Voice fall naturally at the end of a compleat ſenſe. The Equality of the meaſures depends upon an equal number of Vowels; in the French Language all the Vowels are pronounc'd with equal time: It is evident, if two Expreſſions have an equal number of Vowels, the times of their pronunciations are equal.

The equality of two meaſures of which every Verſe is compos'd, can give but an indifferent pleaſure, ſo we commonly joyn two Verſes together which make four Meaſures: This conjunction is made by the union of the ſame ſenſe. To render this Conjunction the more ſenſible, the Verſes [Page] which comprehend the ſame ſenſe, are made to Rime, that is, to end both in the ſame manner. Nothing is more perceptible to the Ear, than the ſound of words: So Rime that is nothing but repetition of the ſame ſound, is very proper for the better diſtinction of the meaſures of Verſe. When upon the declenſion of the Empire, they began to give the ſame quantity to all the Vowels, the Poets troubled themſelves no farther than for Rime, and to equal the expreſſions which they ended by thoſe Rimes. This way of making Verſes is very ſimple, and quickly tyreſom, unleſs we be careful to occupy the mind of the Reader by the richneſs and variety of our thoughts, ſo as it may not be ſenſible of their ſimplicity.

I ſhall ſhow in few words the Fundamentals of the French Poetry, and to render what I have ſayd the more intelligible, apply the ſame to the two following Verſes.

Je chante cette guerre

Ou Pharſale jugeae.

En cruaute feconde,

de l'Empire du Monde.

[Page] The Ear perceives only two Meaſures in each of theſe Verſes, and diſtinguiſhes them by raiſing of the Voice in the beginning, and the depreſſion of it at the end of each of the Meaſures, which contain a perfect ſenſe. The Four Meaſures of theſe two Verſes are bound together by the union of the ſame ſenſe, and by the Rime. Beſides the equality of time, we may obſerve that the equality of the repoſe of the Voice (which is repos'd in pronouncing our Verſe by equal Intervals) contributes much to their beauty: I ſpeak not of the different works in Verſe, Alexandrin's Sonnets, Stanzas, &c. Thoſe Verſes differ among themſelves only by the number of their Syllables: Some are compos'd of longer, ſome of ſhorter, meaſures. In ſome the Rimes are intermixed.

As among the Latins works are compos'd of different ſorts of Verſe, ſo among the French they couple ſhort Verſe and long Verſe together. The Art that is uſed in theſe kind of Works has nothing in it difficult enough [Page] to deſerve our explanation.

It is not ſufficient to give a Verſe its juſt meaſure; to have regard to the quantity or time of every Vowel, or to the number of the ſame Vowels; Their Concourſe, and the Concourſe of Conſonants with which they are found, augment or leſſen their Meaſures. Betwixt words of the ſame quantity, or words that contain an equal number of Vowels, ſome are ruff, ſome ſweet, ſome fluent, others languiſhing; wherefore to render the meaſures of a Verſe equal, (whether it be in Latin, or whether it be in French,) we ought to have near as much care to the Conſonants as to the Vowels.

CHAP. V.

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I.
There is a strange ſympathy betwixt the Soul and Numbers; and what Numbers are.

WE have ſeen that a Diſcourſe is agreeable when the times of the Pronunciation of Syllables which compoſe it are meaſured by exact meaſures; That the time, (for example) of a Syllable is exactly either the double or treble time of another Syllable. The exacteſt meaſures are thoſe which are expreſs'd by numbers. In Geometry all exact Reaſons are call'd Rationes numeri ad numerum: and therefore the Maſters in the Art of Speaking have thought good to call Numeros whatever the Ear perceives of proportion in the pronunciation of a Sentence, whether it be the proportion of the meaſure of Time, or a juſt diſtribution of the Intervals of Reſpiration. Cicero de Orat. lib. 3. tells us, Numeroſum eſt id in omnibus ſonis [Page]at (que) Vocibus, quod habet quaſdam impreſſiones, & quod metiri poſſumus intervallis aequalibus. And Numeroſa Oratio in Latin, is the ſame as an elegant or harmonious Diſcourſe with us. The Cadence of a ſtudied Diſcourſe is likewiſe call'd a number. Saint Augustin obſerves that our Souls have a ſympathy and allyance with theſe numbers; and that the different motions of the mind do correſpond and follow certain Tones of the Voice, to which the Soul has a ſecret inclination. Mira animi noſtri cum numeris cognatio: Omnes affectus Spiritus noſtri pro ſui diverſitate habent pro prios modos in voce, quorum neſcio qua occulta familiaritate connectantur. Longinus that excellent Critick, tells us that theſe numbers are inſtruments very proper to provoke or agitate our Paſſions.

To ſearch into the Cauſes of this marvellous ſympathy betwixt Numbers and our Soul, and how they come to that power and efficacy upon our paſſions, we muſt know that the motions of the mind, do follow [Page] the motions of the Animal Spirits; as thoſe Spirits are ſlow or quick, calm or turbulent, the mind is affected with different Paſſions: The leaſt force is able to obſtruct or excite the Animal Spirits, their reſiſtance is but ſmall; and their Levity is the cauſe that the leaſt unuſual motion determines them; the leaſt motion of a ſound puts them in agitation. Our Body is ſo diſpos'd, that a ruff and boyſterous ſound forcing our Spirits into the Muſcles, diſpoſes it to flight, and begets an averſion, in the ſame manner as a frightful Object begets horror by the eye. On the other ſide a ſoft and moderate ſound, attracts and invites our attention. If we ſpeak lowd or haſtily to a Beaſt, it will run from us; by ſpeaking gently, we allure and make it tame. From whence we may collect that diverſity of Sounds do produce diverſity of motions in the Animal Spirits.

Every motion that is made in the Organs of Senſe, and communicated to the Animal Spirits, is connext by the God of Nature, to ſome certain [Page] motion of the Soul; Sound can excite paſſions, and we may ſay, that every paſſion anſwers to ſome ſound or other; which is it, that excites in the Animal Spirits, the motion wherewith it is allyed. This Connexion is the cauſe of our Sympathy with Numbers, and that naturally, according to the Tone of the Speaker, our Reſentment is different. If a Tone be languiſhing and doleful, it inſpires ſadneſs; if it be lowd and brisk, it begets vivacity and courage; ſome Ayres are gay, and others Melancholly.

To diſcover the particular Cauſes of this Sympathy, and explain how among the numbers, ſome produce ſadneſs, ſome joy, we ſhould conſider the different motion of the Animal Spirits in each of our Paſſions. It is eaſy to be conceiv'd, that if the impreſſion of ſuch a ſound in the Organs of hearing is follow'd by a motion in the Animal Spirits like that which they have in a fit of Anger, (that is, if they be acted violently and with inequality) it may raiſe Choller, and continue it. On the contrary, if the [Page] impreſſion be doleful and melancholly, if the commotion it cauſes in the Animal Spirits be feeble and languiſhing, and in the ſame temper as commonly in Melancholly, what we have ſayd ought not to ſeem ſtrange; eſpecially if we reflect upon what has been deriv'd to us from many eminent Authors, relating to the ſtrange effects of Muſick. Some have affirm'd there were perſons who play'd ſo excellently upon the Flute, that they knew how to accommodate their Ayres to all kinds of Malady's, how to eaſe thoſe who were in pain, delight thoſe who were ſad, and recover thoſe who were ſick.

II.
When Numbers agree with the things that are expreſs'd, the Diſcourſe becomes more ſignificative and lively.

IT is not to be doubted but ſounds are ſignificative, and of power to [Page] renew the Idea's of ſeveral things: The ſound of a Trumpet, does it not put us in mind, and provoke us to Combate? Upon this ſcore Cicero ſpeaking of Thucydides that excellent Hiſtorian, tells us, that when he deſcribes a Battle, he does it with that Emphaſis and Elevation of Style, that makes us think our ſelves preſent, and that we heard the Trumpet indeed. De Bellicis ſcribens, concitatiori numero videtur bellicum canere. When we hear the noiſe of the Sea, we imagine it preſently, though perhaps it is out of our ſight: When we hear a man ſpeak that we know, his image preſents it ſelf to our mind, before we ſee him with our eyes. In a word, the Idea's of things have a ſecret Allyance and Connexion among themſelves, and do excite one another. It is not to be queſtion'd, but certain ſounds, certain Numbers, and certain Cadences, do contribute to awake the Images of things with which they have had allyance and connexion. Virgil is very happy in giving Cadence to his Verſe, that alone is ſufficient to excite the [Page] Idea's of the things he would ſignify. Who is it that reading theſe words

—Et altos

Conſcendit furibunda Rogos.—

would not conceive by the quickneſs and elevation of the Cadence, the precipitation wherewith Dido (the perſon meant in that place) threw her ſelf upon the Pyle which ſhe had prepar'd to burn her ſelf. When I read this deſcription of Sleep,

Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris

Incipit, & dono divum gratiſſima ſerpit;

Me-thinks it lulls me, and the ſmooth ſliding of the Verſe gives me an Idea of ſleep, that ſlides gently in my fancy without being perceiv'd. In this Speech of Sinon the Impoſtor, this doleful number

Heu! quae nunc tellus, inquit, quae me aequora poſſunt

[Page] Accipere, aut quid jam Miſero mihi deni (que) reſtat?

Is enough to excite compaſſion in the Trojans. Often-times the manner of delivering a thing, the poſture, the habits, are more Eloquent and Emphatical than the words. A neglected habit, a dejected poſture, a ſorrowful look, prevails more than argument, or intreaty. So the Cadence of Words is many times of more force than the words themſelves. In ſhort, we cannot doubt of the efficacy of the Tone. A bold Tone begets an Impreſſion of Fear. A ſorrowful Tone diſpoſes to compaſſion. Diſcourſe loſeth much of its force when not ſuſtain'd with advantages of action and voice: It is an Inſtrument that receives its vertue from the hand that manages it. Words upon Paper, is like a dead body upon the ground: In the mouth of the Speaker, they are lively and vigorous. A Cadence ſuitable to the things of which we diſcourſe, keeps it (as it were) alive, by preſerving the Tone with which it ought to be pronounc'd.

III.
The way of joyning our Diſcourſe by Numbers that correſpond to the things ſignified.

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PLato pretends that the Names of things were not given by chance, and that Reaſon has greater ſhare in the eſtabliſhment of Language, than Fancy and Caprice. To juſtifie this Opinion, he demonſtrates by ſeveral Examples that the firſt roots from whence the other words were deriv'd, were made of Letters, whoſe ſound expreſs'd after a manner, the thing ſignified. It would be hard to defend this Opinion of Plato in all the Radixes, but yet without doubt in all Languages there are words whoſe ſounds are ſignificative; and the beauty of their Names conſiſts in their correſpondence with the thing that they ſignifie, either by the agreeableneſs of the Cadence, as in the word Boar: or becauſe it is deriv'd from another [Page] name that ſignifies ſomething which reſembles it.

He who would joyn his Diſcourſe by numbers conformable to his ſenſe; needs no more than to conſult his Ears, and learn from them what is the proper ſound of every Letter, Vowel, Conſonant, Syllable, and with what thing that ſound can moſt properly agree. Some Authors have been very induſtrious in obſerving theſe practices: For example, 'tis obſerv'd the Conſonant F expreſſes the Wind, ‘Cum flamma furentibus Austris.’

The Conſonant S expreſſes a Currant of Water or Blood, ‘—Et plenos Sanguine Rivot.’

In like manner it expreſſes a Tempeſt, ‘Luctantes Ventos, tempeſtateſ (que) ſonoras.’

The Letter L agrees with ſoft ſoft things,

Mollia luteola pingit vaccinia caltha:

—Est mollisflamma Medullas.

Virgil uſes ſeveral M's very happily to expreſs an obſtreperous confus'd noiſe.

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—Magno cum murmere Montis

Circum Clauſtra fremunt.

Among the Vowels, ſome have a clear and ſtrong ſound; others are weak and obſcure: and we may compoſe our Diſcourſe as we pleaſe of ſuch as are proper for our deſign, when we have a mind our Cadence ſhould be weak or ſtrong, clear or obſcure.

Particular regard muſt be had to the meaſures of time. Among thoſe Meaſures the Spondaeus marches gravely; The Dactylus rowls off ſomething faſter; the Jambus goes faſter than that; and the Trochaeus ſeems to run, and takes its name from a Greek word of that ſignification. The Anapoeſtus, in oppoſition to the Dactylus rowling on pretty faſt in the beginning, at the latter end, ſeems to knock or daſh againſt ſomething that repells it; from whence that alſo has its name, and is as much as Repercuſſion. The effects of theſe meaſures are all different. He who would accommodat the Cadence of his words to [Page] the things of which he treats, ought to ſelect thoſe feet which are moſt conformable to them. Virgil makes uſe of Dactyles to expreſs the ſwiftneſs of an action,

—Illi equore aperto

Ante notos Zephirum (que) volant: gemit ultima pulſu

Thraca pedum.—

Ferte cite ferrum, date tela, ſcandite Muros.

On the contrary he waves them, and makes uſe of Sponde's when Gravity agrees better with his expreſſion.

—Magnum Jovis incrementum.

Tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem.

Illi inter ſe magna vi brachia tollunt.

Cecero reports that Pythagoras finding a company of young Bully's forcing violently into a civil Houſe, made them quit their ruinous deſign by commanding the young Wench that was ſinging to put Sponde's into her Song. Pythagoras, concitatos ad vim [Page]pudicae domui inferendam, juvenes, juſſa mutare in ſpondeum modos tibicina, compeſcuit. The Spondeus and the Dactylus are the two largeſt feet, therefore Hexameters of all Verſe are the moſt Majeſtick, and the Sponde at the end makes us pronounce it ſtrong, by ſuſtaining our Voice. The Anapaestus which is at the end of the Pentameter, cauſes the Voice to fall; and therefore Pentameters are uſed to expreſs complaints and ſuch-like, where the Voice is falling perpetually, and its courſe often interrupted. The Pentametre and Hexametre are joyn'd, that the weakneſs of the one may be ſupported by the ſtrength of the other. The Jambus is a foot ſo fleet, that the Cadence of a Verſe compos'd of them, is often unperceivable: It paſſes with ſuch ſwiftneſs that that kind of Verſe is ſcarce diſtinguiſhable from proſe: For which reaſon the Jambus is uſed commonly in Plays, and pieces for the Stage, where it is requiſite the ſtyle be natural, and little differing from Proſe.

[Page] 'Tis an eaſy matter to render the Cadence of a Diſcourſe ſmooth or ruff: To make it ſmooth we muſt avoid the concourſe of Vowels, which cauſes chaſmes and void places in our Diſcourſe, and hinders its equality and union. The Concourſe of Vowels, and the Concourſe of Conſonants (particularly of thoſe which are ſharp, and thoſe which do not accord) do make a Diſcourſe rough and uneven. A rough Diſcourſe agrees witn things that are ruff and unpleaſant, Rebus atrocibus conveniunt verba auditu aſpera. To deſcribe great things, we muſt make uſe of bigg words, words that make a noiſe, and fill the mouth. The Cadence of a mean Diſcourſe ought to be neglected, and languiſhing; for this cauſe it is requiſite that all the terms of which it makes uſe, ſhould have a feeble weak Sound.

The longer the Period's are, the ſtronger is the action of the Voice: when it concerns us to ſpeak ſorrowfully, our expreſſions ought to be ſhort and abrupt. If the action be vehement; if we be to add weight to [Page] our words (as thoſe who would make themſelves formidable, do commonly make a great noiſe) we muſt make uſe of long periods, which cannot be pronounc'd but with a tone more than ordinarily ſtrong.

But no more of this; it would be loſs of time to give particular Rules for each number. It is not to be acquir'd but by long habit, and ſtrong application, which animates and imboldens us in our Compoſitions; and it is naturally that we make choice of rough or ſmooth terms according to the things we would expreſs. I would not have an Author perplex himſelf to find out a ſignificative Cadence, as he would do to find out a leak in a Ship. I confeſs freely, 'tis by accident when he ſucceeds; 'Tis ſometimes impoſſible, and we ought not to ingage raſhly in a thing where the ſucceſs is ſubject to many accidents.

In appearance the greateſt part of Poets were ignorant of this accord betwixt numbers and things. They aimed at nothing in their Verſe but a certain ſoftneſs that flagg'd and grew [Page] languid by degrees. With them the joyful and the afflicted; the Maſter and the Man, ſpake in the ſame tone: A Clown ſpake as quaintly as a Courtier, and yet thoſe Poets have their admirers, who think they favour Virgil exceedingly, when they repeat any of the rough and uneven Verſes wherewith he ſometimes expreſs'd mean things, and ſay he did it on purpoſe to make the ſoftneſs and gentleneſs of the other more ſenſible. They do not reliſh the excellent Cadence of this Verſe, where he deſcribes the faint weak ſtroke that old Priamus gave to Neoptolomeus, which is weak and feeble as it ought to be:

Sic fatus Senior, telum (que) imbelle ſi [...]ne ictu

Conjecit.

I am aſham'd to uſe the authority of two ſuch great Maſters, to evince a truth that has ſo little need of proof: Yet Cicero and Quintilian both do highly commend thoſe who have that felicity of accommodating their numbers and their ſenſe. Hiſtorians, Poets, [Page] and Orators, have ſtudiouſly endeavoured for this Beauty. Vlpian in his Commentaries upon the Orations of Demoſthenes, obſerves that as oft as that Prince of the Greek Orators ſpoke of King Philip's progreſs, he ſtops the pronuntiation of his Diſcourſe, and interſperſes ſeveral little particles to ſignify how ſlowly King Philip advanc'd in his Conqueſts. Quoties tardos Philippi progreſſus voluit ostendere, tardam, multis interjectis particulis, orationem faciebat.

As for Virgil, it is in that he may be ſayd to be unimitable, and that no Poet has hitherto come near him. We We need not produce our Examples, for any one may find them in his Book: and yet to better our Obſervation of the excellence of that Poet, I ſhall repreſent ſome few of the beſt places that offer themſelves to my Memory. In the firſt of his Aenead's, where he brings in Neptune ſpeaking, he gives him words with a Cadence exalted, and ſuiting well with the Majeſty of the Speaker.

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Tantane vos tenuit generis fiducia vestri?

Jam Caelum, terram (que) meo ſine Numine venti

Miſcere, & tantas audetis tollere Moles.

Mark the pomp of theſe three following Verſes wherewith he flatters the Emperor.

Naſcetur pulchra Trojanus Origine Caeſar,

Imperium Oceano, famam qui terminet aſtris.

No man can read his deſcription of Polyphemus, that horrible and deformed Gyant, without impreſſions of horror and fear.

Monſtrum, horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.

As alſo this following:

Tela inter media, at (que) horrentes Marte Latinos.

The Cadence of this Verſe—Procumbit humi bos, imitates the fall of that great Beaſt. This Verſe, Quadrupedante putrem ſonitu quatit ungula campum, expreſſes the ardour and fury of a high-metled Horſe. Could [Page] Sadneſs be better expreſs'd than by this ſo often interrupted Cadence.

O Pater, O hominum, divum (que) aeternae Poteſtas,

O lux Dardaniae, O ſpes fidiſſima Teucrum,

The following Verſes are full of the ſorrow of a perſon in affliction for the loſs of his Friend,—Te amice requivi Conſpicere, &c.

Implerunt rupes, flerunt Rhodopeiae arces.

Dionyſius Halicarnaſſaeus, a Writer of the Roman Antiquities, and ſeveral Treatiſes of Rhetorick, ſhows that Homer frequently uſed that Connexion, and choſe his numbers proper to his matter; he inſtances in ſeveral Verſes, and reflects upon them with great judgment and elegance. He tells us, that in his Verſe Homer had a way of making his Vowels claſh and interfer, to ſtop the courſe of our pronunciation. To expreſs the length of the time that Siſyphus imploy'd in his labour, he uſes Syllables that have their Stops and Notches, to ſignify thereby the reſiſtance of every Stone, [Page] by reaſon of their own natural weights, and their daſhing againſt every other ſtone: And in ſhort, that we might not think it meer chance that his numbers anſwer'd to his matter, he ſhows how the Cadence is quite different from the next Verſe, where he deſcribes the fall of Siſyphus his Stone, how it tumbles from the top to the bottom, after it had been carryed up with ſo much difficulty and pain. The Cadence is very ſwift; and the words ſeem to rowl and tumble with the ſame precipitation as the Stone.

It is not to be imagin'd that writing of all ſorts of things, it is neceſſary the ſounds of our words ſhould be ſo expreſſive. This exactneſs is not neceſſary every where, but only where our judgment is moſt obvious, and where our deſign to work upon our Auditors is greateſt. Beſides, this Cadence muſt be natural; we muſt not ſubvert the Order of Nature, tranſpoſe words, retrench a good expreſſion, inſert an ill; to give a juſt Cadence to our Diſcourſe. How precious [Page] ſoever a Diſcourſe may be, whoſe numbers expreſs the things as well as the words; yet great care is to be taken that we do not prefer that beauty to the more ſolid juſtneſs of Argument, and greatneſs of thought. Our mind cannot attend two different things at one time, and therefore it happens often that whilſt we are buſy in contenting our Senſes, we diſpleaſe our Reaſon. Senſe is the Nobleſt part of Diſcourſe, indeed it's very ſoul; and that Soul is it which deſerves our principal care.

THE FOURTH PART OF THE Art of Speaking.

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CHAP. I.

I.
We muſt make choice of a Style ſuitable to the Matter of which we treat. What Style is.

WE have obſerved that Words do not give the ſame Idea of things that they ſignifie, and that to make us underſtand the form of our Thoughts, we ought to uſe among [Page] our Terms ſuch as repreſent their true lineaments, and their natural colours, that is to ſay, ſuch as awaken in the minds of other people, the ſame Ideas, and the ſame Sentiments as we have in ours. In this Fourth part we ſhall make it appear, that according to the difference of the matter, we muſt make uſe of a peculiar manner of Writing; and that as every thing requires convenient words, ſo an entire ſubject requires a ſtyle that may be proportionable to it. The Rules we have given for Elocution, regard no farther than (if we may ſo ſay) the members of Diſcourſe; that of which we are now ſpeaking relates to the whole body.

Style, in its primitive ſignification, is taken for a kind of Bodkin wherewith the Antients writ upon Bark, and little Tables covered with Wax: To ſay who is the Author of ſuch a Writing, we ſay 'tis ſuch a mans hand, whereas the Antients ſaid it was ſuch a mans Style. In proceſs of time, the word Style came to be applyed only to the manner of expreſſing: When [Page] we ſay ſuch a diſcourſe is Cicero's Style, we intend Cicero uſed to expreſs himſelf in that manner. Before I determine with what ſtyle we are to treat of ſeveral things that are the ſubjects of common Diſcourſe, what ought to be the Style of an Orator, an Hiſtorian, or Poet, who would delight, or inſtruct; I thought it not impertinent to enquire into the different Expreſſions wherewith ſeveral Authors expreſs themſelves in the ſame Language, and who writing on the ſame Subjects endeavour the ſame Stile. Some are diffuſe, and though they pretend to be ſuccinct, half their words may be retrenched without prejudice to the ſenſe: Others are dry, flat, barren, and what Effort ſoever they may make to beautify and adorn things, they leave them half-naked: The Style of ſome is ſtrong; in others it is weak and languiſhing; in ſome it is rugged, in others it is ſmooth: In a word, as faces are different, ſo are the ways of Writing, and it is the cauſe of this Difference of which we are going to enquire.

II.
The Qualities of the Style depend upon the Qualities of the Imagination, Memory, and Judgment of the Writer.

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WHen the outward Object ſtrikes upon our Senſe, the motion it makes is communicated by the Nerves to the very Centre of the Brain, whoſe ſubſtance being ſoft, receives thereby certain prints and impreſſions: The Alliance or Connexion betwixt the Mind and the Body, is the cauſe that the Ideas of Corporal things are annex'd to theſe Prints; ſo that when the Prints of an Object, (for Example of the Sun) are imprinted in the brain, the Idea of the Sun preſents it ſelf to the mind; and as oft as the Idea of the Sun is preſented to the Mind, the Impreſſions caus'd by the preſence of the Sun, begin to open and dilate. We may call thoſe Prints the Images of the Objects. The power the Soul has to form upon the Brain the Images [Page] of things that have been perceiv'd, is called Imagination, which word ſignifies both that power of the Soul, and the Images that it forms.

The Qualities of a good Imagination are very neceſſary to Well-ſpeaking; for Diſcourſe is nothing but a Copy of thoſe things of which we are to ſpeak, form'd before by the Soul. If the Original be confuſed, the Copy muſt be ſo alſo; if the Original be not, the Copy cannot be like. The form, the clearneſs, the good Order of our Idea's, depend upon the clearneſs and diſtinction of the Impreſſions which the Objects make upon our Brain; ſo that it cannot be doubted but the Quality of the Style muſt depend upon the quality of the Imagination. The ſubſtance of the Brain has not the ſame qualities in all heads, and therefore we are not to wonder if the ways of Speaking be different in each Author.

Words read or heard leave their Impreſſions in the Brain, as well as other Objects, ſo as we commonly think of Words and Things at the ſame time; [Page] the Impreſſions of Words and Things which have been opened in Company at ſeveral times, are linked together in ſuch ſort that the Things repreſent themſelves to the mind with their Names: when this falls out, we ſay the Memory is happy, and its Felicity conſiſts only in the eaſineſs wherewith the prints of words, and the things to which they are linked, do open themſelves at the ſame time; that is to ſay, when the name of the thing follows the thought we have of it. When the Memory is unfaithful in repreſenting the proper Terms of the things committed to it, we cannot ſpeak juſtly; we are forced either to ſay nothing, or make uſe of the firſt words that occur, though perhaps they are not proper to expreſs what we would ſay. Happy and juſt Expreſſion is the effect of good Memory.

In ſhort, it is manifeſt the Qualities of the Mind are the cauſe of the Difference obſerved among all Authors. Diſcourſe is the Image of the Mind; we ſhew our Humours and Inclinations [Page] in our Words before we think of it. The Minds then being different, what wonder if the Style of every Author has a character that diſtinguiſhes it from all others, though all uſe the ſame Terms and Expreſſions in the ſame Language.

III.
The advantage of a Good Imagination.

A Good Imagination contributes particularly to the clearneſs and facility of Diſcourſe 'Tis eaſy to ſpeak of things that we ſee, their preſence guides and regulates our Diſcourſe; but Imagination ſupplies us with things. A Man whoſe Imagination is eaſy, repreſents to himſelf whatever he is to ſay: he ſees clearly before the eyes of his mind; ſo that expreſſing by his words, the things as preſent to him, his Diſcourſe is clear, and the things do range and take their places of themſelves in his Diſcourſe. In the Imagination there are two things; the firſt is Material, the ſecond Spiritual; the Material is [Page] the prints cauſed by the impreſſions the Objects make upon the ſenſe. The Spiritual is the Perception or Knowledg the Soul has of theſe prints, and the power we have to renew or open them when once they are made. We ſhall enquire here only into the material part. I cannot explain exactly theſe prints without ingaging my ſelf in Philoſophical Diſquiſitions remote from my Subject: I ſhall only ſay theſe prints are made by the Animal Spirits, which being the pureſt and moſt ſubtile part of the Blood, fly up like a Vapour from the Heart to the Brain: Theſe Spirits are uncertain in their courſe. When a Nerve is ſtretched, they follow its motion, and by their Current they draw ſeveral Figures in the Brain, according as the Nerves are differently ſtretched or contracted; but which way ſoever theſe Figures are made, it is plain, the clearneſs of the Imagination depends upon the temperament of the ſubſtance of the Brain, and the quality of the Animal Spirits.

IV.
The Qualities of the Subſtance of the Brain, and the Animal Spirits, are neceſſary to make a good Imagination.

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FIgures drawn upon the Surface of the Water leave no prints, becauſe they are immediatly filled up. Figures ingrav'd upon Marble are ſeldom perfect, becauſe the hardneſs of the Matter gives too much reſiſtance to the Chiſſel. This gives us to underſtand that the ſubſtance of the Brain ought to have certain Qualities, without which it cannot receive exactly the Images of ſuch things as the Soul imagines. If the Brain be too moiſt, and the little Threads and Fibers which compoſe it too feeble and lax, they cannot retain the Foldings and Impreſſions given them by the Animal Spirits, and by conſequence the things drawn there are confuſed, and like thoſe we endeavour to draw upon [Page] Mud: If the Brain be too dry, and the Fibers too hard, 'tis impoſſible all the ſtrokes of the Objects ſhould leave their Impreſſions, which makes every thing ſeem dry and meagre to men of that Temper. I ſpeak not of the other Qualities of the Brain, of its heat or its coldneſs: when it is hot, the Spirits move with more eaſe; when it is cold, the Spirits are ſlow and retarded in their courſe, the Imagination is dull, and nothing to be imagined but with trouble.

The Animal Spirits ought to have three qualities; they ought to be plentiful, hot, and equal in their motion: A brain whoſe Animal Spirits are exhauſted, is empty of Images. Plenty of Spirits makes the Imagination fruitful: The prints drawn by the Spirits in their courſe being large, whilſt the ſource that produces them is full, they repreſent all things eaſily, and under multitude of Figures which ſupply us amply with matter for diſcourſe; thoſe who have not this Fertility ſupply'd to them by abundance of Spirits, are commonly dry. Things imprinting [Page] themſelves but weakly upon their Imagination, they appear little and meagre, and dry; ſo their Diſcourſe expreſſing nothing but what paſſes in their Imagination, is dry and meagre and jejune. The firſt are great Praters; they ſpeak nothing but Hyperboles, every thing appears great to them: The others are low, mean, and inſipid in their diſcourſe. The Imagination of the firſt makes every thing greater; the Imagination of the laſt leſſens them as much.

When there is heat enough, and the Animal Spirits are warm, quick, and in great quantity, the Tongue is not ſufficiently nimble to expreſs all that is repreſented in the Imagination; for beſides that abundance (which is the firſt quality requiſite to the Spirits) forming the Images of things in their full dimenſions; the ſecond Quality, (which is heat) rendring the Animal Spirits lively and quick, the Imagination is full in an inſtant of differing Images. Thoſe who poſſeſs theſe two Qualities, do immediatly without thinking find more matter upon any [Page] ſubject propoſed than others after long Meditation. A cold Spirit cannot move the Imagination without helps. Experience tells us, that want of Heat is a great Obſtruction to Eloquence: In violent paſſion where the Animal Spirits are extraordinarily ſtirred, the dryeſt Tempered Men deliver themſelves with eaſe, the moſt barren want no words. And this Diverſity of Images in the Imagination, cauſes a pleaſant variety of Figures and Motions that follow thoſe of the Imagination.

That the Imagination be clear and unconfus'd, the motion of the Animal Spirits ought to be equal. When their courſe is irregular, ſometimes ſlow, and ſometimes ſwift, the Images that they imprint are without proportion; as in ſick People, where the motion of the whole Maſs of Blood is irregular. Thoſe who are Gay and of a Sanguine Complexion, expreſs themſelves gracefully and readily. In thoſe Tempers the Animal Spirits move quick and equal, and their Imagination being clear, their Diſcourſe being but a Copy [Page] of the Images drawn in it, muſt neceſſarily be clear and diſtinct.

V.
The Advantages of a good Memory.

THe goodneſs of the Memory depends upon Nature and Exerciſe, ſeeing it conſiſts only in the eaſineſs wherewith the prints of received Objects are renewed; by Conſequence the Memory cannot be good, if the ſubſtance of the Brain be not proper to receive thoſe draughts, or prints of things, and retain them; and when thoſe prints (which cannot always be expanded and open) do not open themſelves with eaſe. Exerciſe adds much to the Memory; Things fold eaſily that way that they are often folded. The Fibers of the Brain do harden and grow ſtiff, if that ſtifneſs be not prevented by frequent folding them, that is to ſay, by often repeating what we have learned already, and continual endeavours to ſuck in [Page] more. We muſt fill our Memories with proper terms, and contrive that the Images of things and their names be of ſo ſtrict coherence, that the images and expreſſions may preſent themſelves together. An excellent Perſon has reſembled the Memory to a Printing-Preſs; a Printer who has none but Gothick Characters, prints nothing but in Gothick Characters, let the Treatiſe be never ſo good. The ſame may be ſaid of thoſe whoſe Memories are ful of nothing but improper words; having nothing in their minds but Gothick Molds, and their thoughts clothing themſelves with Expreſſions from thence, no wonder if they always aſſume a Gothick aire and faſhion.

VI.
Qualities of the Mind neceſſary to make a Man Eloquent.

WHat we have hitherto ſayd, relates only to the Corporal Organs: The qualities of the Mind [Page] are more conſiderable and important. Reaſon muſt regulate the advantages of Nature, which are rather Defects than advantages when we underſtand not how to uſe them. He that has a fertile Imagination, but knows not how to cull and pick his Expreſſiſions, looſes himſelf, and runs out into long and tedious Diſcourſes. Among the multitude of things that he delivers, half of them are improper; and thoſe which are good, are ſtifled and incommoded by theſe that are impertinent. If his Imagination be hot as well as fertile, and he follows the motion of his heat, he falls into thouſands of other faults; his Diſcourſe is nothing but a continuation of Figures; he ſeldom ſpeaks without paſſion, but for the moſt part without reaſon. Being haſty and hot, the leaſt thing excites him, and ſets him on fire; without reſpect to Civility, without conſidering the merits of the Cauſe, he fly's out into a fury, and ſuffers himſelf to be hurried away by the impetus of his Imagination, whoſe irregularity and extravagance is diſcovered in his words.

[Page] To enjoy the Soveraign Perfection of Eloquence, the mind muſt be adorned with theſe three Qualities: Firſt, a capacity to diſcover abundantly all that may be ſaid upon any propoſed ſubject. A narrow Apprehenſion is incapable of giving things their juſt latitude and extent.

The ſecond quality conſiſts in a certain ſagacious Vivacity, that ſtrikes immediately into things, rummages them to the bottom, and cleanſes every corner: thoſe whoſe minds are heavy and dull, do not penetrate into the Folds or Intricacies of an Affair, and therefore can only skum off what they find at the top.

The Third quality is exactneſs of Judgment, and that regulates both the other qualities. A good Judgment chooſes and picks, it ſtops not at every thing preſented by the Imagination, but diſcerns and diſcriminates betwixt what is fit to be ſaid, and what is fit to be paſs'd: it dilates not upon things according to the bigneſs of their Images, but amplifies diſcourſe, or contracts it, as the thing and [Page] reaſon require; it relys not upon firſt Idea's, but judges whether things are as great as they appear, and ſelects convenient expreſſions according to the light of Reaſon rather than the report of Imagination, which like magnifying Glaſſes do many times repreſent things greater than they are: It ſtops the Idea's where they are too light; it excites and chafes them when they are cold: in a word, it uſes and improves many advantages that Nature has given it; it prevents Faults, and endeavours to correct them.

The good Qualities of the Mind are not always concomitant with the qualities of a good Imagination, and happy Memory; which cauſes a great difference betwixt Speaking and Writing well. Oftentimes thoſe who write well upon premeditation ſpeak ill Ex tempore: To write well there is no need of a prompt, hot, and fertil Imagination. Unleſs our Wit be very bad indeed, upon ſerious Meditation we ſhall find what we ought, and what we might ſay upon any ſubject propoſed; thoſe who ſpeak eaſily and [Page] without premeditation, receive that advantage from a certain fertility and fire in their Imagination, which fire is extinguiſhed by repoſe and cold contemplation in a Study.

The Qualities of the Mind are preferable to the qualities of the Body; the Eloquence of thoſe endued with theſe laſt Qualities is like a flaſh of Gun-powder, gone in a moment; this Eloquence makes a great noiſe, and flaſhes for a time, but 'tis quickly ſpent and forgot. A Treatiſe compos'd with Judgment retains its Beauty, and the oftner it is read, the more it is admir'd. This is obſerv'd by Tacitus in the Fourth Book of his Annales, where he ſpeaks of one Halerius a Famous Orator whilſt he lived, but when dead, his Writings were not ſo much admired; his Talent lay in ſpeaking well Ex tempore, not in Writing, having more flame in his Imagination than judgment in his Mind. A work that is ſolid and elaborate (ſays Tacitus with reflection upon the Eloquence of Halerius) lives, and is eſteemed after the death of the Author; [Page] whereas the ſoftneſs and flaſhineſs of Halerius his Eloquence expipired with him. Quintus Halerius, Eloquentiae quoad vixit celebratae, monimenta ingenii ejus haud perinde retinentur. Scilicet impetu magis quam cura vigebat: utque meditatio aliorum & labor, in poſterum valeſcit, ſic Halerii canorum illud, & profluens, cum ipſo ſimul extinctum eſt.

VII.
Diverſity of Inclinations alter the Styles: Every Climate, every Age, hath its Style.

DIſcourſe is the Character of the Mind; our Humour deſcribes it ſelf in our words, and every man incogitantly follows the ſtyle to which his diſpoſition naturally carries him▪ We know not only the Humor of a man by his Style, but alſo his Country: Every Clymat hath its ſtyle. The Aſiaticks whoſe Imaginations are warm and full of Images, ſpeak [Page] nothing but by Allegories, Similitudes, and Metaphors; by which means their Style is obſcure to thoſe whoſe Imaginations are not ſo lively and prompt. The Northern people have not that heat, and therefore ſpeak more plain and intelligibly.

Antient Rhetoricians diſtinguiſh into three Forms the different Styles recommended to the people by their different Inclinations. The firſt form is the Aſiatick, high, pompous, and magnificent. The people of Aſia have been always ambitious, their Diſcourſe expreſſes their Humor; they are lovers of Luxury, and their words are accompanied with ſeveral vain Ornaments, that a ſevere Humour cannot approve. The ſecond form of Style is the Attick: the Athenians were more regular in their Lives, and therefore were more exact and modeſt in their Diſcourſe. The Third is the Rhodian Stile; the Rhodians had a touch of the Ambition and Luxury of the Aſiaticks, and the modeſty of the Athenians; their ſtyle characterizes their Humour, and keeps a medium [Page] betwixt the liberty of the Aſiatick, and the reſervedneſs and retention of the Attick.

Diverſity of Styles proceeds again from another Cauſe, that is to ſay, from the precogitancy or pre-occupation wherewith we ſpeak or write; when we have taken a fancy to any way of Writing, we make it our model, and endeavour to imitate it. A Style a-la-mode is followed by the whole world; but as we change our Modes, and thoſe who invented them, finding them common, contrive new, to diſtinguiſh themſelves from the people, there is a perpetual change, and every Age has its peculiar Mode. A good Critique gueſſes the time when an Author writ, by obſerving his way: The Style of each Age gives us to underſtand the Inclinations of thoſe who lived in that Age. Commonly the Style is dry, rugged, without Ornament in thoſe Ages where the people were ſerious and regular. Luxury was introduced during the Licentiouſneſs of Governments, in Languages as well as Habits, in Books as well as Buildings.

CHAP. II.

[Page]

I.
The Matter of which we treat, ought to determine us in the choice of our S [...]yle.

THe Matter is to direct in the election of our Style. Noble Expreſſions that render a Style Magnificent; great words that fill up the mouth, repreſent things great, and argue ſtrength of judgment in the perſon who ſpeaks in ſo ſublime a way: But if the matter it ſelf be unworthy, if it be great only in the Imagination of the Author, his Magnificence turns to his prejudice, and ſhows the weakneſs of his judgment, in putting a value upon that is only worthy of Contempt. Figures, and Tropes, unknown to the natural order of Diſcourſe, diſcover likewiſe the motion of the heart; but that theſe Figures may be juſt, the [Page] paſſion, of which they are the character, ought to be reaſonable. There is nothing comes nearer Folly, than to be tranſported without Cauſe; to put ones ſelf into a heat for a thing that ought to be argued coolly; each Motion has its Figures: Figures may enrich and embelliſh a Style, but unleſs the Motion that cauſes them be laudable, the Figures cannot be worthy of Commendation.

I ſay then, 'tis the Matter that regulates the Style: When things are great, and cannot be conſidered without great Emotion, it is neceſſary that the Style which deſcribes them be ſprightly, full of motion, and inriched with Figures, and Tropes, and Metaphors. If in the ſubject of which we treat there be nothing extraordinary: if we can conſider it without paſſion; the Style is to be plain. The Art of Speaking having no peculiar matter, every thing ſubject to our thoughts being matter for Diſcourſe, there are infinite diverſity of Styles, as the ſorts of things of which we may ſpeak are infinite: Yet the Maſters of that Art [Page] have reduced the peculiar matter for Writing under three kinds; Sublime, Mean, or Indifferent. There are three Kinds of Styles anſwerable to theſe three Kinds of Matters; the Lofty, the Plain, and the Moderate. Sometimes theſe Styles are called Characters, becauſe they denote the quality of the matter that is the ſubject of the diſcourſe. I ſhall in this Chapter huddle together the Rules to be obſerved in each of theſe three Characters. When a Work is undertaken, we always propoſe a general Idea; for example, when an Orator makes a Panegyrick upon ſome Prince, the deſign is to magnifie and illuſtrate the actions of that Hero, to advance him to ſuch an Elevation of Glory, that he may be looked upon as the moſt accompliſhed and moſt venerable perſon of his Sex. An Advocate pleading the cauſe of a Pauper, will be contented if he perſwades his Auditory that the perſon whoſe defence he has undertaken is a good man, an innocent man, and one that behaves himſelf in his ſphear like a very good Citizen. [Page] That which I ſhall ſay of theſe three Characters, relates to our prudence in carrying on our Work, ſo as we never ſuffer the general Idea we have propoſed to our ſelves to be out of ſight.

II.
Rules for the Lofty Style.

APelles being to draw the Picture of his Friend Antigonus, who had loſt his left eye in the Wars, drew him in Porfile with the half-face that had no deformity. We muſt imitate this Artifice: Let the ſubject of which we deſign to give a lofty Idea, be never ſo Noble, its Nobleneſs will never be ſeen, unleſs we have the skill to preſent it with the beſt of its faces: the beſt of things have their imperfections; and yet the leaſt new blemiſh diſcovered in what we valued before, abates our eſteem, and perhaps extinguiſhes it quite. After we have ſpoke a thouſand fine things, if among them [Page] all we ſhuffle in but one Expreſſion that is mean or impertinent, ſome people (and thoſe Wits) are ſo ill-natured as to regard nothing but that impertinence, and to forget the reſt. We muſt likewiſe be careful not to ſay any thing in one place that may contradict or interfere with what we have ſayd in another. We have an Example of this Fault in Heſiod, who in his Poem called the Buckler, ſpeaking of Proſerpine, ſays that ſhe had a filthy humour running at her Noſe: Longinus obſerves well, that Heſiod's deſign being to make her terrible, this Expreſſion did not ſuit, but made her rather odious and contemptible.

We are likewiſe to imitate the addreſs of another Painter no leſs famous than Apelles, and that is Zeuxis, who being to repreſent Helen as fair in colours as the Greek Poets had done in their Verſe, he took the natural touches of all the Beauties of the City, where he drew it, uniting in her Picture all the Graces that Nature had diſtributed in a great number of handſome Women. When a Poet is [Page] Maſter of his Subject, and can inlarge or retrench as he pleaſes; if he deſigns a deſcription (as for example of a Tempeſt) he is ſeriouſly to conſider what happens in a Tempeſt, and to examine all the Circumſtances that he may ſelect and make uſe of what he thinks moſt extraordinary and ſurprizing.

Comme l' on voit les flots ſoulevez par l' Orage,

Fondre ſur un vaiſſeau qui s' oppoſe a leur rage,

Le vent avec fureur dans les voiles fremit,

Le mer blanchit d' ecume, & l' air auloin gemit:

Le matelot trouble, que ſon art abandonne,

Croit voir dans chaque flot, la mort qui l' environne.

As when by Storm inrag'd, the Sea does beat,

And daſh 'gainſt th' Veſſel that reſiſts its heat,

[Page] The Wind begets a trembling in the Sails,

The Sea grows white with foam, the Ayr rails;

The Sea-man troubled, his Art loſt, each Wave

That tumbles next, he looks will be his Grave.

Our Expreſſions ought to be Noble, and able to give that lofty Idea which we deſign as the end of what we ſay. Though the matter be not equal in all its parts, yet we are to obſerve a certain Uniformity in our Style. In a Palace there are appartments for Inferior Officers, as well as thoſe who are near the King; there are rooms of State, and there are Stables: the Stables are not built with the Magnificence of the rooms of State, and yet there is a ſuitableneſs and proportion betwixt them, and every part ſhows its relation to the whole. In a lofty Style, though the Expreſſions ought to correſpond with the matter, yet we muſt ſpeak of indifferent things with an Ayre above their condition, becauſe [Page] our deſign being to give a high Idea of the thing, 'tis fit all that depend upon it ſhould wear its Livery, and do it honour. An ambitious vain Writer, to ſhow the magnificence of his Style in all that he writes, foiſts in great and prodigious things, not conſidering whether the invention of his Prodigies be conſiſtent with reaſon: The Greeks call this vanity, [...]. Florus in his Abridgment of the Roman Hiſtory, furniſhes us with a conſiderable example of this Teratologie. His buſineſs was to have told us, as Sextus Rufus has done, That the Roman Empire was extended as far as the Sea, by the Conqueſt which Decimus Brutus made of Spaine. Hiſpanias per decimum Brutum obtinuimus, & uſque ad Gades & Oceanum pervenimus. Florus goes higher, and tells us, Decimus Brutus aliquanto latius Gallaecos, atque omnes Gallaeciae populos, formidatum (que) militibus flumen oblivionis, peregratoque victor Oceani littore, non prius ſigna convertit, quam cadentem in Maria ſolem, obrutumque aquis ignem, non[Page]ſine quodam Sacrilegii metu & horrore deprehendit, ſtuffing up his Narration with Prodigies. He fancies that the Romans having carryed their Conqueſts to the fartheſt parts of Spaine, trembled at the ſight of the Sea; as if they had thought themſelves criminal for beholding with preſumptuous eyes the Sun when it was ſetting, and as it were quenching its flames in the waters of the Ocean.

This Fault is called Inflation, becauſe the manner of ſpeaking things in ſo incongruous and extravagant a way, is like the falſe corpulency of a dropical Man, who appears fat and in good-liking, when he is only puffed up with Water and Wind. This ſublime Character is hard to attain; 'tis not every one can raiſe himſelf above the common pitch, at leaſt continue his flight: It is eaſy to fly out into great expreſſions, but then if thoſe great Expreſſions be not ſuſtained by greatneſs of matter, and replete with ſolid and ſerious things, they are but like Stilts that ſhow the ſmalneſs [Page] and defect of the Party at the ſame time they exalt him.

By the Engine of a Phraſe we may hoiſt up a trifle, and place it very high, but it quickly relapſes, and by its elevation is expoſed to their eyes, who perhaps would never have conſidered it, had it remained in its primitive obſcurity. This vanity of making every thing we mention ſeem great, of cloathing our diſcourſe in Magnificent Language, makes it ſuſpicious to perſons of judgment, that the Author has a mind to conceal the meanneſs of his thoughts under the vain pretenſion of Grandeur. And Quintilian tells us, there are others who by the creeping humility of their Style affect to he thought Copious and Lofty.

Little People to ſhew themſelves with advantage, delight to ſtand on tip-toe; thoſe who write moſt weakly, uſe moſt Rhodomontades. This inflation of Style, this affectation of Words that make a noiſe, are rather Arguments of Weakneſs than force. Quo quiſque ingenio minus valet, hoc [Page] ſe magis attollere & dilatare conatur; & ſtatura breves in digitos eriguntur, & plura infirmi minantur; nam & tumidos, & corruptos, & tinnulos, & quocunque alio Cacozeliae genere peccantes, certum habeo, non virium ſed infirmitatis vitio laborare.

III.
Of a plain ſimple Style.

THe Simple and Plain Character has its difficulties: 'tis true the choice of things is not ſo difficult, becauſe they ought to be common and ordinary: But the plain character is difficult, becauſe the greatneſs of things dazles and conceals the faults of a Writer. When we ſpeak of things rare and extraordinary, we make uſe of Metaphors, cuſtom not affording us expreſſions of ſufficient ſtrength. Diſcourſe may be inriched with figures; becauſe we ſeldom hear of great things without ſentiments of admiration, love, [Page] hatred, fear, or hope. On the contrary, when common and ordinary things are to be mention'd, we are conſtrained to imploy proper and ordinary Terms. We have not liberty to uſe Figures in our Diſcourſe, which cannot be forborn without difficulty: For, in a word, thoſe who are Writers cannot be ignorant that the liberty of uſing Figures ſaves them the labour of ſtudying for proper words, which are not always at hand, and that it is eaſier to ſpeak by Figures than to ſpeak Naturally▪

When I called this Character ſimple, I intended not to ſignify by that Epithete, meaneſs of expreſſion, that is never good, and always to be avoided. The matter of this Style has no elevation; and yet it ought not to be vile and contemptible. It requires not the pomps and ornaments of Eloquence, nor to be dreſs'd up in magnificent Habits: But yet it abhors an abject way of Expreſſion, and requires that its habits be cleanly and neat.

IV.
Of the Middle Style.

[Page]

I Shall ſay little of this middle Character, becauſe it is ſufficient to know that it conſiſts in a Mediocrity that ought to participate of the grandeur of the ſublime Character, and of the ſimplicity of the plain Character. Virgil has given us examples of all theſe three Characters; his Aenead's are in the ſublime Character, where he ſpeaks of nothing but Combats, Sieges, Wars, Princes, and Hero's: In them all is magnificent, both ſentiments and words. The grandeur of his Expreſſion is ſuitable to the grandeur of the Subject: Every thing in that Poem is extraordinary; he uſes no terms profan'd by the cuſtom of the Populace. When he is obliged to name common things, he does it by ſome Trope, or Circumlocution. For example, when he ſpeaks of Bread, he expreſſes it by Ceres, who among the [Page] Pagans was the Goddeſs of Corn. The Character of his Eclogues is ſimple. They are Shepheards who ſpeak and entertain themſelves with Love, with Dialogues of their Sheep, and their Fields, after a plain ſimple manner ſuitable to the diſcouſes of Shepheards.

His Georgicks are of the middle Character: The matter of which they treat is not ſo ſublime as the matter of his Aenead's, he ſpeaks not there of Wars and Combats, and the eſtabliſhment of the Roman Empire, which are the ſubject of his Aenead's; nor are his Georgicks ſo plain and ſimple as his Eclogues. In his Georgicks he ſearches into the moſt occult and remote Cauſes of Nature. He diſcovers the myſteries of the Roman Religion; he mingles them with Philoſophy, Theology, and Hiſtory, obſerving a Medium betwixt the Majeſty of his Aenead's, and the ſimplicity of his Bucolicks.

CHAP. III.

[Page]

I.
Of Styles proper to certain Matters; and qualities common to all Styles.

WE are now ſpeaking of particular Styles, peculiar to certain matters, as the Styles of Poets, Orators, and Hiſtorians: But it is not amiſs to premiſe certain Obſervations relating to the Qualities that are common to all Styles. Among thoſe who uſe the ſame Style, ſome are ſoft, others more ſtrong: Some are gay, others more ſevere. I ſhall ſhow in what theſe Qualities conſiſt, and how they may be attributed to a Style, when they are convenient to the quality of the ſubject.

The firſt of theſe Qualities is eaſineſs: a Style is ſaid to be eaſy when things are delivered with ſuch clearneſs and perſpicuity, that the mind [Page] is put to no trouble to conceive them. Thus we ſay the declenſion of a Mountain is eaſy, when it is not hard to aſcend. To give this eaſineſs to a Style, we muſt leave nothing to the Reader's determination; we muſt prevent all doubts, and remove every thing that may perplex it. In a word, we muſt deliver things in their neceſſary latitude and extent, that they may be eaſily comprehended; for ſmall things are not ſo viſible to the eye. I have ſaid in the precedent Book how cadence is to be ſweetned, and pronunciation in diſcourſe. The eaſineſs of the number contributes ſtrangely to the eaſineſs of the Style. This eaſineſs may have ſeveral degrees: The Style of an Author that writes with extraordinary eaſe, is ſayd to be tender and delicate. I will not forget in this place that there is nothing contributes more to the ſoftneſs and eaſineſs of a Style, than the careful inſerting in their due places all the Particulars neceſſary to make the conſequence and connexion of the parts of diſcourſe perceptible and plain.

[Page] The ſecond Quality is Strength, and it is directly oppoſite to the firſt; it ſtrikes the mind boldly, and forces attention. To render a Style ſtrong, we muſt uſe ſhort expreſſions that ſignify much, and excite many Idea's. The Greek and Latin Authors are full of theſe ſtrong expreſſions: They are more rare among the French, who chooſe rather to have their Diſcourſe natural, free, and with ſome kind of diffuſion; for which reaſon we are not to wonder that the French in their Tranſlations of Greek and Latine Authors are more copious and verboſe than the Originals, becauſe they have not thoſe ſhort and compact Expreſſions; the Genius of our Language chooſing rather to explain and diſ-intangle thoſe Idea's which the Greek and Latin words leave abſtruſe and involved. St. Paul expreſſing his readineſs to dye, ſays very nobly in Greek [...]. The Latine Tranſlation renders it, Ego enim jam delibor. To turn it into French, it muſt be done thus, Lar pour may, je ſuis comme une victime [Page]qui a deja recu l'aſperſion pour etre ſacrifice. For I am as a victim that has already received aſperſion to be ſacrific'd. All theſe words do but explain the Idea's given by the word [...], when we conſider its force with neceſſary attention.

The Third quality renders a Style pleaſant and florid. This Quality depends in part upon the firſt, and ought to be preceded by it; for the mind is not pleaſed with too ſtrong an intention. Tropes and figures are the flowers of a Style; Tropes give a ſenſible conception of the moſt abſtracted thoughts; they are pleaſant delineations of what we deſire to ſignifie. Figures awaken our attention, they warm and animate the Reader, which is pleaſant: Motion is the principle of Life, and of Pleaſure; coldneſs mortifies every thing. The laſt Quality is ſevere, it retrenches whatever is not abſolutely neceſſary; it allows nothing to pleaſure; it admits of no Ornament nor decoration, and like an old Arepagit, rejects in Diſcourſe every thing that is ſprightly; it baniſhes [Page] all things capable of intenerating the heart.

We are to endeavour that our Style have ſuch qualities as are proper to the ſubject of which we treat. Vitruvius that excellent Architect, who lived under Auguſtus obſerves, that in the ſtructure of Temples they followed that order that expreſſed the character of the Deity to whom the Temple was dedicated. The Dorick, that is the moſt ſolid and plain order, was uſed in the Temple of Mars, Minerva, and Hercules. The Temples of Venus, Flora, Proſerpina, and the Nymphs, were built according to the Corinthian Order, which is ſprucer and delicater, adorned with Garlands and Flowers, and all the Ornaments of Architecture. The Jonick was conſecrated to Diana, Juno, and other Deities, of whoſe Humor the rules of that Order gave a character, obliging the Builders to a Medium betwixt the ſolidity of the Dorick, and the Spruceneſs of the Corinthian Order. It is the ſame in Diſcourſe: The Flowers and Ornaments of Rhetorick are not proper [Page] for grave and majeſtick Subjects. Auſterity of ſtyle is unpleaſing, when the matter is fitter for mirth.

II.
Wbat ought to be the Style of an Orator.

THoſe who have writ hitherto of the Art of Speaking, ſeem to have intended their Rules only for Orators. Their precepts relate only to the Style of an Orator; and thoſe who ſtudy that Art, do look upon the copiouſneſs and richneſs of Expreſſion ſo much admired in the Diſcourſes of great Orators, as the chief and only Fruit of their Studies. 'Tis true, Eloquence appears more illuſtrious in that Style, which obliges me to give it the firſt place.

Orations commonly are to clear up ſome obſcure and controverted truth; and therefore they require a diffuſe Style, becauſe in thoſe caſes it is neceſſary to diſſipate all the clouds and obſcurities [Page] that obfuſcate the truth; thoſe who hear an Orator ſpeak, are not ſo much concerned as he in the cauſe he defends: They are not always attentive, or their apprehenſion not being ſo quick, they conceive things with more trouble; ſo that an Orator is bound to repeat the ſame thing ſeveral wayes, that if the firſt be defective, the ſecond or third may ſupply.

But this copiouſneſs conſiſts not in multitude of Epithetes, Words, and Expreſſions entirely ſynonimous. To evince a truth; to make it comprehenſible to the dulleſt and moſt diſtracted Wits, we muſt preſent it under ſeveral different Aſpects, with this Order, that the laſt Expreſſions be always more forcible than the firſt, and add ſomething to our Diſcourſe, in ſuch manner that without being tedious, we render that ſenſible and plain which we deſire to inculcate. A skilful man accommodates to the capacity of his Auditors; he keeps cloſe to his aſſertion, and quits it not till he has imprinted and fixed it in the mind of his Hearers.

[Page] Verities in Pleadings and Orations are not of the ſame nature with Mathematical truths. Mathematical Truths depend only on a few, and thoſe infallible principles. The other truths depend upon multitudes of circumſtances, that ſeparated ſignifie nothing, and are of no conviction but when they are joyn'd and united. They are not to be amaſs'd but by art, and in this it is that the ſubtilty of an Orator appears. They husband the leaſt circumſtance, and lay the ſtreſs of their argument upon little particularities, that perhaps another would have rejected with diſdain. Upon this ſcore Cicero ſwells his Orations with circumſtances that ſeem uſeleſs and mean. Why does he tell us of Milo's changing his ſhooes, of his putting on his Riding cloaths, of his departing late, and waiting for his Wife who was more tedious in her Dreſs according to the cuſtom of Women. It is, that the ſimplicity and life of the picture which he would ſet before our eyes, without omiſſion of the leaſt ſtroke or circumſtance of the action, [Page] might perſwade the Judges that there was nothing viſible in the conduct of Milo, that could make him reaſonably ſuſpected of meditating the murder of Clodius, as Milo's Enemies pretended.

Great Orators make uſe only of ſuch expreſſions as put a value upon their arguments. They endeavour to dazle the eyes of the Underſtanding, and to that end fight with none but glittering arms. Cuſtom not ſupplying them always with words proper to expreſs their judgment of things, and to make them appear in their genuine grandeur, they betake themſelves to Tropes which are uſeful to give what Colour they deſire to an action; to make it appear greater, or leſs, laudable or contemptible, juſt or unjuſt, as the Metaphors they imploy are capable of exalting or debaſing them. But they do often abuſe this art, and make themſelves ridiculous. We have no juſt right to diſguiſe an action, to habit it as we pleaſe; to call a Venial fault a Crime, or a Crime an excuſable fault. Crimes and faults give two different Idea's: [Page] If we do not uſe theſe terms with exactneſs, it implies want of Judgment, or want of Faith. A ſober hearer reſpects principally the thing, and before he ſuffers himſelf to be perſwaded by words, he examines whether they be juſt. I cannot but admire thoſe Orators who fancy they have utterly overthrown their adverſaries, when they have but droll'd upon their Arguments; they think they have clearly refuted them, when they have only loaded them with Injuries, turned their Reaſons into Ridicule, and ſpent all the Figures of their Art to repreſent them as contemptible as they deſire.

We cannot defend a Truth well, if we do not intereſt our ſelves ſeriouſly in its defence. That diſcourſe is faint and ineffectual that proceeds not from a heart zealouſly diſpoſed to contend for the truth when it has undertaken its protection. We have ſhown in our Second Book that as Nature puts the members of the Body into poſtures proper for defence, or inſult, in a ſingle Duel; ſo the ſame Nature [Page] prompts us to Figures in our Diſcourſe, and that we give them ſuch touches and circumſtances as may juſtifie the controverted truth, and refute all that is brought in oppoſition. Thus we ſee there is nothing ſo artificial as the Harangue of an Orator, who eſpouſes the Sentiments, and drives at nothing but the Intereſt of the perſon for whom he pleads.

CHAP. III.
What ought to be the Style of an Historian.

NExt to Oratory, there is no occaſion where Eloquence appears with more advantage, than in Hiſtory: and indeed it is the propereſt buſineſs of an Orator to write Hiſtory. Cicero tells us, Hiſtoria, opus est maxime Oratorium. By his mouth the actions of Great Men ought to be publiſhed; by his Pen their Memory ought to be tranſmitted to Poſterity. The chief qualities of an Hiſtorical [Page] Style are clearneſs and brevity. An Eloquent Hiſtorian relates not only the action, but every conſiderable circumſtance. An inſipid man gives us only the Carcaſs, and delivers things but by halfs; his relation is dry and jejune. When we tell of a Fight, and Victory that enſued, 'tis not like a Hiſtorian to ſay barely they Fought: we muſt tell the occaſion of the War; how it was begun, upon what deſign; what force was in the Field, in what place it was Fought, what accidents hapned, and by what Stratagems it was obtain'd. But above his Hiſtory, like a Glaſs, is to repreſent the Object ſimply as it is, without magnificence or diminution.

Brevity contributes to perſpicuity: I ſpeak not of that brevity which conſiſts in things; in the choice of what we are to ſay, or what we are to omit. The Style of an Hiſtorian ought to be cloſe and compact, free from long phraſes, and periods that hold the mind in ſuſpenſe; it muſt be equal, not interrupted with numerous Figures, partiality, or paſſion, all improper [Page] for an Hiſtorian: Not but that an Hiſtorian that is a good Orator may make uſe of his Eloquence; he muſt relate what is ſayd, as well as what is done: Speeches are Ornaments to a Hiſtory, in which Figures are neceſſary to deſcribe the zeal and paſſion of the Agents.

IV.
What ought to be the Style of a Dogmatical Aſſertion.

THe zeal we ſhow in the defence of a Controverted truth, ſets our thoughts on work, makes us look about every way for Arms, and make uſe of all the Forces of Rhetorick to triumph upon our adverſary. In Dogmatical points, where our Auditors are docible, and receive all as Oracles that we ſay, we have no occaſion for that zeal and fervour: Particularly in Geometry, the Poſitions are certain and evident; to propoſe them is ſufficient, without Rhetorical Illuſtration. [Page] It is not there as in the Law where the knowledg of truth is pleaſing to one, and diſpleaſing to another, inriches the one, and impoveriſhes the other. Who is he that will trouble himſelf to conteſt or defend a Propoſition in Geometry? the Geometrician demonſtrates that the three angles of a Triangle are equal to two right Angles: Whether this be true or falſe is indifferent, and no man will concern himſelf; for this Reaſon the Style of a Geometrician ought to be plain and naked, and free from thoſe Ornaments that Paſſion inſpires into an Orator. Beſides, the clearer and more evident a truth is, the more are we diſpoſed to expreſs it in that manner.

When we treat of Natural or Moral Philoſophy, our Style is not to be ſo dry and barren, as when we write of Geometry; the truths diſcovered in them depend not always upon ſuch ſimple principles. A man that applys himſelf eagerly to the ſolution of a Probleme in Geometry; to find out the Equation of Algebra, is ſtrict and [Page] auſtere, and cannot endure words introduc'd only for Ornament. Natural and Moral Philoſophy are not ſo knotty as to put the Reader into an ill humor by ſtudying them, and therefore the Style of thoſe Sciences needs not be ſo ſevere. The truths diſcovered in prophane Sciences are barren, and of little importance. Paſſions are not juſt and reaſonable, but when they provoke the mind to the diſcovery of ſome ſolid good, or the avoiding of ſome real evil: it is therefore a ridiculous thing to expreſs paſſion in the defence of an indifferent thing; to fly out into Tranſportations, and Raptures, and Figures, that diſcretion would reſerve for more conſiderable occaſions. I have not patience to ſee a man furious in defending the Reputation of Aristotle; to hear a man rail againſt another for not having ſo profound a Reverence for Cicero as himſelf; to exclaim and fall to work with his Figures againſt a poor Man that is perhaps miſtaken in the deſcription of the Roman or Greek Habits: And if you will have the truth, [Page] it is with little leſs averſion that I read the Works of ſome Divines, who handle the fundamental verities of our Religion as drily and ſlightly as if they were of no importance at all. It is a kind of Irreligion to be preſent at Divine Service, without ſome outward expreſſion of love, reſpect, and veneration; we cannot communicate in an irreverent poſture without ſin. Thoſe who profeſs Divinity, and would inſtruct others, muſt as much as in them lies imitate their great Maſter Chriſt Jeſus, who convinc'd the underſtanding, wrought upon the will, and inflam'd the heart of his Diſciples whilſt he taught them. It was this divine fire that he kindled in their minds, that the Diſciples acknowledged, Nonne cor erat ardens in nobis, dum nobiſcum loqueretur in via? With what coldneſs do the greateſt Devots read the Writings of our Scholiaſts? there is nothing in them that correſponds to the Majeſty of their Matter: Their arguments are low and flat, and ſufficient to depreciat the authority of the moſt authentick [Page] truths. Their expreſſions are reptile, their Style mean, without efficacy or vigoun. The holy Scripture is majeſtick: The Writings of the Fathers are full of love and zeal for thoſe truths that they teach. When the heart is on fire, the words that come from it muſt of neceſſity be ardent.

V.
[What ought to be the Style of a Poet.

A Poet is unconfin'd, we give him what liberty he pleaſes, and do not pin him up to the Laws of Cuſtom: This liberty is eaſily juſtified. Poets are deſirous to delight and ſurprize us by things that are great, wonderful, extraordinary: they cannot arrive at their deſigned end, unleſs they maintain the grandeur of things by the grandeur of words. All that they ſay being extraordinary, their expreſſions being to equal the dignity of their matter, ought likewiſe to be extraordinary; for this cauſe in [Page] Poetry we ſay nothing without Hyperboles and Metaphors, cuſtom not being able to ſupply us with terms that are ſtrong enough. A Poetical Diſcourſe is figure all over. The dignity of the matter filling the Soul of a Poet with Raptures, Eſteem, and Admiration, the courſe of his words cannot be equal; he is neceſſarily interrupted by floods of great motions whereby his mind is agitated. So, when the ſubject of his Verſe has nothing in it that can cauſe theſe commotions and raptures (as in Eclogues and Comedies, and certain other verſe whoſe matter is low:) his Style muſt be plain without Figures. It is the quality of great and extraordinary things that excuſes a Poet, and authorizes him in his manner of ſpeaking; for his matter being common, 'tis no more lawful for him than an Hiſtorian to decline common Expreſſion. Ordinarily we do not affect abſtracted verities that are not to be perceived but by the eyes of the mind. We are ſo accuſtomed to conceive only by the mediation of our ſenſes, that we are [Page] not able to comprehend barely with our minds, unleſs what we would underſtand be grounded and eſtabliſhed upon ſome ſenſible experiment. Hence it is that abſtracted Expreſſions are Enigma's to moſt people; and thoſe only pleaſe which are ſenſible, and do form in the Imagination the picture of the thing that is to be conceived. Poets, whoſe great end is to pleaſe, do uſe only theſe latter Expreſſions; and for the ſame reaſon it is, that Metaphors which (as we ſaid before) make every thing ſo plain, are ſo frequent in their Style. This deſire of ſtriking effectually upon the ſenſe, and making themſelves eaſily underſtood, has prompted the Poets to make uſe of ſo many Fictions, and indue every thing they mentioned with body, ſoul, and ſhape.

A Vapour rends the Clouds, and makes the crack,

The frighted World at armed Jove does quake.

[Page] 'Tis terrible to ſee torn Sails, broke Maſts,

Thetis face grown rough with Aeolus blaſts.

But raging Neptune's he, which makes the Graves

For Fleets, thoſe flying Cities, in his Waves.

When a Poet tells us, that Bellona Goddeſs of War put fear and terror into a whole Army, that the god Mars quickned the courage of the Souldier, theſe ways of expreſſing things gives a different impreſſion upon our ſenſe, from what we receive by the common way of Expreſſion, The whole Army was terrified; the Souldier was incouraged. Every Virtue, every Paſſion is a god among the Poets. Minerva is Prudence: Fear, Choller, Envy are Furies. When theſe words are conſidered only with the Idea's that common cuſtom has joyned to them, they make no great impreſſion; but the Goddeſs of Choller cannot be repreſented with her eyes full of Fury, her hands bloody, her mouth breathing [Page] fire, her Serpents, her lighted Torches, &c. but it begets a trembling and horror. In the Divine Poems, and in thoſe which were Sung before the Sanctuary, the Prophets made uſe of ſuch ways of ſpeaking to make themſelves intelligible to the people. David makes us conceive how God had ſuccoured and protected him againſt his Enemies in as lively and emphatical a ſtyle as any of the profane Poets could have done. He repreſents God Almighty coming down in the Clouds to fight in his defence.

I look't not long e're th'earth began to ſhake,

The Rocks to tremble, and the Hills to quake:

And to atteſt the preſence of its God,

Who to the Judgment on a Cherub rode,

The World its fixt foundation did forſake.

Out from his Noſtrils a thick ſmoak did go,

And from his mouth devouring fire,

[Page] Which more impetuous as it large did grow,

And made the Heavens almoſt with heat expire.

He bow'd the Heavens, and then came down,

Under his feet chain'd darkneſs lay,

And Tempeſts that no will but this will own,

In haſte flew on before to make him way.

He follow'd cloſe, and their ſlow pace did chide,

Bid them with greater ſpeed and ſwiftneſs ride.

And that he dreadful might appear,

Yet not conſume till got more near.

Dark Waters and thick Clouds his face did hide.

Poeſy awakens, Proſe lulls and diſpoſes to ſleep. The Narratives of a Poet are interrupted with Exclamations, Apoſtrophes, Digreſſions, and thouſands of other Figures to allure attention. Poets regard things only in places where they are moſt capable [Page] of charming, and mind nothing of them but their Grandeur or Rarity: They conſider not any thing that may cool their admiration. By this means they ſeem to be beſide themſelves; and giving way to the fire of their Imagination, they grow Enthuſiaſtick, and like the Sybil who being full of extraordinary Inſpiration, ſpake not the common Language of Mankind;

—Sed pectus anhelat,

Et rabie fera Corda tument; Majorq, videri,

Nec Mortale ſonans, efflata eſt numine quando

Jam propiore Dei.—

CHAP. V.

[Page]

I.
The beauty of Diſcourſe is an effect of an exact Obſervation of the Rules of Speaking.

AN antient Author has told us that Beauty is the flower of health. Flowers are the effect and declaration of the good condition of the Plant that produces them. Flouriſhes in diſcourſe proceed in the ſame manner from the good Complexion, that is, from the juſtneſs and exactneſs of a diſcourſe. The ſame thing admits of ſeveral Names according to the ſeveral faces by which it is repreſented. When Beauty is conſidered in it ſelf, it is the flower of health; but when it is conſidered with reference to thoſe who do judg of that Beauty, we may then ſay, that true Beauty is that which pleaſes Ingenious [Page] men, who are they that judg of things moſt reaſonably. It is a hard matter to determine what it is that pleaſes, and in what conſiſts that Je ne ſcay quoy of delight that we feel in the reading a good Author. Nevertheleſs upon reflexion we ſhall find the pleaſure we conceive in a well-compos'd Diſcourſe, proceeds only from the reſemblance betwixt the Image form'd by the words in our mind, and the things whoſe Image they bear; ſo that it is either the truth that pleaſes, or the conformity betwixt the words and the things. That which is called Great and Sublime, is nothing but that conformity in its perfection and excellence. Longinus in his Book of this Sublimity, has given us an example of a ſublime expreſſion taken out of the Firſt Chapter of Geneſis, where Moſes ſpeaking of the Creation, uſes theſe words; And God ſaid let there be light, and there was light; an expreſſion that gives a ſtrong Idea of the power of God over his Creatures, which was the thing that Moſes deſigned.

[Page] The greatneſs of an Expreſſion being founded upon its perſpicuity and force, it is no hard matter to determine which are the true Ornaments of Diſcourſe, and in what they conſiſt. A diſcourſe is beautiful when it is compos'd according to the Rules of Art; it is great when it is more than ordinary perſpicuous; when there is not one equivocation; no ſentence unintelligible; no expreſſion ambiguous; when it is well-diſpoſed, and the mind of the Reader led directly to the end of the deſign, without the remora or impediment of impertinent words. Such clearneſs like a Torch diſpells all obſcurity, and makes every thing viſible. We have ſhown already in our Third Book, that when we range our words in ſuch manner as their pronunciation is fluid and eaſy, they make a delightful harmony to every Body that hears them: ſo we need no other Rules for ſpeaking Ornately, than the Rules already given for ſpeaking juſtly.

Ornaments in Diſcourſe, like Ornaments of Nature, have this property, [Page] they are both pleaſant and profitable. In Natural Beauty whatever is comely, is uſeful. In an Orchard where the Trees are planted in rows, or in ſquares, the diſpoſition of them is pleaſant and uſeful; becauſe they are ſo ſet, that the Earth may communicate its juice equally to them all. Arbores in Ordinem, certaque intervalla redactae, placent; Quincunce nihil ſpecioſius eſt, ſed id quoque prodest, ut ſuccum terrae aequaliter trahant. Pillars are the principal Ornaments of Building, their beauty is link'd ſo ſtraitly with the ſolidity of the Work, that the Pillars cannot be pull'd down without deſtruction to the whole Houſe. The Ornaments of a good Diſcourſe are alſo inſeparable. Alluſions and ſporting with words; Figurative repetition of certain Syllables, and other Ornaments not altogether Eſſential, can give but ſmall ſatisfaction to thoſe who conſider them with the eye of Reaſon: for in a word, it is truth only that ſatisfies a rational man; in Ornaments there is nothing of truth; they do rather perplex and Embaraſs, [Page] and render things more unconceivable than if our Diſcourſe were ſimple and natural.

II.
The falſe Idea that men have of Grandeur, and their deſire to ſpeak nothing but Great things is the Cauſe of ill Ornaments.

THere are but few men that examine judiciouſly the things which preſent themſelves. We ſuffer our ſelves to be taken with Appearances, becauſe great things are rare, and extraordinary. Men do form to themſelves ſuch an Idea of Grandeur, that whatever carries an extraordinary aire, appears to them great. They put no value upon any thing that is common. They deſpiſe the manners of Speaking that are not natural, for no other reaſon but becauſe they are not extraordinary. They affect big words, and bombaſt phraſes, Seſquipedalia verba & ampullas. To dazle [Page] and amaze, we need only cloth our Propoſitions in ſtrange and magnificent Language. They conſider not whether under that dreſs there be any thing conceal'd that is effectually great and extraordinary. That which makes their ſtupidity the more remarkable is, that they admire what they do not underſtand, Mirantur quae non intelligunt; becauſe obſcurity has ſome appearance of Grandeur, ſublime and exalted things being for the moſt part obſcure and difficult.

Men having then ſo falſe an Idea of Grandeur, it is not to be admired if the Ornaments wherewith their works are adorn'd be falſe and numerous, becauſe as we have ſayd before, they deſire to ſpeak nothing but what is great. But mens ambition carrying them beyond their pitch, they miſcarry in their ſlight, and puff themſelves up, till they crack with the too great quantity of wind. Copiouſneſs is a mark of Grandeur; our impatience to appear copious, chokes up our thoughts with too great abundance of words. When men are pleas'd [Page] with a thing, they inſiſt upon it too much, and repeat it over and over. Neſciunt quod bene ceſſit relinquere. They are like young Hounds that worrey their Prey, and are not eaſily got off. Every thing is to be allowed its natural dimenſion. A Statute whoſe parts are diſproportionable, whoſe leggs are great, and arms ſmall, whoſe body is large and head ſmall, is monſtrous and irregular. The greateſt art of Eloquence is to keep the hearers attentive, and hinder them from looſing the proſpect of the end to which we would conduct them. But when we ſtop too long upon particular parts, we are many times imploy'd ſo much upon them, that we forget the principal Subject. Copiouſneſs therefore is not always good. Repletion and emptineſs are both Cauſes of Diſeaſe.

Amongſt Learned men thoſe are moſt eſteem'd who are beſt read. The difficulty of a Science advances its price; we have a value for thoſe who underſtand the Arabian and Perſian Languages; we never examine [Page] whether by thoſe Languages they have acquir'd any knowledg that is not to be found in other Authors; it is ſufficient if the skilful in theſe Languages underſtand that which is hard te be underſtood, and underſtood by few people. Our ambition to be thought Learned, and to intimate and oſtentate our Erudition, cauſes that either in Speaking or Writing, we name continually our Authors, though their authority be neceſſary no farther than to ſhow we have read them, and to make us paſs for Learned men. This humor St. Auſtin reproaches to Julian, Quis haec audiat, & non ipſo nominum, ſectarum (que) conglobatarum ſtrepitu terreatur, ſi eſt ineruditus, qualis est hominum multitudo, & existimet te aliquem magnum, qui haec ſcire potueris? they heap Greek upon Latin, and Hebrew upon Arabick. A trifle delivered in Greek is well enough receiv'd. An Italian phraſe however apply'd in diſcourſe, makes the Author paſs for a polite, well-bred man. Were it not cuſtomary and common, we ſhould be as much frighted [Page] at this wild way of ſpeaking, as at the diſcourſe of a mad-man. This is a fault that diſgraces a ſtyle, and hinders it from being natural and clear. If it be to add weight to our words, that we add the Names of our Authors, we ought to do it only when neceſſity requires us to make uſe of the authority and reputation of an Author. What need is there that we quote Euclid to prove that the whole is equal to all the parts: Or cite Philoſophers to perſwade the World that Winter is cold. I do not blame all theſe citations, on the contrary they are commendable, when the words are clear, and convenient to awaken the mind of the Reader by variety: It is only exceſs in this kind that is blameable. Thoſe who have read much are to imitate the Bee, which digeſts what it has ſuck'd from the flowers, and turns all into Honey. Nature loves ſimplicity. It is the ſign of diſtemper to have the skin marked wth ſpots of ſeveral colours. Too frequent ſentences trouble alſo the uniformity of a ſtyle: By the word Sentence is [Page] underſtood thoſe exalted and abſtracted thoughts that are to be expreſs'd in a conciſe way, and in few words; and theſe Sentences are called points. I ſpeak not of thoſe childiſh and falſe Sentences which have nothing in them but what is forced and unnatural. The beſt expreſſions plac'd too thick, do but perplex and incommode a Style, and render it rugged: and when they are ſeparated from the reſt of the diſcourſe, the Style may be ſayd to be rough and unpleaſing. Theſe abſtracted thoughts are like patches ſow'd together, which being of a different colour from the reſt of the ſtuff, make the Garment ridiculous, Curandum eſt ne ſententiae emineant extra Corpus orationis expreſſae, ſed intexto veſtibus colore niteant. Some love to interſperſe their diſcourſes with theſe kind of Sentences, ſuppoſing they add reputation to the Wit of the Author: Facie ingenii blandiuntur.

The laſt fault into which they fall who are deſirous to have the honour of doing ſomething exactly, proceeds from an extraordinary endeavour to [Page] make their Works excellent. A man who writes with too much affectation, is not capable of perceiving the obſcurity of his words. The darkeſt of them ſeem clear to him; he diſcovers eaſily all the Idea's that his Expreſſions ought to awaken to be underſtood, becauſe thoſe Idea's are preſent to him. But it is not the ſame with thoſe who read his Works, whoſe imaginations are not ſo hot, and who do not addreſs themſelves to penetrate the ſenſe of his words with ſo great zeal and application as he who compos'd them. When a man expreſſes himſelf with pain, we labour with him, and in ſome meaſure we participate of his pain: If he expreſſes himſelf eaſily and naturally, ſo as every word ſeems to fall into its place without the trouble of picking them, that eaſineſs is pleaſant. The ſight of a merry Man diſpoſes us to mirth.

This facility appears in a Treatiſe, when we make uſe of natural expreſſions, when we avoid thoſe which are elaborate, and carry the ſenſible marks of Writing with pain. Not but that [Page] to furniſh our ſelves with terms natural and proper, we have need ſometimes of ſtudy and application: But this ſtudy, this application ought not to appear. Ludentis ſpeciem dabit, & torquebitur. As much as we may, and the matter of which we treat will permit, we muſt give our diſcourſe this latitude and liberty of Converſation. Doubtleſs when a perſon in converſation ſpeaks eaſily and pleaſantly, it goes far towards towards the putting us into the ſame humour; the pleaſure we take in his diſcourſe, renders every thing eaſy that he ſays.

III.
Of Artificial Ornaments: Rules relating to thoſe Ornaments.

BEſides this natural Beauty which is the excellence and exactneſs of Diſcourſe, we are obliged to take notice of certain Ornaments that we may call Artificial. It muſt be acknowledged that in the Works of the [Page] moſt judicious Authors, ſome things are to be found that might have been ſpared without injury to their diſcourſe, without perplexity to the ſenſe, and without diminution to the ſtrength of their ſtyle. They are introduc'd only for Imbelliſhment, and are of no other uſe but to detain the mind of the Reader, and make him the more willingly attentive. Many times when we have ſaid all that is neceſſary, we add ſomething for Entertainment, and chooſe to expreſs our ſelves by Metaphors or Hyperboles: Though perhaps cuſtom affords us Terms proper enough to expreſs our Conceptions, yet we think it better in Diſcourſe to make uſe of Figures to prevent being tedious. When our Words and Expreſſions are well diſpos'd, and may be conveniently pronounc'd, we go farther, we meaſure them, and give them ſuch Cadence as may make them grateful to the ear. Nature ſports her ſelf ſometimes in her own Works: all Plants do not bear fruit, ſome having nothing but flowers. We cannot therefore abſolutely [Page] condemn theſe Ornaments that are inſerted only for the diverſion and entertainment of the Reader. They have their worth, but it is the right uſe of them that gives it. The following Rules will not be unprofitable for our uſing this copiouſneſs of Expreſſion with dexterity and Art. The firſt Rule to be obſerv'd in the diſtribution of Ornaments, is to apply them in their due time and place: Recreation is of Importance when we have been over-laden with buſineſs. When a ſubject is difficult, and that difficulty has perplex'd and troubled the Reader, we muſt have a care of ſuch ſporting with words as may increaſe his perplexity by diverting his thoughts before he comprehends. When we aim at nothing but conviction, diverſion is unpleaſant. Some things there are that admit of no Ornament, ſuch as theſe we call Dogmatical.

Ornari res ipſa negat, contenta doceri.

When the ſubject of our Diſcourſe is ſimple, all the reſt ought to be ſo [Page] too. Pretious Stones, and extraordinary Ornaments, are uſed only in great Feſtivals, and upon extraordinary occaſions.

The Second Rule requires that the Ornaments be juſt, and the Rules of Art exactly obſerved. Some people are ſo idle as not to concern themſelves for the impertinence or falſity of what they ſay, if it be ſpoken after the manner of a Sentence: If they can but hedg a Metaphor or other Figure into their Diſcourſe, they regard not whether what they ſay be for or againſt them: If they can bring in an Antitheſis, a Repetition, a Cadence that tickles the ſenſe, they care not how vain it be, and unſatisfactory to Reaſon. But we muſt know nothing is beautiful that is falſe; and if there be any thing that puts a value upon theſe fallacious Ornaments, it is becauſe they dazle us by their falſe luſtre, and deafen us by their inſignificant Noiſe; or if I may ſpeak my thoughts freely, it is becauſe our judgments are defective. A Noble mind affects things and truth in diſcourſe [Page] rather than words. St. Auſtin tells us, Bonorum ingeniorum inſignis eſt indoles, in verbis verum amare, non verba. I cannot value a Diſcourſe that tickles my ear, unleſs the matter pleaſes my judgment. Nullo modo mihi ſonat diſerte, quod dicitur inepte.

The Third Rule in theſe Artificial Ornaments is to conſider firſt what is uſeful; to make choice of ſuch terms and expreſſions as are capable of imprinting in the minds of our Auditors ſuch thoughts and motions as we deſire to give them. The firſt thing that takes up the thoughts of an Architect, is the raiſing of his walls, and erecting ſuch ſtrong Pillars as may ſupport the Superſtructure. If he has a mind to beautifie, he adorns his Pillars with Gutter-work, his Corniſhes with Frezes, and Flowers, and Metopes, and Treglyphes, and other decorations wherewith his art ſupplies him. But this is to be obſerv'd, things of Ornament are never ſet up till the ſolid and ſubſtantial part of the building be finiſhed.

[Page] The laſt Rule is, that we keep a juſt Moderation in our Ornaments; they muſt not be too frequent: The greateſt pleaſures are the ſooneſt gone: Omnis voluptas (ſays St. Auſtin) habet finitimum faſtidium. Nothing is more graceful than the eye, but he that ſhould have more in his face than two, would be a Monſter. Confuſion of Ornaments hinders diſcourſe from being clear: and it is as obſervable as any thing I have hitherto ſayd, that exceſs of Ornaments keeps the mind of the hearer from being intent upon the ſubſtance. This happens very frequently in Panegyricks, where Orators are uſually laviſh of their Eloquence, and with full hands throw about the flowers of their Art. The hearer admires the Orator, but never thinks upon the perſon commended. We are in every thing to reſpect the deſign. When we would arrive happily at the end of our journey, we chooſe the beſt way we can find; but it muſt be ſure to conduct us thither. When leaves cover the Fruit, and hinder their ripening, we [Page] pull off thoſe Leaves without conſidering that we rob the Trees of ſuch beautiful Ornnments.

For this Reaſon it is, that the Holy Ghoſt which directed the Pens of the Apoſtles, ſuffered them not to make uſe of the Rhetorick and pompous Eloquence of profane Orators, which deludes the eye, and makes us conſider rather the beauty of words, than the ſenſe and reaſon of things. The Sacred Scriptures were nor writ to indulge our Vanity, but to edifie our Souls. Thoſe who in Books require nothing but idle diverſion, do undervalue them; but he who loves Reaſon and Matter, ſhall find enough in the Holy Scriptures to delight and edify himſelf. One ſingle Pſalm of Davids is worth more than all the Odes of Pindar, Anacreon, and Horace. Demoſthenes and Cicero are not to be compar'd to Iſaiah. All the Works of Plato and Ariſtotle are not equivalent to one of St. Paul's Chapters. For in ſhort, words being nothing but ſound, we ought not to prefer their harmony to the ſolid knowledg [Page] of truth. For my own part I value not the Art of Speaking, but as it contributes to the diſcovery of truth; as it forces it from the bottom of our thoughts where it lay conceal'd; as it diſintangles it, and diſplays it to our eyes; and indeed this is the true cauſe that has incouraged me to write of this Art, as a thing not only uſeful, but neceſſary.

IV.
The former Table refuted, and the true Original of Languages declared.

IF that which Diodorus Siculus has writ of the Original of Languages be true, what we have fancy'd of our new men forming a Language to themſelves, would not be a Fable, but a true Story. That Author ſpeaking of the opinion of the Greeks in relation to the beginning of the World, tells us, that after the Elements had taken their places in the Univerſe, and the Waters were run down into the Sea, the Earth being yet moiſt, was chafed by the heat of the Sun, became fruitful, and produced man [Page] and the reſt of the Creatures. That theſe men being diſpers'd up and down in ſeveral places, found by experience that to defend themſelves againſt the Beaſts, it would be convenient to live together: That at firſt their words were confuſed and groſs, which they poliſhed afterwards, and eſtabliſhed ſuch terms as were judged neceſſary for the explanation of their thoughts; and that in time men being born in ſeveral corners of the Earth, and by conſequence divided into ſeveral Societies, of which every one had form'd to it ſelf a diſtinct Language, it followed that all Nations did not make uſe of the ſame Language.

Theſe are the conjectures of the Greeks, who had no true knowledg of Antiquity: Plato reproaches it to them in one of his Dialogues, where he brings in Timaeus telling that the Egyptians commonly call'd the Greeks children, becauſe they underſtood no more than Children, from whence they had their Original, or what paſs'd in the world before they were born; [Page] ſo that we are not much to depend upon their Salvation. All the antient monuments of Antiquity bear witneſs to the verity of what Moſes relates in Geneſis about the Creation of the World, and the Original of man-kind.. We underſtand from thence that God formed Adam the firſt of his Sex, and gave him a Language of which alone his Children made uſe till the building of the Tower of Bebel ſome time after the Deluge. The deſign of building that Tower, was to defend themſelves againſt God himſelf: If ever he ſhould puniſh the world with another Deluge, they hop'd by that Edifice to protect themſelves againſt him; and they were ſo inſolent in their Enterprize, that God Almighty finding them obſtinate, ſent ſuch Confuſion into their Language and Words as diſabled them from underſtanding one another; by which means their deſign was fruſtrated, and they forc'd to deſiſt and ſeparate into ſeveral Countries.

The common Opinion concerning [Page] this Confuſion is, that God did not ſo confound the Languages of theſe Undertakers, as to make ſo many ſeveral Languages as there were men. It is believed only that after this Confuſion, every Family made uſe of a particular Language; from whence it followed that the Families being divided, the men were diſtinguiſhed as well by difference of Languages, as the places to which they retir'd. This Confuſion conſiſted not alone in the Novelty of Words, but in the alteration, tranſpoſition, addition, or retrenchment of ſeveral Letters which compos'd their familiar words before that Confuſion. Hence it is that we eaſily deduce from the Hebrew Language (which is rationally preſumed to be that which was ſpoken by Adam, and uſed a long time afterwards) the Original of the antient Names of Towns, and Provinces, and their Inhabitants, as has been prov'd by ſeveral Learned men, and particularly by Samuel Bochart in his Sacred Geography.

The uſe of words then did not come [Page] by chance; it was God who taught them at firſt, and from the firſt Language that he gave to Adam, all other Languages are deriv'd, that being afterwards divided and multiplyed as aforeſaid. Yet this Confuſion which God brought into the Languages of the Builders of the Tower of Babel, was not the ſole Cauſe of the great diverſity and multiplicity of Languages. Thoſe in uſe at this time in the world are much more numerous than the Families of the children of Noah, when they were ſeparated, and much different from their Languages. As in all other things, ſo in Languages, there are inſenſible alterations that in time makes them all appear quite other than what they were at firſt. It is not to be doubted but our preſent French is deriv'd from that which was ſpoken five hundred years ſince: and yet we can ſcarce underſtand what was ſpoken but two hundred years ago. It is not to be imagin'd that theſe alterations happen'd only to the French Tongue. Quintilian tells us that the Language of the Romans in his time [Page] was ſo different from what it was at firſt, that the Prieſts could ſcarce underſtand the old Hymns compos'd by their Primitive Prieſts to be Sung before their Idols.

The inconſtancy of man is a principal cauſe of this alteration. His love to Novelty makes him contrive new words inſtead of the old, and introduce ſuch ways of Pronunciation as in proceſs of time changes entirely the old Language into new. So that thoſe who are inquiſitive after the Etymology or Original of new Languages, to diſcover how they are deriv'd from the Antients, ought to conſider what have been the different manners of pronunciation in different times, and how by thoſe different manners the words have been ſo chang'd, that they appear quite different from what they were in their Original. For example, there is no great conformity betwixt Ecrire in French, and Scribere in Latin, betwixt Etabler, and Stabilire. In time it came to be the cuſtom not to pronounce the Letter S after E at the beginning of a word, and then [Page] they writ Ecribere, Etabilere, and at length abbreviating farther, they came to write Ecrire, Etabler. Changes of this Nature have ſo diſguiz'd the Latine words, that they have made a new Language. In all Languages it is the ſame with the French, which with the Spaniſh and Italian proceeds from the Latin. Latin comes from the Greek, Greek from Hebrew, as the Chaldee, and Syriack. It is the different manners of Pronunciation that have caus'd the great difference at preſent in all Languages. We are much ſurpriz'd at firſt, when from an antient Language we can derive any word of a new Language: for example, a Latin from an Hebrew word, if their difference be conſiderable. The ſurprize proceeds from this, that no notice is taken that the Latin word before it received its preſent form, paſs'd through ſeveral Countries and Conditions that altered it. Theſe conditions are the different manners with which it has been pronounc'd.

People have particular inclinations for particular Letters, and particular [Page] terminations; apprehending either by fancy or reaſon, that the pronunciation of theſe Letters; and thoſe terminations is more eaſy, and accommodate to their natural diſpoſitions. This is particularly remarkable in the Greek Tongue; and is it, that has introduc'd in the common uſe of that Language, the particularities called Dialects. The Atticks for Example inſtead of [...], put [...]. They add the Syllable [...] at the end of many of their words; they do frequently add [...] to the end of their Adverbs: They contract their words in oppoſition to the Jonians who lengthen them. The Doricks uſe the ae very often. The Aeolians uſe [...] before ( [...]), of two [...] they make two [...], they change the ( [...]) into [...]. It is the ſame with the Chaldee, in reſpect of the Hebrew. The Italians, French, and Spaniſh have their peculiar Letters and terminations, as may be ſeen by their Grammars and Dictionaries. Theſe peculiarities do manifeſtly change much of their Languages, and create great difference betwixt them; ſo that though they proceed [Page] from the ſame Parents (if I may ſo ſay) they do not ſeem to be Siſters. For the French, Italian, and Spaniſh, ſeem to be deriv'd from ſeveral Languages.

The changes and revolutions that happen to States, produce alteration in Languages, becauſe in alteration of Governments ſeveral different People are united, from which mixture confuſion of Language muſt neceſſarily follow. So our French Language is not deriv'd wholly from Latin, but compos'd of ſeveral words in uſe among the antient Gauls and Germans, with whom the Romans cohabited in Gallia. The Engliſh Tongue has ſeveral French words, introduced upon occaſion of the Engliſh remaining a long time in France, of which the greateſt part was in their poſſeſſion. The Spaniards have ſeveral Arabick words derived to them from the Moors, under whoſe Dominion they were for ſome Centuries of Years. Terms of Art proceed commonly from the places where thoſe Arts have been ſtudied and improved. Whence it [Page] comes that the Greeks having laboured moſt towards the cultivation of Sciences, the terms of the Liberal Arts are generally Greek. The Art of Navigation has been infinitely improv'd in the North, and therefore the terms of Navigation are generally in the language of the North.

Colonies have been a great means of the multiplication of Languages. It is manifeſt the Tyrians who traded formerly all over the world, have carryed their Language into moſt Countries. At Carthage (a Colonie of the Tyrtans) they ſpoke the Language of the Phenicians, which was a Dialect of Hebrew, as may be prov'd by ſeveral Arguments, but particularly by the Verſes in the Punick or Carthaginian Language, to be read in Plautus. But as we have ſayd, Colonies multiply Languages, and make ſeveral out of one, becauſe thoſe who are remov'd into thoſe Colonies, not underſtanding well enough their own Language to preſerve it without corruption, are apt to participate of the Language to which they are remov'd; [Page] by which means they by degrees begin to ſpeak both Languages, and frame a third of them both. It is no hard matter to trace out the Original of Languages, if we have any ſmattering of Antiquity; but my deſign ſuffers me not to enlarge upon this Subject. From what is ſayd, it appears clearly that Cuſtom changes Languages, that cuſtom makes them what they are, and exerciſes a Soveraignty over them, that ſhall be evinced more amply in the following Chapter.

A Diſcourſe, in which is given an Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion.

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CHAP. I.

I.
What are the Parts of the Art of Perſwaſion.

THough the Arts of Speaking and Perſwading are both comprehended under the name of Rhetorick by ſeveral great Maſters, yet it is not to be deny'd but there is great difference betwixt them. Every man who ſpeaks well, has not the ſecret of working [Page] upon the Affections, or working to his ſide, ſuch as were before of a contrary opinion; and this is call'd to perſwade. Wherefore being to treat of theſe two Arts, I choſe to do it ſeparately; yet I ſhall in this place only give an Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion, not being able to treat of it in its full latitude, becauſe it borrows its Arms from ſeveral other Arts, and cannot be ſeparated from them, as I ſhall ſhow in the ſequel of this diſcourſe.

To Perſwade, we muſt find out a way to bring People to our Sentiments, that were of a contrary Sentiment before: We muſt put our matter in Order in our minds, and having fairly dispos'd it, we muſt make choice of ſuch words as are proper to expreſs it. We muſt get by heart what we write, that we may pronounce it with more advantage; ſo the Art of Perſwaſion conſiſts of five parts. The firſt is, Invention of Proper Names; the Second is, Diſpoſition of thoſe means: The Third is, Elocution: The Fourth, Memory: The Fifth, [Page] Pronunciation. When a truth is eagerly conteſted, unleſs we be blinded with Intereſt, Perverſeneſs, or Paſſion, good proof is ſufficient to convince us; to remove all difficulties, and diſpel all clouds. But when the controverſy is with people that are not fond of the truth; that are perverſe in their inclinations, and prepoſſeſs'd by their Paſſions, Reaſon is too weak, and we muſt make uſe of cunning. Upon this occaſion two things are to be done; we muſt ſtudy their humours and inclinations to gain them: And becauſe moſt men judging (according to their Paſſions) that their Friends were in the right, and their Enemies in the wrong, we muſt infuſe ſuch Motions into them as may bring them to our ſide: Wherefore the Maſters in that Art have owned three ways of Perſwading; Arguments, Manners, and Paſſion. They teach us that to perſwade we muſt find proofs; we muſt deliver our ſelves ſo as to work upon the Inclinations of him we would gain, or excite ſuch paſſion in his mind as may diſpoſe him to our Party.

II.
The Invention of Proofs.

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CLearneſs is the character of Truth; no doubt can be made of a clear truth, and when it is evident in the higheſt degree, the moſt ſullen and obſtinate are obliged to throw down their Arms, and ſubmit to conviction. No man will ever deny that the whole is greater than the part; That all the parts united are equal to the whole, &c. Sometimes we turn our faces, and will not ſee the clearneſs of ſuch truths as offend us: Yet at length, when in ſpight of our Averſion, truth ſtrikes ſtrongly upon our eyes, we are glad to ſurrender, and our Tongues many times give the lye to our Minds. To perſwade thoſe whoſe Diſputes are grounded only upon the obſcurity or uncertainty of a Propoſition, we muſt make uſe of one or more inconteſtable Propoſitions, and make it appear that the Propoſition conteſted [Page] is the ſame with thoſe which are inconteſtable. The Roman Judges doubted whether Milo had done ill in killing of Claudius; they doubted not but it was lawful to repel force by force. Cicero to clear the innocence of the accuſed party, made uſe of theſe two Propoſitions, We may kill him that would murder us, and therefore Milo might kill Claudius for ſeeking his life. One of theſe Propoſitions is clear, the other obſcure: One is granted on all hands, the other uncertain; yet they ſignifie but the ſame thing, and by conſequence one of them being inconteſtable, the other muſt be ſo too. It is the firſt part of Philoſophy call'd Logick, to give Rules of Argumentation, and therefore it is not without reaſon that we have ſayd in the beginning of this Diſcourſe, that to handle this Art of Perſwaſion in its full dimenſion, we muſt treat of ſeveral other Arts, which could not be done without Confuſion.

The matter of the Art of Perſwading is not limited: This Art ſhows [Page] it ſelf in the Pulpit, at the Bar, at all manner of buſineſs and converſation; for in a word, the whole end of Commerce and Converſation is to perſwade thoſe with whom we deal, and reduce them to our Sentiments. To be then a compleat Orator, and ſpeak well upon any thing that occurs (as the Rhetoricians pretend their Diſciples may,) we ought to be univerſally well-read, and ignorant of nothing: for a man indeed is not perfectly capable of Arguing, but when he underſtands his Subject to the bottom; when his mind is full of clear truths, and undoubted Maxims, from whence Conſequences may be deduced to decide the Controverſie in queſtion. For example, a Divine argues rationally and well, when to perſwade an Adverſary to his Opinion, he produces Texts of Scripture; the Fathers, the Councils, Tradition, and the Teſtimony of the Church.

III.
Of Common Places.

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THere is no way of filling the mind with certain truths upon the matters of which we are to Treat, like ſerious Meditation, and long ſtudy, of which few men are capable: Knowledg is a Fruit environ'd with Thorns, that keep moſt men at a diſtance: ſo that if it were not lawful to ſpeak of any thing but what we know, the moſt part of thoſe who make Oratory their Profeſſion, would be oblig'd to hold their peace. To obviate ſo inevitable an inconvenience, theſe Orators have ſought out ſhort and eaſy ways to ſupply themſelves with matter of diſcourſe, even upon Subjects on which they are entirely ignorant. They diſtribute theſe ways into ſeveral Claſſes, which they call Common-Places, becauſe they are publickly expos'd, and every man may take out freely what Arguments he [Page] pleaſes to prove what is in diſpute, though perhaps he be quite ignorant of the thing in Controverſy himſelf. The Logicians ſpeak of theſe Common-places in their Topicks. I ſhall explain in few words the uſe of theſe Common-places, and afterwards ſhow what judgment is to be made of them.

Common-places do properly contain nothing but general advice that remembers thoſe who conſult them of all the faces by which a ſubject may be conſidered; and this may be convenient, becauſe viewing a Subject in that manner on all ſides, without doubt we may find with more eaſe what is moſt proper to be ſayd on that ſubject. A thing may be obſerv'd a hundred different ways, yet it has pleaſed the Authors of thoſe Topicks to eſtabliſh only 16 Common-places.

The Firſt of theſe Common-places is the Genus; that is to ſay, we muſt conſider in every ſubject what it has in common with all other the like Subjects. If we ſpeak of the War with the Turks, we may conſider War [Page] in general, and draw our Arguments from that Generality.

The Second place is call'd Difference, by which we conſider what-ever is peculiar to a Queſtion.

The Third is Definition; that is to ſay, we muſt conſider the whole nature of the Subject: The Diſcourſe which expreſſes the nature of a thing, is the definition of that thing.

The Fourth place is Enumeration of the parts contain'd in the Subject of which we Treat.

The Fifth is the Etymologie of the Name of the Subject.

The Sixth is the Conjugates, which are the Names which have connexion with the name of our Subject, as the word love has connexion with all theſe other words, to love, loving, friendſhip, lovely, friend, &c.

We may likewiſe conſider the ſimilitude, or diſſimilitude, in the things of which we treat; which two Conſiderations make the Seventh and the Eighth places.

We may likewiſe make Compariſon, and in our compariſon introduce every [Page] thing to which our ſubject is oppos'd, and this Compariſon and Oppoſition are the Ninth and Tenth places.

The Eleventh place is Repugnance; that is to ſay, in diſcourſing upon a Subject, we muſt have an eye upon thoſe things that are repugnant to it, to diſcover the Proofs wherewith that Proſpect may furniſh us.

'Tis of importance to conſider all the Circumſtances of the matter propos'd: but theſe Circumſtances have either preceded, or accompanyed, or followed the thing in queſtion; ſo theſe Circumſtances do make the Twelfth, Thirteenth, and Fourteenth places. All the Circumſtances that can accompany an action, are commonly comprehended in this Verſe

Quis, quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis, cur, quomodo, quando.

That is to ſay we are to examin who is the Author of the Action; what the action is; where it was done; by what means; for what end; how; and when.

The Fifteenth place is the Effect: and the Sixteenth the Cauſe; that is to [Page] ſay, we muſt have regard to the Effect, of which the thing in diſpute may be the cauſe; and to the things of which it may be the effect.

Theſe Common-places do without doubt ſupply us with ample matter for Diſcourſe. The different Conſiderations preſent us with ſeveral Arguments, and are able queſtionleſs to furniſh the moſt barren Invention. I examine not now whether this ſupply be commendable or not. According to this method if we be to ſpeak againſt a Parricide; we ſpeak againſt Parricide in General, and then bring it home to the perſon accus'd, and to the reſt of the Particulars; then we proceed to the Circumſtances of Parricide, diſcovering the blackneſs of the Crime by Definitions, Deſcriptions, Enumerations. Sometimes the Etymology of the Name of the thing upon which we are ſpeaking, and the other Names that have reference to it, ſupply us with matter. A long Diſcourſe might be rais'd upon the Obligation which Chriſtians have to live well, by only remembring them of the Name that they bear.

[Page] Diſcourſes are much inlarged by Similitudes, Diſſimilitudes, and Compariſons, that ſerve to remove a difficulty, and illuſtrate an obſcure truth. In a word, he who ſhould Circumstantiate an action, deſcribe what was precedent, concomitant, and ſubſequent, what was the cauſe, and what was the Effect, would ſooner tire his Auditory, than want matter for Diſcourſe.

IV.
Of Places proper to particular Subjects.

THe Places of which we have ſpoke are called common, becauſe they are expoſed to all the world, and becauſe they furniſh Arguments for all cauſes: There are other places proper to particular ſubjects. Before we ſpeak of thoſe places, it is to be conſidered that there are two ſorts of Queſtions; The Firſt is called Theſis, the other Hypotheſis. A Theſis is a queſtion not determin'd by [Page] any circumſtance of time, place, or perſon, as whether War be to be made. An Hypotheſis is a queſtion defin'd, and circumſtantiated, as whether War be to be made with the Turk in Hungary this Year. But all theſe queſtions may be referr'd to three kinds: For we deliberate whether ſuch an action is to be done; we examine what Judgment is to be made of that action, and we either approve or diſlike the action. The firſt kind is call'd Deliberative; the Second, Judiciary; the Third, Demonſtrative. Each of theſe kinds has its peculiar places, that is to ſay as is ſayd before, there are certain Counſels and Directions given for each of theſe kinds. As in caſe of the Deliberative, according as we would adviſe the undertaking, or quitting of an action, we muſt ſhow that it is uſeful, or not uſeful; neceſſary, or unneceſſary; that the ſucceſs will be prejudicial, or advantageous; and that the Enterprize is juſt or unjuſt.

A Judiciary Queſtion may be conſidered in one of theſe three States; either [Page] we know not the Author of the action that is the ſubject of our Diſcourſe, and then becauſe we endeavour to diſcover the ſaid Author by Conjectures, that is call'd the ſtate of Conjectures. If the Author be known, we examine the nature of the action. For Example, A Thief steals out of a Church the treaſure which a private perſon left there in depoſito: We examine whether this action be Sacriledg, or ſimple Theft. We conſider the definition of the crime; and therefore we call the one the ſtate of Definition, and the other the ſtate of Quality, becauſe the quality of the action is to be examin'd as whether it be juſt or unjuſt.

In the firſt ſtate it is to be conſidered whether the perſon ſuſpected would have committed ſuch a Crime if he could, and what Tokens there are of it. We judg of his Will, by conſidering what advantage it would be to him to commit it. We judg of his Power, by conſidering his ſtrength, opportunity, and other means: and we judg whether he was effectually guilty [Page] or not, by the circumſtances of the action; as whether he was found alone in the place where it was committed; whether before or after it was committed he did, or let fall, any thing that may make him rationally ſuſpected.

In the Second State we conſider only the nature of the Action: All that can be ſayd of it, depends upon particular knowledg. In the Third State we conſult Reaſon, Laws, Cuſtom, Preſidents, Compacts, and Equity.

In the Demonstrative-kind, to approve an action or condemn it, we muſt conſider the Good or the Bad. Goods in a man are to be conſidered three ways; in reſpect of his Body, in reſpect of his Mind, and in reſpect of his Eſtate. Goods relating to the Body are felicity of Country, nobility of Birth, advantage of Education, Health, Strength, Beauty, &c. Goods relating to the Mind are Virtue, Sagacity, Prudence, Learning, &c. Goods relating to the Eſtate, are Riches, Honours, Imployments, Commands, &c.

All theſe places proper and common [Page] to each of theſe three kinds, are call'd interiour or intrinſick, to diſtinguiſh them from the Exteriour which are five, that is to ſay the Laws, the Witneſſes, the Practice, the Tranſactions, and the Anſwers of the Perſons examin'd. The Lawyer is never put to the trouble of ſearching his Proofs: The Client or Solicitor puts into his Councils hands his Breviate, his Bonds, his Tranſactions; produces the Depoſitions of his Witneſſes, and the anſwer of him that was examin'd.

V.
Reflexions upon this method of Places.

THus in few words have I ſhown the Art to find Arguments upon all Subjects of which the Rhetoricians are accuſtomed to Treat, which makes the greateſt part of their Rhetorick. It is our buſineſs to judg of the uſefulneſs of this method. My reſpect for [Page] thoſe Authors who have commended it, obliges me to give you an Abridgment, that you may underſtand the bottom of it. It is not to be doubted but the helps accrewing from it are of ſome kind of uſe. They make us take notice of ſeveral things from whence Arguments may be drawn; they teach us how a Subject may be vary'd and diſcovered on all ſides. So as thoſe who are skill'd in the Art of Topicks, may find matter enough to amplifie their diſcourſe; nothing is barren to them; they ſpeak of every thing that occurs, as largely and as oft as they pleaſe. Thoſe who reject theſe Topicks, do not deny their Fecundity; they grant that they ſupply us with infinite numbers of things; but they alledg that that Fecundity is inconvenient; That the things are trivial, and by conſequent the Art of Topicks furniſhes nothing that is fit for us to ſay. If an Orator (ſay they) underſtands the ſubject of which he treats; if he be full of inconteſtable Maxims that may inable him to reſolve all Difficulties ariſing upon that ſubject; If it be a [Page] queſtion in Divinity, and he be well read in the Fathers, Councils, Scriptures, &c. He will quickly perceive whether the queſtion propos'd be Orthodox, or otherwiſe. It is not neceſſary that he runs to his Topicks, or paſſes from one common place to another, which are unable to ſupply him with neceſſary knowledg for deciſion of his Queſtion. If on the other ſide an Orator be ignorant, and underſtands not the bottom of what he Treats, he can ſpeak but ſuperficially, he cannot come to the point; and after he has talk'd and argued a long time, his Adverſary will have reaſon to admoniſh him to leave his tedious talk that ſignifies nothing; to interrupt him in this manner, Speak to the purpoſe; oppoſe Reaſon againſt my Reaſon, and coming to the Point, do what you can to ſubvert the Foundations upon which I ſuſtain my ſelf. Separatis locorum Communium Nugis, res cum re, ratio cum ratione, cauſa cum cauſa confligat.

If it be urg'd in favour of Common-Places, that indeed they do not [Page] fully inſtruct us what to ſay upon all occaſions, but they help us to the diſcovery of Infinite Arguments that defend and fortifie one another. To this it is anſwered, and I am of the ſame Opinion, That to perſwade, we need but one Argument, if it be ſolid and ſtrong, and that Eloquence conſiſts in clearing of that, and making it perſpicuous. All thoſe feeble Arguments (proper as well to the accuſed, as the accuſer, and as uſeful to refel as affirm) deriv'd from Common-places, are like ill Weeds that choke the Corn.

This Art is dangerous for perſons of but indifferent Learning, becauſe it makes them acquieſce and ſit down with ſmall ſuggeſtions eaſily obtain'd, and neglect to ſeek after others of more ſolid Importance. A witty man ſpeaking of the method of which Raimondus Lullius treated after a particular manner, calls it An Art of Diſcourſing without judgment of things we do not underſtand. I had rather ſays Cicero, be wiſe without Eloquence, than Eloquent without Wiſdom. [Page] Mallem indiſertam ſapientiam, quam stultitiam loquacem. To this may be added, that in all Diſcourſe, whatever ſerves not to the reſolution of the Queſtion, ought to be retrench'd; and after ſuch retrenchment I ſuppoſe very few things would remain wherewith our Topicks had furniſhed us.

CHAP. II.

I.
The Second Means to Perſwade.

IF men lov'd truth, and ſought it ſincerely; to make them entertain it, there would be no need of any thing but to propoſe it ſimply, and without art, as we have already obſerv'd; but they hate it, and becauſe it conſiſts not with their Intereſts, they do willingly blind themſelves that they may not ſee it: They are too much lovers of themſelves to be perſwaded [Page] that what is diſagreeable to them, is true. Before they admit any thing to be true, they will be aſſured it ſhall no way incommode them. 'Tis in vain to uſe powerful Arguments to perſons reſolv'd not to hear them, who look upon the truth that is offer'd as an Enemy to their deſigns, and reject her luſter, for fear it ſhould make their wickedneſs conſpicuous: We are conſtrain'd therefore to uſe the greateſt part of Mankind, as we do people in a Frenzy, we conceal ſuch Remedies as are intended for their Cure. So that the truths of which it is neceſſary they ſhould be perſwaded, are to be deliver'd with ſuch art, that they may poſſeſs the heart before they be perceiv'd; and as if they were Children, they are to be coax'd and flatter'd till they take down the Medicine that is prepar'd for their Cure.

Orators acted by true zeal, are to ſtudy all poſſible ways of gaining their Auditors to the entertaining of truth. A fond Mother trims up her Child, and her tenderneſs is ſuch, that ſhe [Page] diſpoſes all people (as much as in her lyes) to be as fond of it as her ſelf. If we loved truth, we ſhould be impatient to make it appear as lovely to every body elſe. The Fathers of the Church have always made it their care to avoid whatever might render the Church grievous. When Jeſus Chriſt began to preach his Goſpel to the Jews, who were jealous for the Honour of Moſes's Law, our Saviour (as is obſerv'd by St. Chryſostom) declares that he came not to deſtroy that Law, but to fulfil it. Without this they would have ſtop'd their ears, and never have heard him.

We have ſayd that antient Rhetoricians plac'd the Art of Perſwading in the knowledg how to inſtruct, how to incline, and how to move an Auditory: all that was to be done, was docere, flectere, and movere. I have ſhown the ways that theſe great Maſters have recommended for diſcovery of ſuch things as may inſtruct us by illuſtrating the Subject upon which we are to ſpeak. I ſhall here make ſome few reflexions upon the means [Page] of inſinuating into the affections of our Hearers Common Rhetorick hath none of theſe Reflexions: So though my deſign was not to Treat of the Art of Speaking in its full Extent, yet I ſhall ſay more of it than thoſe who pretend to omit nothing. 'Tis true the art of working upon an Auditory is much above the reach of a Young Schollar, for whom the antient Rhetoricks were properly made. This Art is acquir'd by ſublime Speculations, by reflexions upon the nature of our mind, upon our inclinations, and motions of our will. 'Tis the fruit of Experience and long Obſervation of the manner wherewith men act and govern themſelves; in a word, this Art is no where to be caught ſo methodically as in the precepts of Morality.

II.
Qualities requir'd in a perſon who would gain upon an Auditory.

IT is of importance that an Auditory has an eſteem for the perſon [Page] who ſpeaks. An Orator is to profeſs and give ſome teſtimony of his Friendſhip to thoſe whom he deſires to perſwade, and pretend it is pure zeal to their Intereſt that prompts him to ſpeak. Modeſty is abſolutely neceſſary, for nothing is ſo invincible an obſtacle to perſwaſion as arrogancy and boldneſs. Wherefore in an Orator theſe four Qualities are eſpecially requiſite, Probity, Prudence, Civility, and Modeſty.

It is clear our eſteem for the probity and prudence of an Orator, makes many times a great part of his Eloquence, and diſpoſes us to ſurrender even before we know what he will ſay. 'Tis doubtleſs the effect of great prae occupation; but that prae occupation is not amiſs; nor is it to be confounded with a certain obſtinate headineſs that inclines us to adhere to falſe Opinions in ſpight of all Reaſons to the contrary. Beſides that the words of a zealous man full of ardour for the truth, kindle and inflame the hearts of the hearers, it adds great reputation to what he ſays, when he [Page] is looked upon as honeſt, and one who would not delude us; nor is it more unreaſonable that we ſubmit our judgments to their light, who are very eminent for their wiſdom; ſo that it is more advantage for an Orator to be famous for his Virtue than his Learning. Quintilian tells us, In Oratore non tam dicendi facultas, quam honesta vivendi ratio eluceſcat. Chriſtianity obliges thoſe who are Preachers ſtudiouſly to endeavour to gain this authority in the minds of their Auditory. And the ſame Goſpel that forbids vanity and oſtentation, commands that our good Works ſhine with intention, that others ſeeing our good Works, may glorifie, &c. Sic luceat lux vestra coram hominibus, ut videant opera veſtra bona. This neceſſity has prevail'd ſome time upon the moſt Modeſt to aſſert their own praiſes, and vindicate their Reputations, when otherwiſe their natural modeſty and meekneſs would rather have inclin'd them to ſit down, and be content with the Injuries they received. A good life is the mark that [Page] Chriſt himſelf has given to diſcriminate betwixt the Preachers of Truth, and thoſe who are ſent by the Spirit of Error to delude and deceive us.

W [...] are much pleas'd to ſpare our ſelves the pains of examining an Argument, and therefore we truſt it to the examination of ſome credible perſon: Auctoritati credere, magnum compendium, & nullus labor. The authority of a good, a learned, and an eminent man, is a great eaſe and ſatisfaction to any man that is diffident of his own parts. No man would willingly be deceived, yet few are able to protect themſelves againſt Error; and therefore we are much pleas'd when we meet a man upon whoſe authority we may depend in all matters of diſpute. We ſee many times two or three Great Men (whoſe Reputations for Learning have gain'd them univerſal eſteem) dividing the whole World, whilſt every one ranks himſelf on his ſide whom he believes the moſt Learned and Honeſt. An Orator without that authority, gains but few to his Opinion, becauſe few are able [Page] to perceive the ſubtilty of his Arguments. If he would win upon the multitude, he muſt convince them that he has thoſe of his ſide, for whom the Multitude has a great reverence and eſteem.

Nothing goes farther to the gaining a man, than marks and expreſſions of Friendſhip: Friendſhip gives us a right to the perſon belov'd. We may ſay any thing if the perſon to whom we ſpeak be convinc'd that we love him. Ama, & dic quod vis. Our love for truth muſt be diſintereſted and entire to receive it from the mouth of an Enemy. 'Tis not to be imagin'd an Enemy would be ſo kind as to inform us of the truth. St. Paul's Epiſtles are full of expreſſions of Affection and Tenderneſs for thoſe to whom he writes; and he never reprehends them for their Faults, till he has convinced them it was his zeal for their Salvation that prompted him to thoſe Advertiſements.

The Fourth Quality (which as I conceive is abſolutely neceſſary in an Orator) is modeſty. Many times our [Page] obſtinacy and averſion to the truth, is cauſed only by the fierceneſs and arrogance wherewith an Orator would force from our own mouths an acknowledgment of our Ignorance. Why do we wrangle and quarrel in our diſputes, and refuſe to admit the moſt indiſputable truths? It is becauſe one ſide is impatient to triumph, and the other as obſtinate to adhere and contend for a Victory that would be ſo diſhonourable to loſe. Thoſe who are diſcreet ſuffer the eagerneſs of the Adverſary to cool, and with ſuch art conceal their triumph, that the vanquiſh'd perſon is ſcarce ſenſible of his defeat, but rather thinks himſelf victorious over that error to which before he was a ſlave. A prudent Orator is never to ſpeak advantageouſly of himſelf. Nothing ſo certainly alienates the minds of his Auditors, and inflames them with ſentiments of hatred and diſdain, as the vanity of ſelf-applauſe. Honour and Reputation is a thing to which every man pretends, and no man will ſuffer another to ingroſs it: For as Quintilian well obſerves, [Page] we have all a principle of Ambition that will endure nothing above us. Hence it is that we love to advance thoſe who debaſe themſelves, becauſe by advancing them we ſeem to be greater than they. Habet enim mens noſtra ſublime quiddam, & impatiens ſuperioris; ideo (que) abjectos, & ſubmittentes ſe, lubenter allevamus, quia hoc facere tanquam Majores videmus. Yet this modeſty ought not to be timerous and mean; Firmneſs and Generoſity are inſeparable from our Orators zeal in defence of the truth, which being invincible, he ought never to deſert it. That man renders himſelf terrible, who fears nothing more than to injure the truth; ſo that it is not unbecoming if ſometimes he exalts the advantages of his own ſide, which is the ſide of truth. To this may be added, that a diſcourſe muſt be ſuitable to the quality of the Speaker: A King muſt ſpeak with Majeſty, and that which is the ſign of lawful Authority in him, in a private perſon would be a ſign of Inſolence and Pride.

III.
What is to be obſerved in the things of which we Speak; and how we are to inſinuate into the minds of our Auditors.

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HAving ſpoken of our Orators Perſon, let us now ſee what relates to the things of which he treats. If the Auditors be not concern'd, and what he ſays touches not too near upon their Intereſt, Artifice is not neceſſary. When we are only to prove that the three Angles of a Triangle are equal to two right Angles, there is no need of Art to diſpoſe our hearers to believe us. Where there is no danger of prejudice to the Hearer, there is no fear of Oppoſition to the Speaker; but when things are propos'd contrary to the intereſt or inclination of the Hearer, then is addreſs moſt neceſſary: There is no way to inſinuate with him but by ambages, and fetches ſo cunningly introduc'd, that he is not to [Page] perceive the truth to which we would perſwade him, till he be throughly convinced, otherwiſe his ears wil be ſhut, and the Orator reckon'd an Enemy.

Men are acted only by Intereſt, even when they ſeem to diſclaim it; we are oblig'd to demonſtrate that the thing we would perſwade, is not for their diſadvantage. We muſt oppoſe Inclination againſt Inclination, and to draw them to our Sentiment, ſerve them as Mariners do a contrary wind when they make uſe of it to carry them to a contrary Port. This will be better underſtood by an Example. To poſſeſs a Woman againſt Painting who loves nothing but her ſelf, and conſiders nothing but her Beauty, if you will follow the advice of Saint Chryſostom, we muſt pretend care of her Beauty, to moderate her paſſion for it; and this is to be done by ſhowing that Ceruſe and Paint are prejudicial to the Face.

A Debauched man who denys himſelf nothing of pleaſure is taken off by propoſing other pleaſures more [Page] ſweet, or by convincing him thoſe pleaſures will be attended with very great pains; we muſt connive at ſelf-love, and propoſe ſomething of Equivalence to the man whom we would perſwade from his intereſt; for unleſs the Grace of God changes the heart, the Paſſions may change the Object, and themſelves continue the ſame. This changing of the Object is not difficult: A proud man will do any thing you would have him to ſatisfie his Pride, and avoid being undervalued; ſo that there is nothing to which a man may not be perſwaded, if we know his Inclinations, and how to make uſe of them.

When we expect to obtain from thoſe to whom we ſpeak a thing that they have no intention to grant, though perhaps reaſon requires it, we muſt be content to receive it as a favour. This demand is not to be made abruptly, but with circumſtance; and after we have clearly prov'd that there will remain more of Honour and advantage to them by granting, than by refuſing it. Chryſoſtom commends [Page] the prudence of Flavianus Patriarch of Antioch, who caus'd the Emperor Theodoſius to repeal his bloody decree againſt the Inhabitants of that City for having pull'd down the Statues of of the Empereſs. The Patriarch being come to Conſtantinople on purpoſe to mollifie the Emperor, aggravated the fault of the Antiochians; confeſs'd them worthy of the higheſt chaſtiſements: but at length he inſinuated, that the greatneſs of their offence would make their pardon more gloririous, and that a Chriſtian Prince could not (with conſiſtence) revenge an injury with ſo much ſeverity. By this means he wrought upon Theodoſius, who would have rather been exaſperated, had he gone about to mitigate their crime: beſides it would have appear'd as if he had approv'd their Inſolence, and been an Accomplice in their Sedition.

It is great advantage to an Orator, when his Auditors believe him of their own perſwaſion; which is not impoſſible though he indeavours to diſſwade them. There is no Opinion [Page] whatever in which all things are either falſe or unreaſonable: Without offence to the truth, we may ſide at firſt with that Opinion which we deſign to ſubvert, by commending that in it which is true, and worthy commendations. For example, a Nation revolts from its lawful Soveraign, forces the power out of his hands, and divides it among ſeveral perſons deputed to Govern. Love of Liberty is reaſonable and juſt; ſo our Harangue is to begin with amplifications upon Liberty, and at length inſinuating into the people that Liberty is greater under a Monarchy, than under a Common-wealth, (where the Tyranny is exerciſed by a greater number) we gain the point, and make uſe of the ſame paſſion that provok'd them to revolt, to reduce them to Obedience.

With the ſame method of prudence we diſintangle people from thoſe for whom they have an unreaſonable love, againſt whom great care is to be taken that we fall not into a blunt and immediate declamation. 'Tis true, O [Page]Romans, never was man more bountiful and munificent than Spurius Milus; he ſpent freely, preſented liberally, and to oblige you was very profuſe in his expences; But have a care he be not ambitious: that his Largeſſes be not ſnares, and his Preſents the price of your liberty.

Humility is the beſt of Virtues; it is the companion of Innocence, and ſeldom to be found in a Criminal. Criminals cannot endure to be reproach'd by their faults, and therefore 'tis no eaſy matter to gain thoſe whom we deſire to correct. Nevertheleſs when a vicious man is effectually perſwaded that his crime is pernicious; that love to his Intereſt is the cauſe of his reprehenſion: when he knows the Speaker to be wiſer, and capable of perceiving the Conſequences of his ill ways better than himſelf, he ſuffers his admonition patiently, as a man in a Gangreen ſuffers the amputation of the part.

That which makes admonition many times ineffectual, is the inſolence and imperiouſneſs wherewith it is delivered. [Page] When we would correct a guilty perſon, and hope to reclaim him, it is enough that we diſplay before him modeſtly what was his duty to have done, without upbraiding him by what he has actually done. Some things are not ill in themſelves, but for want of ſome circumſtance: Such things may be commended, but we muſt make it appear they were not done with due circumſtances of place and of time.

That a Criminal may not be diſcouraged and aſhamed to acknowledg his Offence, it is not amiſs to leſſen and extenuate his Crime by comparing it with a greater; For fear he ſhould obſtinately perſiſt and juſtify what he has done, ſome way is to be found out to eaſe him of his load: Some people are ſo refractory they will never condemn what once they have done. We muſt ſeparate betwixt the crime and the perſon, and take no notice that the Offender was guilty, till we have brought him in to condemn his own Crime. This was the Prophet Nathan's Method with [Page] King David, when he deſired to reprehend him for the Adultery he had committed; he complained to him againſt another perſon that was guilty of the ſame Crime; and when King David had paſs'd his judgment upon the man, then Nathan took his opportunity, and admoniſhed him that his Majeſty himſelf was the Original, and that he himſelf had committed that ſin which his own mouth had condemn'd.

IV.
The Qualities that we have ſhow'd to be neceſſary in an Orator, ought not to be counterfeit.

I Do not doubt very ill uſe may be made of this Art, but that hinders not our Rules from being good. One may pretend love for his Hearers, to conceal ſome ill deſign that his hatred has prompted him to meditate againſt them: One may put on the face of an Honeſt man, only to delude thoſe who have a reverence [Page] for the leaſt appearance of truth; yet it follows not but we may profeſs love to our Auditors, and inſinuate into their affections, when our love is ſincere, and we have no deſign but the intereſt and propagation of truth.

Pagan Rhetoricians have given the ſame precepts as we have done, and Sophiſters have made uſe of them, which obliges us to ſtricter and more careful application. A wicked man is not to be more zealous for Error, than a Chriſtian for Truth: It would be a ſhame that Chriſtians ſhould neglect their natural means for propagation of the truth, whilſt wicked men are ſo buſie and induſtrious to deceive. Theſe ways are good and juſt in themſelves, and every man that has prudence and charity makes uſe of them inſenſibly.

How wicked ſoever men be, it is our duty to love them; we muſt have compaſſion for their perſons, and deteſt only their Crimes. Diligite homines, interficite errores. Thoſe who are really pious, have no need to [Page] counterfeit; their charity ſhows it ſelf quite through their diſcourſe; they pitty the faults of other men, and bear with them patiently: They correct them gently, and reflect upon them only on that ſide in which they are moſt venial. Monitio acerbitate, objurgatio contumelia careat, ſays Cicero. Piety finds out ways not to diſguſt, not to afflict the perſons to be reprehended; Piety moderates correction, and with honey-words ſweetens the bitterneſs of her diſcipline: In a word, piety does for God whatever ſelf-love and intereſt does for man: So that the outward conduct of the one, appears the ſame with the outward conduct of the other, their manners of acting being diſtinguiſhed only by their principles. A good Chriſtian has no leſs Complaiſance for thoſe whom he would perſwade, without any deſign but propagation of the truth, than a worldling has for thoſe from whom he looks for a recompence.

When I ſayd we were not to diſguſt our Auditors, I did not adviſe that [Page] we ſhould uſe only a ſlight complaiſance proceeding from a vain ſatisfaction we take in not being repuls'd; Men love thoſe things that entertain them with delight, Loquere nobis placenta: It is the buſineſs of a flatterer to entertain people of that delicate humour. While a Chriſtian Preacher has hopes of gaining upon his Auditors by gentleneſs, 'tis his duty to uſe it; but when they are hardned, and will not lay down thoſe arms which they have taken up againſt truth, it would not be charity, but flattery to indulge them: When prayers avail nothing, our recourſe muſt be to menace.

The conduct uſed always by the Fathers, was to begin mildly; but if that mildneſs was ineffectual, to conclude with ſeverity. St. Auſtin tells us, that in his firſt Books wrot againſt Pelagius, he would not mention his Name, that he might not leave him upon Record for the author of a Heſie: But when he found the Heretick inſenſible of that Gentleneſs, and that it did but contribute to the making [Page] him worſe, he thought the ſame charity that had prompted him to mildneſs at firſt, oblig'd him then to remedies more violent, and proportionable to the diſtemper of that Heretick; conſidering that if they did not cure him, they would at leaſt give alarm to the people, and let them know the danger of his communication.

CHAP. III.

I.
It is lawful to excite in thoſe to whom we Speak, ſuch paſſions as may conduct them according to our deſigns.

THe third Means an Orator is to uſe, is the art of exciting ſuch paſſions in the minds of his auditory as may bend and incline them to what ſide he pleaſes. He is likewiſe to ſtudy the ſecret of extinguiſhing ſuch heats as may divert the ears or affections of his auditors. But it will be Objected, [Page] That 'tis unlawful to uſe ſo unjuſt means as the paſſions. That 'tis but ill practice to regulate and clear the mind of an auditor, to raiſe fumes of paſſion which will rather choak and obfuſcate it. We will reply to this Objection, as a thing worthy to be conſidered.

Paſſions are good in themſelves; 'tis extravagance that makes them faulty. There are motions of the Soul which incline it to good, and divert it from evil: which puſh it on to the acquiſition of the one; and prick it forward when it is too dull and lazy to eſcape from the other. Thus far there is no evil in paſſion; but when men follow their falſe Idea's of Good and Evil, and love nothing but the World, the Paſſions which were good in their nature, become bad by contagion of the object upon which they are turn'd. Who can doubt but our Paſſions are bad, when in the Idea of the word Paſſion we comprehend the motions of the Sould with all its irregularities. If by Choller we intend the Rages, the Raptures, [Page] the Tranſports that trouble our Reaſon it muſt be confefs'd that Choller is an ill thing: But if we take it for a motion or affection of the Soul, that animates againſt the impediments which retard us in the poſſeſſion of any good; If we take it for a certain force or power inabling us to contend and conquer ſuch evils; I cannot ſee how any man can reaſonably think it lawful to excite that Choller, and make uſe of its efficacy to incourage his auditors in queſt of that Good which he propoſes to them.

In our moſt exorbitant paſſions; in thoſe whoſe objects ſeem nothing but falſe and pretended good; there is always ſomething that is really good. Is it not a good thing to love him that is handſom, great, magnificent, or noble? We may then make uſe of a motion that carries on towards beauty and grandeur, and by ſo doing puts us in action. We may without the leaſt ſcruple awaken this motion in the mind of our auditory by diſplaying the grandeur and beauty of the thing to which we perſwade them, [Page] becauſe it is ſuppos'd we will recommend nothing▪ but what is worthily great, and what is really beautiful.

Men are not to be acted, but by motion of their paſſions: Every man is carry'd away by what he loves, and follows that which gives him moſt pleaſure: For which reaſon there is no other natural way of prevailing upon men, than this we have propos'd. You ſhall never divert a Covetous man from his avarice, and immoderate inclination to money, but by giving him hopes of other Riches of more prodigious value. You ſhall never perſwades a Voluptuous man from his pleaſures, but by the fear of ſome impending diſeaſe, or hopes of ſome greater delight. Whilſt we are without paſſion, we are without action; and nothing moves us from this indifference, but the agitation of ſome paſſion. The paſſions may be call'd the Springs of the Mind; when an Orator knows how to poſſeſs himſelf of theſe Springs, and how to manage them wiſely▪ nothing is hard to him, [Page] there is nothing but he can perſwade.

Chriſtians will confeſs that ſo many illuſtrious Martyrs have triumphed over death, and tortures, only by the ſupport they received from Heaven: that ſo many Nuns and Holy Virgins have ſuſtain'd with their weak bodies a life full of auſterities, and as it were worn out with ſtrictneſs of penance, only by aſſiſtance of the Divine Grace: But it is clear the moſt wicked are capable of the ſame actions, and can do what-ever was done either by the Holy Virgins or Martyrs, if it falls out that they cannot ſatisfie their predominant Paſſion, but by ſuffering thoſe pains. Catiline was a very ill man, yet in his Life we may obſerve examples of extraordinary auſterity and patience; but his pretended Virtue was only ſubſervient to his ambition: So I make this reflexion only to prove that a man is wholly in our power, when we are able to ſtir in him ſuch Paſſions as are proper for our deſign: and therefore a propugner of the truth is not to [Page] neglect ſo efficacious a means.

Saint Auſtin advis'd the Sinner very well, when he bid him do that for fear of puniſhment which he would not do for love of juſtice: Fac timore paenae, quod nondum potes amore juſtitiae. It would not be difficult to make a painted Dame abhor paint, by convincing her that it is an enemy to the face: the fear of that would poſſibly affright her from it ſooner than the love of God. This fear is not without ſin: But at length the Fathers approv'd this holy artifice, by the uſe they made of it. Great confuſions muſt be open'd; an Impoſtume muſt be cured by Inciſion: This practice may eaſily be juſtifi'd, but this is not a convenient place.

II.
What is to be done to excite the Paſſions.

THe common way of affecting the heart of Man, is to give him a [Page] lively ſenſe and impreſſion of the object of that paſſion wherewith we deſire he ſhould be mov'd. Love is an affection excited in the Soul by the ſight of a preſent good. To kindle this affection in a heart capable of loving, we muſt preſent him with an object of amiable qualities. Fear has for its object not only certain evil, but evil contingent. To fright a timerous perſon, we need no more than to make him ſenſible of the Evils that threaten him. It is not without reaſon that the arts of perſwading and well-ſpeaking are not ſeparated; for the one ſerves for little without the other. To ſtir and affect the Soul of a man, it ſuffices not to give him a bare repreſentation of the object of that paſſion wherewith we would animate him; we muſt diſplay all the riches of our Eloquence to give him an ample and ſenſible delineation that may ſtrike it home, and leave an impreſſion, not like thoſe phantaſms that ſlide by ſuddenly before our eyes, and are ſeen no more. To diſpoſe a man to Love it is not ſufficient to tell him bluntly [Page] the thing we propoſe is amiable; we muſt convince him of its good qualities, make him ſenſible of them by frequent and effectual deſcriptions; we muſt repreſent them with all their faces, that if they prevail not by their appearances on one ſide, they may not fail by being diſplay'd on the other: We muſt animate our ſelves, and (if I may ſo ſay) kindle a flame in our hearts, that it may be like a hot Furnace from whence our words may proceed full of that fire which we would kindle in the hearts of other people.

To treat exactly of this Subject, I ſhould be oblig'd to ſpeak at large of the nature of paſſions, to explain them every one particularly; to tell what are their ſeveral Objects, what raiſes, and what aſſwages them: But this would be to ſtuff into this art both Natural and Moral Philoſophy, which cannot be done without confuſion. Nevertheleſs I cannot excuſe my ſelf from ſpeaking more exactly of ſome of the Paſſions, that is to ſay, of Admiration; Eſteem; Contempt; and [Page] Laughter, which are of great uſe in the Art of Perſwaſion.

Admiration is a motion of the Mind, that converts it upon ſome extraordinary Object, and inclines it to conſider whether the ſaid Object be good or bad, that it may either purſue, or avoid it. It is of Importance to an Orator to excite this Paſſion in the mind of his Auditory. Truth perſwades, but firſt it muſt be known; and that it may be known, it is neceſſary he to whom we declare it, applys himſelf to underſtand it. We ſee every day many Arguments rejected, that are afterwards approv'd, becauſe at that time we were not at leiſure to examine them. There are ſeveral Opinions that after they have been neglected, and ly'n dormant ſeveral Ages, have reviv'd again, and made a noiſe in the World, becauſe they are ſtudyed, and by ſtudying it is that we know the truth or falſity of them.

'Tis not enough therefore to produce good arguments, to deliver them with clearneſs and perſpicuity; but we muſt uſe them with extraordinary [Page] addreſs, that may ſurprize the hearer, make him admire and draw the eyes of the whole world upon us. I have read in a certain Author, of a witty Man who having often preſented himſelf before his Prince about ſome affair that concern'd him very much, the Prince never vouchſafing him ſo much as a look; he reſolved the next time to preſent himſelf naked, cover'd only with ſome few Figg-leaves. And it ſucceeded as he deſign'd; for the oddneſs of his habit having ſtir'd the curioſity of the Prince, and carry'd him to him to inquire who he was, he took occaſion to make anſwer, and by degrees found opportunity to propoſe that to him, which before he had attempted in vain.

Saint Chryſostome obſerves that Saint Matthew begins his Hiſtory of our Saviour by ſaying he was the Son of David, and of Abraham, (whereas he ſhould have ſayd Abraham and David▪) to oblige the Jews to read his Hiſtory with more attention; for the Jews expected the Meſſiah from the Line of David: and therefore [Page] nothing was more like to win upon their attention, than to ſpeak to them of a Son of David. All Books that are read, all Orators that are heard, have ſomething or other extraordinary, either in the matter or manner of what they treat, or in the circumſtance of time and of place.

Admiration is follow'd by eſteem, or contempt. When we obſerve any thing good in the Object on which we look with Application, we eſteem it, we deſire it, we love it. For this reaſon, as you ſee, we eſteem nothing properly, but what is true, what is great, and what is handſome. When we value ill things, it is either becauſe we are deceiv'd in our judgments, or becauſe we conſider them only according to appearance. A deceitful Orator perſwades only for a time, and the eſteem and love of his Auditors, turns into hatred and contempt, as ſoon as they find themſelves deluded.

The Object of Contempt is meanneſs and error; that Paſſion is never excited but when the Soul perceives [Page] nothing in its Object, but meanneſs and error. To this Paſſion we do willingly incline; it is pleaſing, and flatters the ambition that men have naturally for ſuperiority and grandeur. We do not properly contemn any but thoſe who we look upon as Inferiors. We look down upon them with divertiſement, whereas it is troubleſom to lift up our eyes in contemplation of what is above us. Other Paſſions ſpend and diſturb us, but this refreſhes, and is uſeful to our health; and indeed this paſſion may be call'd rather the repoſe than commotion of the Soul, becauſe the Soul ſeems quiet and at eaſe in this paſſion, though in others it labours and is diſturb'd.

Yet all contempt is not pleaſing, for if the evil that is its object be dreadful, it affects us with fear, which is really an affliction; but where the Evil touches us not too near, and concerns us not too much, the contempt that follows is accompanyed with laughter, and ſo commonly accompany'd with great and unexpected joy. There is no way ſo effectual for the [Page] turning a man from an Error, as to make it appear contemptible. There is nothing we apprehend more, than to be rendred ridiculous and contemptible to the world. Therefore a ſeaſonable peice of Rallery has ſometimes better effect than the ſolideſt Argument.

—Ridiculum acri,

Fortius & melius magnas plerum (que) ſecat res.

When we fight with ſtrong Reaſons, the trouble the adverſary finds to conceive the conſequence of a ſolid Argument, confounds him: When we propoſe to him any thing that is high, that height dazles and diſcourages him. But when his buſineſs is only to laugh and be merry, he applys himſelf readily, that application gives him entertainment; and his contempt of the thing that is repreſented as ridiculous, flatters his vanity, and makes him look down upon the object as a thing infinitely beneath him. For this reaſon we eaſily [Page] excite this contempt, becauſe men are more prone to it naturally than to eſteem, as they are to ſports rather than to work. To this may be added, that ſeveral things are fit to be laught at, for fear we ſhould give them weight and reputation by confuting them ſoberly.

III.
How things worthy to be laught at are to be made ridiculous.

SInce it is allow'd us to ſtir and provoke the Paſſions, thereby to excite men to action, the art which we teach of turning things into ridicule is not to be blam'd, eſpecially when by ſo doing our deſign is only to reclaim and inſtruct our auditors; but then if theſe Ralleries be not done with diſcretion, they will have a quite contrary effect. The Poets in their Comedy's pretend to mock people out of their Vices; yet their pretenſions are vain, experience making [Page] too evident that a Reader of this ſort of Plays, never made any ſerious converſion. The cauſe is plain, we deſpiſe and laugh at only ſuch things as we think below us, and ſuch as are but trifles in our eſtimation. We laugh not at the ill treatment of the Innocent: If Licentious perſons make a mock of Adultery, and ſuch Offences as will force tears from a pious man, 'tis becauſe they have not a true notion of thoſe Crimes, and conſider them amiſs.

Poets in their Comaedies labour not to give an averſion for Vice, their buſineſs is only to make it ridiculous; ſo they accuſtom their Readers to look upon Debauches as inconſiderable Offences. From a Play we ſhall never receive that horrour that is neceſſary to deter our Concupiſence; the fear of being laugh'd at will never diſcourage our inclinations to pleaſure: and we ſee Debauched perſons are the firſt will laugh at their own extravagancies. There are Vices to be ſuppreſs'd only by oblivion and ſilence, of which modeſty and good-breeding [Page] will not permit us to ſpeak. The deſcriptions of an Adulterer never made any man chaſt, and yet thoſe ſort of Crimes are generally the ſubject of Comedy's.

The Orator is likewiſe to keep his Decorum, and omit in his Ralleries ſuch things as modeſty recommends rather to our ſilence. If we be prudent and honeſt, there will be no need of advertiſing that we are carefully to avoid unſeaſonable & ridiculous buffonory's; and to conſider that nothing but ill things are fit to be derided: If the Evil we would deſcribe be pernicious and great, we are rather to render it horrid and deteſtable. Nevertheleſs in declaiming againſt great offences, we may begin with Ralleries, if it be but to draw attention from the hearers, which indeed is the chief end of thoſe things, and that which obliges me to ſet down ſome Rules how we are to turn things of that nature into Ridicule.

Laughter being a motion excited in the Soul, when after it has been ſtruck with the ſight of an extraordinary obobject, [Page] ſhe perceives it very little; to render a thing ridiculous we muſt find out ſome rare and extraordinary way of repreſenting its vileneſs. No particular Precepts can be given for Ralleries. Thoſe, ſays Cicero, who would give directions for the laughing at other people, would be laugh'd at themſelves. And yet all tricks and extraordinary ways are proper, and may be uſed upon that occaſion, that is▪ to diſcover the meanneſs of that object we would render contemptible. Wherefore the Ironia is of great uſe in theſe caſes; For ſpeaking quite contrary to our thoughts in terms extraordinary and inconvenient with the thing of which we ſpeak, this diſpoſition makes us obſerve it more effectually. When we call a Raſcal Honeſt man, that expreſſion remembers us that he is quite another thing. We cannot better convince a man he is a Coward, than by putting into his hands a Sword that he has not courage to uſe in his defence. So Iſaiah droll'd with the Prophets of Samaria, when with great yells and cryes [Page] they beg'd of their Idol, that it would ſend down fire from Heaven to conſume their Sacrifice. Iſaiah told them, You muſt cry louder, perhaps your God does not hear you; it may be he is in diſcourſe with other people; it may be he is at home; it may be he is upon the Road; it may be aſleep, and cannot be awaked but by more than ordinary noiſe. And this way of ſpeaking of this Idol being unuſual, made it appear impotent and mean.

Alluſions are likewiſe proper for Ralleries, becauſe the difficulty of underſtanding them makes us apply more ſeriouſly to the finding out the ſence, and that application cauſes us to diſcover it more clearly. So alſo when we have applauded a thing that we intend ſhould be ridiculous, and have advanced it by magnificent expreſſions that raiſe an expectation of ſome great matter, if on a ſudden we diſcover its meanneſs, it is manifeſt the ſurprize makes the hearer attentive, and by conſequence more ſenſible of what is ſayd.

If we lay a thing open, and leave it [Page] quite naked, by diveſting it of all ſuch qualities as may recommend it to our eſteem, we make that thing infallibly ridiculous. Lucian relates nothing of the Gods, and the Sages of Greece, but what the Adorers of the one, and the admirers of the other, have publiſh'd in their Panegyricks: Yet Lucian in his Writings renders them Ridiculous, becauſe he diveſts the Gods of the Gentiles, and the Wiſe-men of Greece, of thoſe imaginary qualities which the Antients admired in both▪ wherefore we cannot read his Books without conceiving a contempt for the Religion and vain wiſdom of the Greeks. Beſides, the very nature of Dialogues (which is Lucian's way of writing) is very proper to diſcover the Vileneſs of any thing we would abuſe: by making every one ſpeak according to the principles he follows, thereby we make them their own Informers, and publiſh what-ever in them is either ridiculous or mean.

CHAP. IV.

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I.
The Diſpoſition and Parts of which a Diſcourſe is to be compos'd. Of the Exordium.

EFfectually to Perſwade, we muſt firſt diſpoſe our Auditors to a favourable attention of what we have to ſay. Next we are to give them intimation of our buſineſs, that they may have ſome notion of what we are about. It is not enough to aſſert and produce proofs of our own, but we muſt refel the arguments of our Adverſary: When a Diſcourſe has been long, and 'tis to be fear'd part of what has been ſayd at large, may have eſcaped the memory of the hearer, 'tis convenient at the end of our Harangue in few words to ſum up what has been deliver'd at length. So a Diſcourſe [Page] is properly to conſiſt of five parts, the entrance, or exordium; the Narration or Propoſition of the thing of which we ſpeak; the Proof in confirmation of what we affirm; the Refutation of what is alledged by the adverſary, in oppoſition; and the Epilogue, or recapitulation of all that has paſs'd through the whole Body of the Diſcourſe. I ſhall ſpeak of theſe five parts diſtinctly.

An Orator in his Exordium is to reſpect three things, the favour, the attention, and the capacity of his hearers. We gain much upon our auditors, and inſinuate ſtrangely into their favour, when at the entrance into our Diſcourſe we aſſure them that what we ſpeak is out of our ſincere zeal to the truth, and for advantage of the Publick: We work upon their attention when we begin with what is moſt Noble and moſt Illuſtrious in the Subject of which we ſpeak, and what is moſt likely to excite a deſire of hearing the reſt of our Diſcourſe.

A Hearer is ſuſceptible when he loves, and liſtens to what we ſay. [Page] Love opens his mind, and clearing it from all prae-occupations with which we hearken to an adverſary, ſhe diſpoſes it for the reception of the truth. Attention makes him penetrate the moſt obſcure things: There is nothing lyes ſo cloſe, but will be diſcover'd to a diligent and aſſiduous man, who makes it his buſineſs to inquire into ſuch things as he is ambitious to know.

I have ſay'd before, that 'tis good at firſt to ſurprize our auditors with ſomething that is lofty and noble; but we are likewiſe to be careful that we promiſe no more than we are able to perform; and that after we have ſoar'd and mounted up to the Clouds, we be not forc'd to come down, and crawl upon the ground. An Orator beginning too high, raiſes in the hearts of his Hearers a certain Jealouſie that diſpoſes them to criticize, and gives them a deſign not to excuſe him, if he flaggs in his Tone. Modeſty is better at firſt, and gains more upon an auditory.

II.
PROPOSITION.

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SOmetimes we begin our Diſcourſe by propoſing the Subject of it without an Exordium, which is to be done ſo as the juſtice of the cauſe we defend may appear in the ſaid Propoſition that conſiſts only in the declaration of what we are to ſay, and by conſequence admits no Rules for its length. When we are to ſpeak only of a queſtion, it ſuffices to propoſe it, and that requires but few words: When we are to ſpeak of an action, or rhing done, we are to recite the whole action, report all its circumſtances, and make a deſcription of it, that may lay it before the eyes of the Judges, and enable them to determine as exactly as if they had been preſent when the action was done.

Some there are who to make an action appear as they would have it▪ [Page] do not ſcruple to cloth it with circumſtances favourable to their deſigns, though contrary to the truth; and they fancy they may do it, becauſe their pretence is to advance the truth, by augmenting the goodneſs of their Cauſe. It is not neceſſary I ſhould confute the falſeneſs of this perſwaſion; for 'tis clear, that if it be contradictory to truth, we make uſe of a lye; it is an ill thing, becauſe we deviat from the end of Speech, which was given us to expreſs the truth of our Sentiments, though againſt truth it ſelf; and when we equivocate for truth, we do that which is diſpleaſing to her, becauſe ſhe needs not equivocation to defend her ſelf.

We ought therefore to deliver things ſimply as they are, and be cautious of inſerting any thing that may diſpoſe the Judges to give wrong Judgment. There is no affair but has ſeveral faces, ſome agreeable that pleaſe, others diſagreeable that diſcourage and diſguſt our hearers. It is the part of a skilful Orator to propoſe nothing that may beget in the hearer a diſadvantagious [Page] opinion of what is to follow.

An Orator is to ſelect the circumſtances of the action he propoſes, and not inlarge equally upon them all. Some are to be paſs'd in ſilence, others to be touch'd by the by. When we are to be oblig'd to report an ill circumſtance, that may diſcommend the action we would defend, we are not to paſs it over and proceed, till we have apply'd ſome remedy to the evil impreſſion that recitation may make, for we muſt not leave our auditors in any ill opinion that they may conceive thereupon. We muſt ſubjoyn ſome reaſon or circumſtance to change the face of the former, and preſent in leſs odious. You muſt relate the particulars of his death who was kill'd, to juſtify the perſon you would defend: Being to ſpeak only in the behalf of an innocent perſon, at the ſame time when you relate the manner of the others death, you muſt add the juſt cauſes of his death, and make it appear that he who kill'd him, did it by misfortune, or accident, without any [Page] deſign. We muſt therefore prae-occupy the mind of the Judges, and prepare them with all the reaſons, occaſions, and circumſtances that may juſtify the action, that when it is related, they may be diſpos'd to examine it, and confeſs that there was only an appearance of Crime; and that in effect it was juſt, becauſe accompanyed with all the Circumſtances that render ſuch▪ actions innocent. This Artifice is not only lawful, but it would be a fault to omit it. We muſt have a care of rendring verity odious by our imprudence; and certainly it would be great imprudence to deliver things in ſuch manner as may diſpoſe our hearers to give raſh judgment. Men do take their impreſſions immediatly, and purſue their firſt judgments, and therefore it is of importance to prevent them.

Rhetoricians require three things in a Narration; that it be ſhort, clear, and probable. It is ſhort, when we ſay all that is neceſſary, and nothing more. We are not to judg of the brevity of a Narration by the number of [Page] words, but by the exactneſs in ſaying nothing ſuperfluous. Clearneſs follows this exactneſs; impertinences do but ſtuff up a Hiſtory, and hinder the action from being exactly repreſented to the mind. It is not hard for a good Orator to make what he ſays probable, becauſe nothing is ſo like the truth that he defends, as truth it ſelf; and yet for this ſome Cunning is requir'd, ſome Circumſtances are of that nature, that deliver'd nakedly and alone, they would become ſuſpected, and would not be believ'd unleſs back'd and ſuſtain'd by other circumſtances: Wherefore to make a Narration appear true (as it is in effect) thoſe Circumſtances are not to be forgot.

III.
Of Confirmation or Eſtabliſhment of Proofs, and of Refutation.

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THe Rules we are to follow to eſtabliſh by ſolid Argument the truth we would defend, and to ſubvert the fallacy oppos'd to that truth, belong properly to Logick, from thence it is we are to learn to argue. Yet here we may give ſome Rules.

Firſt we are to conſider the Subject upon which we are to ſpeak; we are to mind and obſerve all its parts, that we may find out what courſe we are to ſtere for the diſcovery either of the truth, or the fallacy. This Rule is not to be practis'd but by thoſe who have great latitude of underſtanding; by thoſe who are exerciſed in the ſolution of Problems, and in penetrating the moſt occult things; by thoſe who are ſo well vers'd in affairs of that nature, that as ſoon as a difficulty is propos'd to them, though never ſo intricat, [Page] they can immediatly find out the knot, and having their minds full of light and of truth, diſcover without trouble the inconteſtable Principles to prove the conceal'd verity of things, and to convince thoſe of fallacy that are falſe.

The Second Rule reſpects the clearneſs of the Principles upon which we ground our Argument. The ſource of all falſe Arguments that are uſed by men, is our eaſy and raſh ſuppoſition that things doubtful are true. We ſuffer our ſelves to be dazled by a falſe luſtre that we perceive not, till we find we are precipitated in great abſurdities, and oblig'd to conſent to Propoſitions evidently falſe.

The Third Rule reſpects the Connexion of Principles examin'd with the Conſequences drawn from them. In an exact Argument the Principles and the Conſequences are joyn'd ſo ſtrictly, that having granted the Principles, we are oblig'd to conſent to the Conſequence, becauſe the Principles and the Conſequence are the ſame thing; ſo what we cannot reaſonaby [Page] deny in the one what we have confeſs'd in the other. If I grant it lawful to repel force by force, and to take away the life of my Enemy, when I find no other means of preſerving my own; when it is prov'd to me that Milo in killing Clodius, did but repel force by force, I am oblig'd to acknowledg that Milo is innocent; becauſe in effect allowing the Propoſition, That it is lawful to repel one force by another, I confeſs that Milo is innocent of the death of Clodius, who would have taken away the life Milo. The Connexion betwixt that Principle and that Conſequence being manifeſtly clear.

There is great difference betwixt the argumentation of a Geometrician, and an Orator. Maxims in Geometry depend upon a ſmall number of Principles: The proofs of an Orator cannot be illuſtrated but by great number of Circumſtances that fortifie one another, and being ſeparated, would not be capable of convincing. In the moſt ſolid Arguments, there are always ſome difficulties that [Page] afford matter of Controverſy to thoſe who are obſtinate, and are not to be convinced but by multitude of words, and by clearing of all the difficulties and objections that may be made. An Orator is to imitate a Souldier fighting with his enemy. The Souldier is not ſatisfied with drawing his Sword, he ſtrikes, and watches to take the firſt advantage that is given: He moves up and down to avoid the inſults of his Enemy, and in a word aſſumes all the poſtures that Nature and practice have taught him for invaſion or defence. The Geometrician lays down his proofs, and that is ſufficient.

There are certain tricks and ways of propoſing an Argument, that are as effectual as the Argument it ſelf, which oblige the Hearer to attention; which make him perceive the ſtrength of a Reaſon; which augment its force; which diſpoſe the mind; prepare it to receive the truth; diſintangle it from its firſt Paſſions, and ſupply it with new. Thoſe who underſtand the Myſtery of Eloquence, do [Page] not demur or amuſe themſelves with throngs of Arguments; they make choice of one that is good, and manage it as follows. They do ſolidly lay down the Principle of their Argument; they make it as clear and perſpicuous as poſſible. They ſhow the connexion betwixt the Principle and Conſequence deduced from it, and deſire to demonſtrate it. They remove all obſtacles that may hinder the hearer from being perſwaded: They repeat their Reaſons ſo oft, that we cannot eſcape from its efficacy: They repreſent their deſign with ſo many faces, that we cannot but own it, and they work it ſo effectually into our minds, that at laſt it becomes abſolute Maſter.

The Precepts of common Rhetoricians touching Proofs, and Refutations, are not conſiderable: Rhetoricians adviſe us to place our ſtrongeſt Arguments in the Van and Front of our Diſcourſe; our weakeſt Arguments in the Battle, and keep ſome few of our beſt Arguments as Reſerves. The natural Order to be obſerv'd [Page] in the diſpoſition of Arguments; is to place them in ſuch ſort that they may ſerve as ſteps to an Auditory to arrive at the truth, and make among themſelves a kind of chain to ſtop thoſe whom we would reduce to the truth.

Refutation requires no peculiar Rules: When we are able to demonſtrate a truth, we can eaſily diſcover an Error, and make it appear. That which we have ſayd of the care an Orator ought to have to demonſtrate the force of his Principles, and their connexion with the Conſequences deduced, ought equally to be underſtood of the care we are to take to make the falſe Principles of our Adverſary remarkable; or if their Principles be true, to make their Conſequences appear falſe and unnatural.

IV.
Of the Epilogue, and other Parts in the Art of Perſwaſion.

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AN Orator who apprehends the things that he ſays, may ſlip from the memory of his Auditors, is oblig'd to repeat them before he gives over. 'Tis poſſible thoſe to whom he ſpeaks are diſtracted and perplex'd for ſome time; and the multitude of things that he has profer'd, has not had room in their minds. It is fit therefore that he repeats what he ſaid before, and contracts all into ſuch an abridgment as may not be burthenſom to the memory. Great number of words, amplifications, and repetitions are only for better explication of things, and to render them more perſpicuous. Wherefore after we have convinc'd our Auditors of the truth of our Propoſition, and made them underſtand it clearly▪ that the Conviction [Page] may be laſting; we muſt contrive that our Auditory may not looſe the memory of our Arguments. To do this, our abridgment and repetition mentioned before, ought to be made in a brisk way, but not ſo as to be troubleſome. We muſt at the ſame time awaken the motions that we have excited, and as I may ſo ſay, unbind the wounds that we made: But reading of Orators (among whom Cicero is excellent for Epilogues) will give you a better notion (than my words) of the addreſs and cunning to be us'd in ramaſing and contracting in the Epilogue, what in the body of our Diſcourſe was more large and difuſe.

I ſhall now finiſh this diſcourſe, in which my deſign was to give an Image or Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion. There ſtill remains for Explication three parts of this Art, Elocution, or the manner of diſpoſing our Matter; Memory and Pronunciation: Of Elocution I have writ a whole Treatiſe: Memory all the world knows is a gift of Nature, not to be improv'd [Page] by any thing but exerciſe; for which no Precepts need to be given: and Pronuuciation is of ſuch advantage to an Orator, that it deſerves to be treated on at large; for there is a Rhetorick in the eye, the motion and air of the Body, that perſwades as much as Arguments. When an Orator with this air begins his Harangue, we comply immediatly: Many Sermons well pronounc'd are well receiv'd, which ill pronounc'd would be deſpiſed. Men are generally content with the appearance of things. Thoſe who deliver themſelves with a firm and emphatical tone, and are graceful in their Mine, are ſure to prevail. Few perſons make uſe of their Reaſon; common recourſe is to the Senſe. We examine not what an Orator ſays, but judg of him by our eyes and our ears: If he ſatisfies their eyes, and pleaſes their ears, he ſhall be certain of the hearts of his auditory. The neceſſity of taking advantage of our weakneſs, obliges an Orator (if he be zealous for the truth) not to deſpiſe Pronunciation. We have certainly many defects; [Page] Poſtures that are indecent, ridiculous, affected, mean, and not to be ſuffer'd: There are likewiſe Imperfections in the Voice, that are tireſome and unpleaſant to the Ear. 'Tis not neceſſary that we particularize, every man daily obſerves them. Every Paſſion has its peculiar tone, its peculiar geſture, its peculiar Mine, which if good or bad, make a good or a bad Orator: If good, they contribute not a little to the conception of what we would perſwade, and the pains that we take to pronounce things well, will neither be vain nor unprofitable. But in Books or Writing it will be more vain. Rules for Pronunciation cannot be well taught, but by experience and practice.

FINIS.

THE TABLE OF CHAPTERS.

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The Firſt Part.

CHAP. I.

I. THe Organs of the Voice; how Speech is form'd. p. 1.

II. Before we Speak, we are to form a Scheme in our minds of what we are to ſay. p. 5.

III. To mark the difference of our Thoughts, there is need of Words of different Orders. p. 8.

IV. Of Noun Subſtantives, Adjectives, and Articles. p▪ 12.

V. How we can mark the references that things have among themſelves. p. 15.

CHAP. II.

I. Of the Nature of Verbs. p. 18.

II. Of Pronouns, and that we may with one ſingle Verb expreſs a whole Propoſition. p. 20.

III. Of the Tenſes of Verbs. p. 22.

IV. That Verbs have a power of ſignifying divers ways of affirming, and certain circumſtances of the action that they ſignify. p. 25.

V. What Words are neceſſary to denote the other Operations of our mind. p. 28.

VI. Conſtruction of Words, and Rules for that Construction. p. 31.

CHAP. III.

I. That we must expreſs all the principal Idea's or touches in the Picture that we have formed in our mind. p. 35.

II. What ought to be the order or diſpoſition of our words. p. 40.

[Page] III. How we may expreſs our Paſſions. p. 46.

CHAP. IV.

I. Cuſtom is the Maſter of Language. p. 50.

II. There is a good Cuſtom and a bad; three ways to diſtinguiſh them. p. 53.

III. Words are to be uſed only in their proper ſignification, and to expreſs the Idea to which cuſtom has annexed them. p. 60.

IV. We are to conſider whether the Idea's of words that are joyn'd, may be joyn'd alſo. p. 62.

V. It is choice of Expreſſion that makes a man elegant. p. 66.

The Second Part.

CHAP. I.

I. There is no Language ſo copious and rich to furniſh terms capable of expreſſing all the different Faces under which the mind can repreſent [Page] one and the ſame thing; therefore recourſe muſt be had to certain ways of Speaking called Tropes, whoſe Nature and Invention is explain'd in this Chapter. p. 69.

II. A List of the moſt conſiderable ſort of Tropes. p. 72.

CHAP. II.

I. Of the good uſe of Tropes, they ought to be clear. p. 82.

II. Our Tropes muſt be proportion'd to the Idea's that we would give. p. 87.

II. Tropes are an Ornament in Diſcurſe. p. 90.

CHAP. III.

I. The Paſſions have a peculiar Language; Expreſſions that are the characters of Paſſions are called Figures. p. 92.

II. Figures are uſeful and neceſſary. p. 95.

III. A List of Figures. p. 101.

[Page] IV. The number of Figures is infinite, and every Figure may be made a hundred ſeveral ways. p. 123.

CHAP. IV.

I. Figures are the Arms of the Soul: A parallel betwixt a Soldier fighting, and an Orator ſpeaking. p. 125.

II. The Conſequence of our Parallel betwixt a Soldier fighting, and an Orator pleading in defence of a Cauſe. p. 130.

III. Figures illuſtrate obſcure truths, and make the mind attentive. p. 135.

IV. Reflexion upon the good uſe of Figures. p. 142.

The Third Part.

CHAP. I.

I. Of Sounds and Letters, of which words are compos'd. p. 105.

II. What is to be avoided in ranging our words. p. 114.

[Page] III. In ſpeaking, the voice does frequently repoſe; we may commit three faults in miſplacing the repoſe of the voice. p. 121.

IV. Too frequent repitition of the ſame ſounds, the ſame letters, and the ſame words, is troubleſome: The means to render pronunciation in diſcourſe, equal. p. 127.

CHAP. II.

I. Words are ſounds; conditions neceſſary to make ſounds agreeable: The firſt condition; A violent ſound is diſagreeable; a moderate ſound pleaſeth. p. 132.

II. The ſecond condition; A ſound ought to be distinct, that is ſtrong enough to be heard. p. 133.

III. The equality of ſounds contributes to render them diſtinct, which is the third condition. p. 134.

IV. The fourth condition; Diverſity is as neceſſary as equality to render ſounds agreeable. p. 136.

V. The fifth condition: The precedent [Page] conditions are to be allied. p. 138.

VI. The ſixth condition; The alliance of equality and diverſity ought to be ſenſible: what is to be obſerved in order thereunto. p. 139.

VII. What the ear diſtinguiſhes in the ſound of words, and what it perceives with pleaſure. p. 140.

CHAP. III.

I. The art to render pronunciation agreeable, is to be uſed with diſcretion. p. 144.

II. How we are to diſtribute the intervals of reſpiration, that the repoſes of the voice may be proportionable. p. 147.

III. The compoſition of Periods. p. 150.

IV. Examples of ſome few Latin periods: Periods are pronounced with eaſe p. 154.

V. The figurative ranging of words, and in what theſe Figures conſiſt. p. 157.

VI. Reflexions upon theſe Figures. p. 162.

CHAP. IV.

I. Of the meaſure of time in pronunciation. p. 164.

II. Of the ſtructure of Verſe. p. 167.

III. How the Latins diſtinguiſh their meaſures. How many ſorts of meaſures there are in the ſtructure of a Verſe. p. 170.

IV. Equality of Meaſures. p. 175.

V. Of the Variety of meaſures, and the allyance of their equality with that variety. p. 180.

VI. How the Romans made the alliance of the equality and variety of their Verſe, ſenſible. p. 185.

VII. Of the Poetry of the French. p. 187.

CHAP. V.

I. There is a ſtrange ſympathy betwixt Numbers and the Soul: What Numbers are. p. 202

[Page] II. When Numbers agree with the things expreſſed, they render our diſcourſe more lively and ſignificative. p. 206.

III. The way of joining our diſcourſe by Numbers that correſpond to the things ſignified. p. 209.

The Fourth Part.

CHAP. I.

I. We muſt chuſe a style ſuitable to the matter of which we treat. What Style is. p. 1.

II. The qualities of the ſtyle depend upon the qualities of the imagination, memory, and judgment of the writer. p. 4.

III. The advantage of a good imagination. p. 7.

IV. Qualities of the ſubſtance of the brain, and in the animal ſpirits, neceſſary to make a good imagination. p. 9.

[Page] V. The advantage of a good memory. p. 13.

VI. Qualities in the mind neceſſary to make a man eloquent. p. 14.

VI. Diverſity of inclinations alter the ſtyles: Each age, each climate has its ſeveral style. p. 19.

CHAP. II.

I. The matter of which we treat, ought to determine us in the choice of our ſtyle. p. 22.

II. Rules for the ſublime lofty ſtyle. p. 25.

III. Of the plain ſimple style. p. 32.

IV. Of the moderate ſtyle. p. 34.

CHAP. III.

I. Of styles proper to certain things; Qualities common to all theſe styles. p. 36.

II. What ought to be the style of an Orator. p. 41.

III. What ought to be the style of an Historian. p. 46.

[Page] IV. What ought to be the Dogmatical style. p. 48.

V. What ought to be the style of a Poet. p. 52.

CHAP. IV.

I. The beauty of diſcourſe is the effect of exact obſervation of the Rules ſpeaking. p. 59▪

II. The falſe Idea that men have of grandeur, and their deſire to ſpeak nothing but great things, is the cauſe of ill ornaments. p. 63.

III. Of artificial ornaments, and rules relating to them. p. 70.

IV. The former fable refuted, and the true original of languages declared. p. 77.

A Diſcourſe Preſenting an Idea of the Art of Perſwaſion.

[Page]

CHAP. I.

I. The parts of the Art of Perſwaſion. p. 88.

II. The invention of Proofs. p. 91.

III. Of Common Places. p. 94.

IV. Of places proper to certain ſubjects. p. 99.

V. Reflexion upon the method of places. p. 103.

CHAP. II.

I. A ſecond means to perſwade. p. 107.

II. Qualities required in an Orator [Page] who would allure thoſe to whom he ſpeaks. p. 110.

III. What is to be obſerved in things upon which we ſpeak, and in what manner we are to inſinuate into our Auditors. 117▪

IV. The qualities that we have ſhown to be neceſſary in an Orator, ought not to be counterfeit. p. 124.

CHAP. III.

I. 'Tis lawful to excite ſuch paſſion in our hearers, as may carry them as we deſign. p. 128.

II. What is to be done to excite theſe paſſions. p. 133.

III. How we may make ſuch things contemptible as are fit to be laught at. p. 141▪

CHAP. IV.

I. Of the diſpoſition of thoſe parts that make up a diſcourſe. Of the Exordium. p. 147.

II. Propoſition. p. 150.

[Page] III. Of Confirmation, or eſtabliſhment of proofs; and at the ſame time of Refutation. p. 155.

IV. Of the Epilogue, and other parts of the Art of perſwaſion. p. 161.

Books ſold by Moſes Pitt at the Angel in St. Pauls Church-yard.

[Page]

Folio.

Theſes Theologicae variis Temporibus in Academia Sedanenſi editae, & ad diſputandum propoſitae. Authore Ludovico le Blanc verbi Divini Miniſtro & Theologiae profeſſore. In qua exponitur ſententia Doctorum Eccleſiae Romanae, & Proteſtantium▪ Fol. pr. 20 s.

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Information about this book

Title statement

The art of speaking written in French by Messieurs du Port Royal in pursuance of a former treatise intituled, The art of thinking ; rendred into English.Art de parler. English

Lamy, Bernard, 1640-1715.

Edition statement

1676

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A70499

ID [STC]

Wing L307A

ID [STC]

ESTC R1142

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

11875691

ID [OCLC]

ocm 11875691

ID [VID]

50222

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A70499)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 50222)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 8:1 or 1742:15)

Source

— The art of speaking written in French by Messieurs du Port Royal in pursuance of a former treatise intituled, The art of thinking ; rendred into English., Art de parler. English, Lamy, Bernard, 1640-1715., Arnauld, Antoine, 1612-1694., Brulart, Fabio, 1655-1714., Lamy, François, 1636-1711., Nicole, Pierre, 1625-1695..

Extent

[14], 148, 105-212, 164, [20] p.

Printed by W. Godbid, and are to be sold by M. Pitt ...,. London :: 1676.. (Translation of: Art de parler.) (Formerly attributed to Antoine Arnauld; now attributed to Bernard Lamy. Cf. LCNAF. Also variously attributed to François Lamy, Fabio Brulart, and Pierre Nicole.) (This work appears at reel 8:1 as Wing A3720 (number cancelled in Wing 2nd ed.), and as Wing (2nd ed.) L307A at reel 1742:15.) (Reproduction of originals in Harvard University Library, and Huntington Library.)

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