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<NAME>Alexis Jakobson</NAME>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P>THE ART OF
SPEAKING:
Written in French by
MESSIEURS DU PORT ROYAL:
In pur&s;uance of a former Treati&s;e, Intituled,
THE ART OF THINKING.</P>
<P>Rendred into ENGLISH.</P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI>
Printed by W. GODBID, and are to be Sold
by M. PITT, at the <HI>Angel</HI> again&s;t the little
North Door of St. <HI>Paul</HI>'s Church. 1676.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="preface">
<PB REF="2" MS="y">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>THE
PREFACE.</HEAD>
<P>OUr common Idea of Rhetorick
is this, That to &s;peak Eloquent|ly,
it &s;uffices to cram our Me|mory
with &s;uch Precepts as are
pre&s;crib'd by it. In this opinion, &s;everal
People read with great eagerne&s;s tho&s;e
Books which are writ of that Subject; but
after all their pains and a&s;&s;iduity finding
their improvement but &s;mall, and them|&s;elves
little more Eloquent than before,
they impute it to the Author, as if he
had not di&s;cover'd the My&s;tery of the
Art according to his pretence: So that
not receiving the benefit they expected,
their di&s;appointment turns into di&s;gu&s;t, and
makes them de&s;pi&s;e all that he writes.</P>
<P><PB REF="3">
I &s;hould expect no better Fortune for
this Book, had not our Author avoided
a particular fault that renders mo&s;t Books
of Rhetorick ineffectual. He does not
trouble the Reader with a throng and
huddle of Precepts, that &s;erve only to load
and incumber the Mind. He endeavours
to lay open the bottom of the Art he under|takes,
and its natural Principles, which
being well under&s;tood, leaves us under no
nece&s;&s;ity of multitude of Rules, that do but
crowd one another out of the Memory as
&s;oon as they are entred.</P>
<P>To make us comprehend the true Rea|&s;ons
of the Principles of Rhetorick, our
Author begins with an explication how
Speech is form'd: To &s;how from Nature
it &s;elf after what manner words are to be
contriv'd for the Expre&s;&s;ion of our Thoughts,
and the Motions of our Wills, he has &s;uppos'd
a company of new Men met together, who
had never convers'd before, nor knew how
to &s;peak. He con&s;iders what the&s;e Men
would do; he makes it appear, they would
quickly find the benefit of Speech, and
frame a Language to them&s;elves. He
con&s;iders what form they would give it,
and in his re&s;earch di&s;covers the Funda|mentals
<PB REF="3">
of all Language, and gives his
Rea&s;ons for all Rules pre&s;crib'd by the
Grammarians. It may be, his Di&s;qui&s;ition
will appear incon&s;iderable to &s;ome, who
will be di&s;courag'd from reading this Book,
when in the Front they find him &s;peaking
of <HI>Nouns Sub&s;tantives, Adjectives,
Declen&s;ions, Verbs, Conjugations,
&amp;c.</HI> But, be&s;ides that the Con&s;equence
will ea&s;ily evince, that it is u&s;eful for
teaching Languages with more readine&s;s,
and to make us &s;peak more exactly; Order
would not permit him to pa&s;s over tho&s;e
little things, which if you will believe
<HI>Quintilian</HI> (as great a Ma&s;ter of Rhe|torick
as any has writ) make the mo&s;t im|portant
part of the <HI>Art of Speaking;</HI>
and this he declares, by comparing them
to the Foundations of a Hou&s;e, which
though laid low under ground, are yet as
nece&s;&s;ary parts as any that appear.</P>
<P>When his new Men have acted their
parts, our Author &s;hows what is the true
Original of Language, and that 'tis not
bare accident that &s;upplied us with Words.
Neverthele&s;s he demon&s;trates, that Lan|guage
depends upon the Will and Con&s;ent
of Men, and that Cu&s;tom, or common Con|&s;ent,
<PB REF="4">
exerci&s;es an ab&s;olute dominion over
our Words, and therefore he gives us
Rules to know the Laws of Cu&s;tom, and
Directions how they are to be kept. And
all this in his fir&s;t Book.</P>
<P>In his &s;econd Book he ob&s;erves that the
plentifulle&s;t, and mo&s;t copious Languages
cannot furni&s;h proper Terms for the Ex|pre&s;&s;ion
of all our Idea's, and therefore
recour&s;e is to be had to Art, and we
mu&s;t borrow the Terms of things that
bear re&s;emblance, or retain &s;ome refe|rence
or connexion with tho&s;e which we
would &s;ignifie other ways, had common
Cu&s;tom afforded us Natural Terms. The&s;e
borrowed Expre&s;&s;ions are called Tropes;
he &s;peaks of all &s;orts of Tropes, and of
their U&s;e. He ob&s;erves likewi&s;e in the
&s;ame Book, That as Nature has di&s;pos'd
the Body of Man &s;o, as to put it &s;elf into
&s;uch po&s;tures immediately as are be&s;t 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 &s;peaking, able to produce in
the Minds of our Hearers the Effects which
we de&s;ire, whether it be anger, or mild|ne&s;s,
or dete&s;tation, or love. The&s;e ways
<PB REF="4">
and artifices in &s;peaking, are called <HI>Fi|gures,</HI>
of which our Author treats with
more than ordinary care, not contenting
him&s;elf with mentioning their Names,
and adding &s;ome few Examples (as is com|monly
done) but he di&s;covers the Nature
of each Figure, and how it is to be u&s;ed.</P>
<P>The ea&s;ine&s;s wherewith we &s;peak, and
the plea&s;ure we take to hear an harangue
well pronounc'd (as our Author has ob|&s;erv'd
at the beginning of his Book) has
di&s;pos'd Mankind to make u&s;e of Words to
&s;ignifie his Thoughts, rather than of any
other &s;ign. In the ordering and ranging
of Words, great pains has been taken to
find out what it is that makes a Di&s;cour&s;e
go well off of the Tongue, and prove grate|ful
to the Hearers. We have at large in
his third Book, what we are to avoid,
what we are to ob&s;erve, 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 di&s;cour&s;es of Periods, explains
the Art of Ver&s;ification; and after he has
taught what it is in the Sound of Words
that is plea&s;ant to the Ear, he &s;hows
how the Rules pre&s;crib'd by other Ma&s;ters
<PB REF="5">
for the Compo&s;ition of Periods, and Ma|king
of Ver&s;e, are for no other end, but
to di&s;cover in Di&s;cour&s;e the conditions that
render pronunciation mo&s;t agreeable and
ea&s;ie.</P>
<P>The la&s;t Book treats of Styles, or ways
of &s;peaking, which Men a&s;&s;ume 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 &s;hows how our Style
ought to be heightned or deba&s;ed, as the
Matter of our Di&s;cour&s;e is con&s;iderable or
otherwi&s;e: He &s;hows how the quality of
our Di&s;cour&s;e ought to expre&s;s the quality
of our Subject; how our Style ought to be
&s;trong or &s;mooth, &s;evere or florid, as the
Nature of the Subject requires. He in|quires
into the Style of an Orator, a Poet,
a Philo&s;opher, and Hi&s;torian; and at the
end of his Di&s;cour&s;e, &s;peaking of Rhetorical
Ornaments, he demon&s;trates that they are
produc'd by exact ob&s;ervation of the Rules
which he has pre&s;crib'd.</P>
<P>The&s;e Four Books of the <HI>Art of Spea|king,</HI>
are followed by a Di&s;cour&s;e in which
the Author gives us an Idea of the <HI>Art of
Per&s;wa&s;ion.</HI> At the Entrance of his
<PB REF="5">
Di&s;cour&s;e, he gives Rea&s;ons why he has
&s;eparated that <HI>Art</HI> from the <HI>Art of Spea|king,</HI>
which Rea&s;ons are not nece&s;&s;ary to
be in&s;erted in this place. Though his
Di&s;cour&s;e be &s;hort, I am of opinion it af|fords
a better De&s;cription of the <HI>Art of
Per&s;wa&s;ion,</HI> than great Volumes which
others have compos'd of that Subject. And
therefore our Author di&s;playing the true
Fundamentals of the <HI>Arts of Speaking,</HI>
and <HI>Per&s;wading,</HI> (both which are com|prehended
in our Idea of Rhetorick) I do
not de&s;pair but tho&s;e who &s;hall &s;eriou&s;ly
peru&s;e this Book, will receive &s;uch benefit,
as is not to be found in the Writings of
the ancient Rhetoricians, who pre&s;ent us
only with Rules, without any Character
or De&s;cription of their Principles.</P>
<P>Though this new Rhetorick &s;hould give
us nothing but &s;peculative Notions, that
contribute little to the making us. Elo|quent,
yet the reading of it would not be
altogether u&s;ele&s;s, becau&s;e in his Di&s;cour&s;e
of the Nature of this Art, he makes
&s;everal important reflexions upon our Mind,
(whereof Di&s;cour&s;e is the Image) which re|flexions
conduce highly to the knowledge of
our &s;elves, and by con&s;equence de&s;erve our
attention.</P>
<P><PB REF="6">
Be&s;ides this, I per&s;wade my &s;elf, there
is no per&s;on of any moderate curio&s;ity, but
will be glad to under&s;tand Rea&s;ons for all
Rules pre&s;crib'd by the <HI>Art of Speaking.</HI>
When our Author tells us what is plea|&s;ing
in Di&s;cour&s;e, he does not call it <HI>je ne
&s;cay quoy</HI> without a Name; he names
it, and conducting us to the very Foun|tain
from whence our Plea&s;ure &s;prings, he
pre&s;ents to our view the Principles of tho&s;e
Rules that make them agreeable; which
mu&s;t needs be more &s;atisfactory, than the
Works of tho&s;e who plea&s;e only by the pra|ctice
of the &s;aid Rules: For the Plea&s;ures
of the Mind, are to be preferr'd before
the Plea&s;ures of the Sen&s;e. It would be
ab&s;urd and irregular (&s;ays St. <HI>Au&s;tin)</HI>
to prefer Plea&s;ure cau&s;ed by the running
of a Ver&s;e, before the Knowledge how to
compo&s;e them. <HI>Nonnulli pervers&egrave;, ma|gis
amant ver&s;um, qu&agrave;m artem ip|&s;am
qua conficitur ver&s;us; quia plus
auribus quam intelligentiae &s;e&s;e dede|runt.</HI>
Some are &s;o idle as to fancy a
Ver&s;e, more than the Art of compo&s;ing
them, becau&s;e they are more devoted to
their Ear, than their Under&s;tanding.</P>
<P><PB REF="6">
But this Treati&s;e will be more parti|cularly
u&s;eful to young Men, by rea&s;on our
Author treats of every thing in its Na|tural
Order; and conducts the Reader to
the under&s;tanding of what he teaches by
&s;uch ea&s;ie Rea&s;ons, as are not de&s;crib'd &s;o
accurately and plainly in mo&s;t other Ma|&s;ters.
It has been a daily complaint, that
&s;ufficient care has not been taken to in|form
and fortifie the Judgments of young
People, who have been hitherto taught
like young Parrots, only by words, with|out
regarding the improvement of their
Judgments by accu&s;toming them to argue
and rea&s;on upon the &s;mall things that they
are taught. Hence it is, that Sciences many
times do but trouble the Mind, and cor|rupt
the Natural Judgment that is often
con&s;picuous in &s;ome per&s;ons who &s;tudy but
little.</P>
<P>Our Author thought not fit to &s;well up
his Book with multitude of Examples,
though perhaps they might have been con|venient;
for there is no Ma&s;ter but may
&s;upply this defect, by cau&s;ing his Scholars
to mark &s;uch places as are excellent in the
Works of &s;uch as have tran&s;cended in the
Practice of this Art.</P>
<P><PB REF="7">
This Treati&s;e is not intended for the
Orator alone, but in general for all that
either &s;peak or write; for Poets, Hi&s;to|rians,
Philo&s;ophers, Divines, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> And
though it was compos'd in <HI>French,</HI> it may
&s;erve for all Languages, becau&s;e it inquires
into the Fundamentals of Speech, and the
Rules pre&s;crib'd in it, are not peculiar to
any one Language.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="imprimatur">
<PB REF="7">
<PB REF="8">
<HEAD><DATE>Jan. 19. 1675.</DATE></HEAD>
<P>Imprimatur hic Liber cui titulus
<HI>[The Art of Speaking,</HI> &amp;c.]
Gul. Jane, S. T. B. Rev. in
Chri&s;to Patri, D. HENR. Epi&s;c.
Lond. &agrave; Sac. Dome&s;t.</P>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 N="1" TYPE="part">
<PB N="1" REF="8">
<HEAD>THE FIRST PART
OF THE
ART OF SPEAKING.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Organs of the Voice, and how our
Speech is form'd.</HEAD>
<P>WE may &s;peak with our
Eyes, and our Fingers,
and make u&s;e of the
motions of tho&s;e parts
to expre&s;s the Idea's which are pre&s;ent
to our Minds, and the Affections of our
Wills: But this way of Speaking is not
only imperfect, but trouble&s;om. We
<PB N="2" REF="9">
cannot without much labour expre&s;s by
our Eyes, or our Fingers, all the va|riety
of things which occur to our
thought: We move our Tongue with
ea&s;e, and can readily diver&s;ifie the &s;ound
of our Voice in different manners. For
this rea&s;on Nature has di&s;po&s;ed Man
to make u&s;e of the Organs of the Voice
to give &s;en&s;ible &s;igns of what he wills
and conceives.</P>
<P>The di&s;po&s;ition of the&s;e Organs is
wonderful. We have a natural Organ,
of which the <HI>a&s;pera arteria</HI> or Wind-pipe
(proceeding from the Lungs to the
root of our Tongue) is the pa&s;&s;age or
Canal. The Lungs are like Bellows,
drawing in the Air by their dilatation,
and expelling it by their contraction.
The part of the <HI>a&s;pera arteria</HI> next the
root of the Tongue is called the <HI>Larynx,</HI>
and is incompa&s;s'd with Cartilages and
Mu&s;cles, by which it opens and &s;huts.
When the orifice of the <HI>Larynx</HI> is
&s;traight, the Air being violently forc'd
out, is da&s;h'd and broken, and receives
a motion which makes the &s;ound of the
Voice; but which is not yet articula|ted.
This Voice is received in the
<PB N="3" REF="9">
Mouth, where the Tongue modifies it,
and gives it different forms, according
to its propul&s;ion again&s;t the Teeth or
the Palate; according as it is detain'd
or tran&s;mitted; or according as the
Mouth is more or le&s;s open.</P>
<P>This facility of expre&s;&s;ing our Sen|timents
by the Voice, has cau&s;ed Man|kind
to apply them&s;elves &s;tudiou&s;ly to
the con&s;ideration of all the differences
which it receives from the &s;everal mo|tions
of the Organs of Pronunciation;
and they have di&s;tingui&s;hed every parti|cular
modification by a Letter: The&s;e
Letters are the Elements of Speech, and
though their number be not great, yet
they are &s;ufficient for all the Words not
only of the pre&s;ent, but of all the pa&s;t,
and future Languages in the World.
The conjunction of two or more Letters
makes a Syllable; one or more Syllables
makes a Word; &s;o that we may &s;ay,
Speech is a compo&s;ition of Sounds of
the Voice, by Men e&s;tabli&s;hed to be the
&s;igns 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
<PB N="4" REF="10">
of compo&s;ing a prodigious multitude
of different Words. I have &s;hown el&s;e|where,
that 24 &s;everal Letters may be
&s;o variou&s;ly tran&s;po&s;ed, as to make 576
&s;everal Words of two Letters. That
24 times as many Words may be form'd
of three &s;everal Letters, that is to &s;ay,
13824 Words. That 24 times as many
more may be made of four &s;everal Let|ters;
and &s;o on proportionably: From
whence we may judge of the va&s;t va|riety
of Words that might be made of
them all, and indeed they are little le&s;s
than infinite.</P>
<P>And here it is of importance to ob|&s;erve
the di&s;tinction betwixt the <HI>&s;oul</HI> of
Words and the <HI>body;</HI> betwixt that in
them which is corporeal, and that in
them which is &s;piritual; betwixt that
which is common to us with Birds,
and that which is peculiar to our &s;elves.
The Idea's pre&s;ent to our Mind (when
it commands the Organs of the Voice
to form &s;uch Sounds as are the &s;igns of
tho&s;e Idea's) are the Soul of our Words:
The Sounds form'd by the Organs of
our Voice (which, though of them|&s;elves
they have nothing re&s;embling
<PB N="5" REF="10">
tho&s;e Idea's, do notwith&s;tanding repre|&s;ent
them) are the material part, and
may be called the Body of our Words.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Before we &s;peak, we ought to form a
Scheme in our Minds of what we
de&s;ire to &s;ay.</HEAD>
<P>A Painter will not lay on his Co|lours
'till he has formed in his ima|gination
what he de&s;igns to draw.
Di&s;cour&s;e is the Picture of our thoughts;
the Tongue is the Pencil which draws
that Picture; and Words are the Co|lours.
We ought therefore in the fir&s;t
place to range our Thoughts, and put
&s;uch things as we intend to repre&s;ent
by our Words into natural order;
di&s;po&s;ing them &s;o, that the knowledge
of &s;ome few of them, may render the
re&s;t more ea&s;ie and intelligible to the
Reader.</P>
<P>The Natural Order to be ob&s;erved
in the ranging of our thoughts, belongs
<PB N="6" REF="11">
properly to tho&s;e that write of the Art
of Thinking. Every Art has its bounds,
which are not to be tran&s;gre&s;s'd. For
&s;uch things as reiate to the Matter of
our Di&s;cour&s;e, my following Rules will
not be (I &s;uppo&s;e) unworthy of Con|&s;ideration.
The fir&s;t is, That we me|ditate
upon our Subject, and make all
reflexion nece&s;&s;ary for the di&s;covery of
&s;uch means as may direct us to our pro|po&s;ed
end. We mu&s;t forget nothing
that may make that Subject per&s;picuous.
But it many times happens, that en|deavouring
to clear and explain a thing,
we overcharge the attention of the
Reader, and render it more ab&s;tru&s;e, by
our prolix explications. Abundance is
&s;ometimes the cau&s;e of &s;terility: The
Husbandman fears the rankne&s;s of his
Corn, and feeds his Sheep with it to
prevent it. We cannot comprehend
any Argument or Science, unle&s;s our
meditation &s;upply us with things ne|ce&s;&s;ary,
and retrench what is &s;uper|fluous;
which pains an Author is to
&s;pare to &s;uch per&s;ons as he undertakes to
in&s;truct. A Man that writes by halves,
gives an imperfect account; but a great
<PB N="7" REF="11">
book is a great evil; <GAP DESC="foreign">.
We wander in it, we lo&s;e our
&s;elves, and have &s;carce patience to turn
it over. When therefore we have made
an exact collection of all things rela|ting
to the matter of which we treat,
we mu&s;t contract them, reduce them
to their ju&s;t bounds, and making a
&s;trict choice and &s;election of what are
ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary, reject the re&s;t as
&s;uperfluous. We are to be continually
intent upon the end to which we would
arrive; we are to take the &s;horte&s;t cut
to it, and avoid all manner of devia|tion.
Unle&s;s we &s;lightly run over
things of &s;mall importance, not at all
e&s;&s;ential to our de&s;ign, our Reader will
be weary, and his application diverted
from &s;uch as are.</P>
<P>This Brevity, &s;o nece&s;&s;ary to make a
Book neat and compact, con&s;i&s;ts not
only in the retrenchment of what is
unnece&s;&s;ary, but requires that we in&s;ert
&s;uch circum&s;tances as may illu&s;trate our
di&s;cour&s;e, and imply many things that
are not expre&s;&s;ed. For this, we are to
imitate the addre&s;s of <HI>Timanthes,</HI> the
famous Painter, who being to repre|&s;ent
<PB N="8" REF="12">
the prodigious &s;tature of a Giant
in a &s;mall picture, painted him lying
along in the mid&s;t of a Troop of Sa|tyrs,
one of which was mea&s;uring the
Giants Thumb with his Thyr&s;e; inti|mating
by that ingenious invention,
how va&s;t his Body mu&s;t needs be, when
&s;o &s;mall a part of him was to be mea|&s;ured
with a Launce. The&s;e Inven|tions
require much wit, and applica|tion;
and therefore it was, that Mons&punc;
<HI>Pa&s;cal</HI> (an Author very famous for his
felicity in compri&s;ing much in few
words) excu&s;ed him&s;elf wittily for the
extravagant length of one of his Let|ters,
by &s;aying, he had not time to
make it &s;horter.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">To &s;ignifie the difference of our
Thoughts, we have need of Words
of different Orders.</HEAD>
<P>AS we cannot fini&s;h a Picture, nor
di&s;tingui&s;h the different &s;trokes
<PB N="9" REF="12">
of things to be repre&s;ented therein,
with one &s;ingle Colour; &s;o 'tis impo&s;|&s;ible
to expre&s;s whatever occurs in our
Mind, with Words of one &s;ingle Or|der.
Let Nature be Mi&s;tre&s;s in this
ca&s;e, and teach us what this di&s;tinction
ought to be; let us &s;ee how Men would
form their Language, and make them|&s;elves
intelligible one to another, &s;hould
they be brought together from &s;trange
and remote places. Let us make u&s;e
of the liberty of the Poets, and fetch
either out of the Earth or the Heavens
a Troop of new Men, altogether igno|rant
of the benefit of Words. The
&s;ight mu&s;t needs be agreeable, becau&s;e
it is plea&s;ant to fancy them &s;peaking,
and conver&s;ing together with their
Hands, their Eyes, ge&s;tures and con|tortions
of their Bodies; but it is plain,
it would not be long before they would
be weary of the&s;e po&s;tures, and either
chance or di&s;cretion would &s;how them
the conveniency of Words.</P>
<P>We cannot di&s;cover what form they
would give to their Language, but by
con&s;idering what we our &s;elves &s;hould
do in the &s;ame company. Diver&s;ity of
<PB N="10" REF="13">
Words then, being nece&s;&s;ary, only in
re&s;pect of the different things which
pa&s;s in our Mind, and we are inclin'd
to impart; we mu&s;t ob&s;erve exactly all
that &s;o pa&s;&s;es, that we may be enabled
thereby to find out what we are to do
to paint the different Features of our
Thoughts.</P>
<P>When our Organs of Sen&s;e are free,
and undi&s;turbed, we perceive what it
is that &s;trikes them, and at the &s;ame
time we have the Idea's of &s;uch things
pre&s;ent to our Mind. For which rea|&s;on
the&s;e Idea's are not improperly cal|led,
<HI>The Objects of our Perceptions.</HI> Be|&s;ides
the&s;e Idea's which re&s;ult from our
Sen&s;es, there are others fundamentally
inherent in our Natures, and not falling
that way into our Minds; as tho&s;e
which repre&s;ent to us Natural and Ori|ginal
Truths, &s;uch as the&s;e, <HI>That we
are to give every man his due; That it is
impo&s;&s;ible for a thing to be and not to be at
the &s;ame time,</HI> &amp;c.</P>
<P>Doubtle&s;s if the&s;e new Men would
make it their bu&s;ine&s;s to find out Words
that might be &s;igns of all the&s;e Idea's
which are the Objects of our perception
<PB N="11" REF="13">
(which, according to the Philo&s;ophers,
is the fir&s;t operation of the Mind) in
the infinite variety of Words, it would
not be difficult to find particular &s;igns
to mark every Idea, and give it a parti|cular
Name. In as much as we natu|rally
make u&s;e of the&s;e primitive No|tions,
we may believe, that if other
things &s;hould pre&s;ent them&s;elves to their
Minds, bearing any re&s;emblance or con|formity
to tho&s;e things which they had
denominated before, they would not take
the pains to invent new words, but (with
&s;ome little variation) make u&s;e of the
fir&s;t Names to denote the difference of
the things to which they would apply
them. Experience per&s;wades me, that
where a proper Word does not occur
immediately to our Tongue, we &s;hould
make u&s;e of the Name of &s;ome other
thing bearing &s;ome kind of re&s;emblance
to it. In all Languages, the Names of
things almo&s;t alike have very little dif|ference:
From one &s;ingle Word many
other are derived, as is obvious in the
Dictionaries of &s;uch Languages as we
know.</P>
<P>The &s;ame Word may be diver&s;ified
<PB N="12" REF="14">
&s;everal ways; by tran&s;po&s;ition, retrench|ment,
addition of Vowels or Con&s;o|nants,
or by changing the Termina|tion.
So that it is no hard matter,
when we give the proper Name of a
particular thing, to &s;everal others that
are like it, to &s;ignifie by &s;ome little va|riation,
what &s;uch things have in pe|culiar;
and in what they differ from the
things from whence they have their
Names.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Nouns Sub&s;tantives, Adjectives, and
Articles.</HEAD>
<P>SUch Words as &s;ignifie the Object of
our Thoughts, (that is to &s;ay, Things)
are called Nouns. We con&s;ider in every
thing, its being, and its manner of
being: The being of a thing, as for
example, the being of Wax, is the &s;ub|&s;tance
of Wax. The roundne&s;s or
&s;quarene&s;s of the figure (which may
be changed without prejudice to the
<PB N="13" REF="14">
Wax) are its manners of being. To
be ignorant, or knowing, are man|ners
of our being. It is nece&s;&s;ary there|fore,
that among the Names of things,
&s;ome &s;hould be appointed to &s;ignifie the
&s;ub&s;tance, and &s;ome the manner of their
being. Tho&s;e which de&s;cribe the ab|&s;olute
being of a thing, are called Sub|&s;tantives.
Tho&s;e which de&s;cribe the
manner only, are called Adjectives,
becau&s;e having no natural &s;ub&s;i&s;tence
of their own, they &s;ub&s;i&s;t by nothing
but the Noun Sub&s;tantive to which they
are joyned. In the&s;e two Words, <HI>Round
Earth,</HI> the la&s;t is the Sub&s;tantive, and
the fir&s;t &s;ignifies nothing but its manner
of being. Nouns Sub&s;tantives do be|come
Adjectives, or rather things of
ab&s;olute exi&s;tence; and &s;ub&s;tances are
expre&s;&s;ed by Nouns Adjectives, when
being applied to other things, they are
u&s;ed to &s;ignifie their manner of being,
as in the&s;e Adjectives, <HI>Silvered, Tinned,
Leaded,</HI> &amp;c.</P>
<P>Nouns do commonly &s;ignifie things
in a general and unlimited way: Ar|ticles,
in Languages where they are
u&s;ed, (as in <HI>Greek, Latin, French,</HI> &amp;c.)
<PB N="14" REF="15">
do &s;erve to re&s;train and determin the
&s;ignification of Nouns, and apply them
to a particular thing. If we &s;ay 'tis a
happine&s;s to be <HI>King,</HI> the expre&s;&s;ion is
vagous, but if you add <HI>the</HI> to it, and
&s;ay it is a happine&s;s to be <HI>the King,</HI> it
determins the bu&s;ine&s;s, and cannot be
under&s;tood but of the King of a parti|cular
People mentioned before. So
that Articles do contribute very much
to the clearne&s;s of Di&s;cour&s;e, and 'tis
not impo&s;&s;ible but the&s;e new Men, in
the compo&s;ure of their Language, would
make u&s;e of them; and the nece&s;&s;ity of
determining the unfixed &s;ignification of
Words would a&s;&s;i&s;t to the finding them
out.</P>
<P>The different ways of termination;
may be in&s;tead of another Noun. We
find in all Languages that Nouns have
two &s;everal terminations. One im|ports
the thing mentioned to be of the
Singular Number, the other of the Plu|ral;
for which rea&s;on Nouns have ge|nerally
two Numbers, the Singular and
the Plural. The word <HI>Homo,</HI> with the
termination of the Singular Number,
implies only a &s;ingle Per&s;on; but <HI>Homines,</HI>
<PB N="15" REF="15">
in the termination of the Plural, implies
more Men; the variation of the termi|nation
&s;erving in&s;tead of <HI>all,</HI> or <HI>many.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">How to mark the references which
things have among them&s;elves.</HEAD>
<P>VVE do not always con&s;ider
&s;imply the things that are
the Objects of our thoughts; we com|pare
them with other things; we re|flect
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
expre&s;s the&s;e references, with the Series
and Connexion of all the Idea's that the
Con&s;ideration of the&s;e things imprints
in our Minds. In &s;ome Languages the
different terminations of the &s;ame Noun
do create new differences, and &s;upply
tho&s;e Words which are nece&s;&s;ary to ex|pre&s;s
the reference of a thing. The&s;e
<PB N="16" REF="16">
are commonly called <HI>Ca&s;es,</HI> and are &s;ix
in each Number, both Singular and
Plural. <HI>The Nominative, the Genitive,
the Dative, the Accu&s;ative, the Vocative,
and the Ablative.</HI> The &s;ame Noun (be|&s;ides
the principal Idea of the thing
which it &s;ignifies) contains a particular
reference betwixt that thing and &s;ome
other, according as it is in the <HI>Genitive</HI> or
the <HI>Dative</HI> Ca&s;e, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> The Nominative,
&s;ignifies a thing &s;imply and po&s;itively.
The Genitive, its reference with the
thing to which it relates, as <HI>Palatium
Regis.</HI> The Dative, its relation to the
thing as it tends to profit or prejudice,
as <HI>Utilis Reipublicae.</HI> The Accu&s;ative,
its relation to a thing which acts upon
it, as <HI>Cae&s;ar vicit Pompeium.</HI> The Vo|cative,
is u&s;ed when we addre&s;s our
di&s;cour&s;e to the per&s;on or thing &s;ignified
by the Noun. The Ablative, is u&s;ed
in &s;uch infinite ca&s;es, that it is not po&s;|&s;ible
to mark them all.</P>
<P>The Languages who&s;e Nouns do not
admit of the&s;e different Ca&s;es, do make
u&s;e of little words called Particles with
the &s;ame effect; as <HI>of, the, to, by, they,
&amp;c.</HI> Adverbs are u&s;ed likewi&s;e with
<PB N="17" REF="16">
little difference from the Declen&s;ion of
Nouns, carrying with them &s;ometimes
the force of tho&s;e Particles, as this Ad|verb
<HI>Wi&s;ely</HI> imports as much as the&s;e
two Words together, <HI>With Wi&s;dom.</HI>
The different relations betwixt things,
in re&s;pect of their place, &s;ituation, mo|tion,
repo&s;e, di&s;tance, oppo&s;ition, and
compari&s;on, are infinite. We cannot
di&s;cour&s;e a moment, but &s;omething will
ari&s;e to &s;ugge&s;t them. We are not to
doubt then, but the&s;e men, whom we
&s;uppo&s;e brought together from remote
parts, of no corre&s;pondence, would
quickly find out &s;ome way or other to
&s;ignifie the&s;e references and relations,
either by Particles (as in the <HI>French,</HI>
where the Nouns have not that way of
Declen&s;ion) or by the different termi|nations
of the Names of the Things
them&s;elves, as in the <HI>Latin</HI> and <HI>Greek.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="18" REF="17">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the Nature of Verbs.</HEAD>
<P>THe operations of the Mind are re|ferr'd
commonly to three princi|pals.
<HI>Perception,</HI> by which we di&s;cern
the difference of things. <HI>Judgment,</HI> by
which we affirm of a thing, that it is,
or that it is not. And <HI>Ratiocination,</HI> by
which we draw con&s;equences to evince
the truth or fallacy of a Propo&s;ition
conte&s;ted, by comparing it with one
or more inconte&s;table Propo&s;itions. If
we attend &s;eriou&s;ly to what pa&s;&s;es in our
Mind, we &s;hall find that we do rarely
con&s;ider of things, without making
judgment of them. So that when the&s;e
new Men had furni&s;hed them&s;elves with
words to &s;ignifie the objects of their
Perceptions, they would doubtle&s;s &s;eek
out for words to expre&s;s their Judg|ments,
<PB N="19" REF="17">
that is to &s;ay, <HI>the Action of the
mind, which affirms that a thing is &s;o, or not &s;o.</HI>
And the part in di&s;cour&s;e which expre&s;|&s;es
our Judgment, is called a Propo&s;ition,
which Propo&s;ition does nece&s;&s;arily com|prehend
two Terms, the <HI>Subject</HI> and the
<HI>Attribute:</HI> The <HI>Subject</HI> is <HI>That of which
we affirm:</HI> The <HI>Attribute</HI> is <HI>That which
is affirmed of the thing.</HI> As in this Pro|po&s;ition:
<HI>God is ju&s;t; God</HI> is the <HI>Subject;
Ju&s;t</HI> is the <HI>Attribute,</HI> it being the thing
affirmed, or attributed to the <HI>Subject</HI>
of the Propo&s;ition. Be&s;ides the&s;e two,
there is in every Propo&s;ition another
Term, which couples the <HI>Subject</HI> with
the <HI>Attribute,</HI> and &s;ignifies that Action
of the Mind by which we judge, affir|ming
the <HI>Attribute</HI> of the <HI>Subject;</HI> and
the Terms which expre&s;s this Action,
are in all Languages called <HI>Verbs. Verbs,</HI>
as is ob&s;erved by a judicious Gramma|rian,
are words which &s;ignifie affir|mation.
A &s;ingle word would &s;uffice
to &s;ignifie all the like operations of our
judgment, as the Verb <HI>E&s;&s;e,</HI> which is
the natural and ordinary &s;ign of affir|mation.
But if we judge of the&s;e new
Men, by tho&s;e who have lived in all
<PB N="20" REF="18">
former Ages, the de&s;ire of contracting
their di&s;cour&s;e, would prompt them to
make one word &s;ignifie both the affir|mation
and attribute, according to the
practice in many Languages, where
infinite numbers of words doth denote
both the affirmation and the thing affir|med.
For example, <HI>I read</HI> imports an
affirmation, and the action which I
perform when I read, at the &s;ame time.
The&s;e words, as is &s;aid before, are
called <HI>Verbs.</HI> And when, in &s;ome Lan|guages,
they take from them the power
of &s;ignifying affirmation, they dege|nerate
into the nature of Nouns, and
are u&s;ed accordingly, as when in <HI>French</HI>
we &s;ay, <HI>le boire, le manger.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Pronouns.
With one &s;ingle Verb we may be able to
expre&s;s an entire Propo&s;ition.</HEAD>
<P>THe frequent repetition of the &s;ame
words being di&s;agreeable and trou|ble&s;ome,
<PB N="21" REF="18">
and we in the mean time ob|liged
to &s;peak often of the &s;ame thing;
to rectifie that inconvenience, in all
Languages that are know to us, there
are certain words e&s;tabli&s;hed which are
called Pronouns, and their number is
three: The fir&s;t implies the per&s;on &s;pea|king,
as <HI>I;</HI> the &s;econd, the per&s;on to
whom we &s;peak, as <HI>You;</HI> the third, the
per&s;on or thing of which we &s;peak, as
<HI>He, That.</HI> The&s;e Pronouns have two
Numbers, as the Nouns. The Pronoun
of the fir&s;t Per&s;on, in the plural Num|ber,
implies the per&s;ons &s;peaking, as
<HI>We;</HI> the Pronoun of the &s;econd Per&s;on,
in the plural Number, implies the per|&s;ons
to whom we &s;peak, as <HI>Ye;</HI> and
the Pronoun of the third Per&s;on, in the
plural Number, implies the per&s;ons or
things of which we &s;peak, as <HI>They,
Tho&s;e.</HI></P>
<P>Again, to avoid the inconvenient repe|tition
of the&s;e Pronouns, w^c^h otherwi&s;e
would often occur; in the ancient Lan|guages
they added certain Terminations
to their <HI>Verbs,</HI> which &s;upplied the place
of the&s;e Pronouns, by which means a
&s;ingle <HI>Verb</HI> became &s;ufficient to make
<PB N="22" REF="19">
an entire Propo&s;ition; &s;o this Verb
<HI>Verbero,</HI> comprehends the &s;en&s;e of this
whole Propo&s;ition, <HI>Ego &s;um verberans:</HI>
And be&s;ides that this Verb intimates
the affirmation, and the thing affirm'd,
it &s;ignifies al&s;o the per&s;on beating, who
is the per&s;on that &s;peaks of him&s;elf;
and the rea&s;on is, becau&s;e the Verb has
a Termination that &s;upplies the place
of the Pronoun of the fir&s;t Per&s;on.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the Ten&s;es of Verbs.</HEAD>
<P>VVHat is affirmed of the Subject
of a Propo&s;ition, is either
pa&s;t, pre&s;ent, or to come. The
different inflexions of Verbs, have
power to denote the circum&s;tance of
time belonging to the thing affirmed.
The circum&s;tances of time are very
numerous: We may con&s;ider the time
pa&s;t with reference to the pre&s;ent, as
when I &s;ay, <HI>I was reading when he en|tred
into my Chamber.</HI> The act of my
reading is pa&s;t, in regard of the time
<PB N="23" REF="19">
in which I &s;peak; but I &s;ignifie the time
pre&s;ent, in regard of the thing of
which I &s;peak, which is the entrance
of &s;uch a man. We may al&s;o con&s;ider
the time pa&s;t, with reference to ano|ther
time pa&s;t, as <HI>I had &s;upp'd when he
came in.</HI> Both which actions are pa&s;t,
in re&s;pect of one another. We may
con&s;ider the time pa&s;t two ways, as
definite, or indefinite: We may &s;peak
preci&s;ely, when an action was done; or
we may only &s;ay, it was done. We
con&s;ider the Future Ten&s;e in the &s;ame
manner, u&s;ing &s;ometimes a preci&s;e and
definite term, and &s;ometimes an inde|finite,
without any limitation.</P>
<P>In this new Language that is pro|pos'd,
we cannot tell whether all the
different circum&s;tances of times would
be expre&s;s'd by &s;o many different in|flexions,
becau&s;e we do not find the
people have di&s;tingui&s;hed with the &s;ame
exactne&s;s all the circum&s;tances of time.
The <HI>Hebrew</HI> Verbs have only two Ten|&s;es,
the Preter Ten&s;e, and the Future
Ten&s;e: They have but two inflexions
to expre&s;s the diver&s;ity of times. They
make u&s;e of the inflexion of the Future
<PB N="24" REF="20">
Ten&s;e, to &s;ignifie the Pre&s;ent Ten&s;e.
The <HI>Greeks</HI> are more exact, their Verbs
have all the Ten&s;es afore&s;aid. Yet I
doubt not, but the Terms of this new
Language would bear at lea&s;t the &s;igns
of &s;ome of the&s;e circum&s;tances, &s;eeing
in every Propo&s;ition the time of the
Attribute is to be determined; and the
de&s;ire to abbreviate our di&s;cour&s;e, is na|tural
to all men. When I &s;ay, <HI>I &s;hall
love,</HI> the inflexion of the Future Ten&s;e
that I give to that Verb, ea&s;es me of
the trouble of this long Phra&s;e, <HI>It will
happen &s;ome time or other that I &s;hall be
in love.</HI> When I &s;ay, <HI>I have loved,</HI> the
inflexion of the Preterperfect Ten&s;e
&s;aves me &s;everal of the&s;e Words, <HI>There
was formerly a time when I was in love.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="25" REF="20">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">By Verbs may be &s;ignified the divers
manners of affirming, and certain
circum&s;tances of the action which
they imply.</HEAD>
<P>VErbs have their Moods, that is to
&s;ay, they &s;ignifie, be&s;ides the cir|cum&s;tances
of time, the manner of
the affirmation. The fir&s;t is the <HI>Indi|cative</HI>
Mood, which demon&s;trates &s;im|ply
what we affirm. The &s;econd is the
<HI>Imperative,</HI> and implies a command to
&s;uch a one to do &s;uch a thing. The
third is the <HI>Optative,</HI> a Mood of great
u&s;e among the <HI>Greeks,</HI> and intimating
an ardent de&s;ire that &s;uch a thing may
happen. The fourth is the <HI>Subjunctive,</HI>
&s;o called, becau&s;e it has always &s;ome
condition annexed to what we affirm,
as <HI>I &s;hould love him, if he did love me.</HI>
If that condition were not in&s;erted after
the Subjunctive, the &s;en&s;e would be
doubtful. The fifth Mood is the <HI>Infini|tive;</HI>
<PB N="26" REF="21">
a Verb in this Mood has a large
and undetermined &s;ignification, as <HI>To
drink, to eat, to be beloved, to be beaten,
&amp;c.</HI> We &s;hall &s;ee hereafter that <HI>Infini|tive</HI>
Verbs are u&s;ed principally for the
coupling and connexion of two Propo|&s;itions.
A <HI>Participle</HI> may be &s;aid to be
a &s;ixth Mood. A <HI>Verb</HI> in its <HI>Participle</HI>
&s;ignifies only the thing affirmed, and
not the affirmation; and therefore they
are called <HI>Participles,</HI> becau&s;e they par|ticipate
both of the Verb and of the
Noun, &s;ignifying the thing affirmed
by the Verb, without any affirmation.
The Participle <HI>Beaten</HI> imports as much
as the Verb <HI>To beat,</HI> yet he who &s;ays
<HI>Beaten,</HI> affirms nothing, unle&s;s it be
added or under&s;tood <HI>He is,</HI> or <HI>He has been
beaten.</HI></P>
<P>All Verbs (except <HI>Sum, Es, E&s;t, E&s;&s;e)</HI>
do comprehend two Idea's, the Idea of
affirmation, and the Idea of &s;ome action
affirmed. An action has commonly
two terms, the fir&s;t <HI>&agrave; quo,</HI> the &s;econd
<HI>ad quem.</HI> In an action we con&s;ider the
Author that acts, and the Per&s;on upon
whom: The fir&s;t is called the <HI>Agent,</HI>
the &s;econd the <HI>Patient.</HI> It is nece&s;&s;ary
<PB N="27" REF="21">
to determin the Term of the action of
which we &s;peak, whether it be the
Subject of the Propo&s;ition, of which
we affirm the action, that is either
Agent or Patient; and therefore in an|cient
Languages, the Verbs have gene|rally
two Terminations, and different
inflexions, which di&s;cover whether the
Verb be taken actively or pa&s;&s;ively: As
<HI>Petrus amat,</HI> &amp; <HI>Petrus amatur; Peter
loves,</HI> and <HI>Peter is beloved.</HI> In the fir&s;t
Propo&s;ition, the Verb being active, im|ports
that it is <HI>Peter</HI> that loves; in the
&s;econd Propo&s;ition, the &s;ame Verb,
with a pa&s;&s;ive inflexion, implies that
<HI>Peter</HI> is the Object of that love.</P>
<P>It is not impo&s;&s;ible then, but the
Verbs of this new Language would
have two inflexions, one active,
the other pa&s;&s;ive. 'Tis po&s;&s;ible they
would not comprehend in one &s;ingle
Verb all the various circum&s;tances of
an action; as whether it was done with
diligence, whether performed by the
Author him&s;elf, or whether by an In|&s;trument;
which among the <HI>Hebrews</HI>
was &s;ignified by the various inflexions
of their Verbs. There are a hundred
<PB N="28" REF="22">
&s;everal ways of a Man's expre&s;&s;ing him|&s;elf,
that are not e&s;&s;ential, but peculiar
to certain Languages. I cannot &s;ay
whether our new Society would omit
them, and &s;tick only to tho&s;e which
were e&s;&s;ential, and without which they
could not explain them&s;elves. But my
de&s;ign being only to di&s;play the funda|mental
Rules of the Art of Speaking,
I hold my &s;elf obliged to enlarge only
upon the la&s;t.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What Words are nece&s;&s;ary to expre&s;s
the other Operations of the Mind.</HEAD>
<P>VVE have &s;een how the two fir&s;t
Operations of the Mind are to
be expre&s;&s;ed, that is to &s;ay, our <HI>Per|ception</HI>
and <HI>Judgment.</HI> We come now
to the third, which is our Rea&s;oning
or Argumentation. We argue, when
from one or two clear and evident Pro|po&s;itions,
we conclude the truth or
fal&s;ity of a third Propo&s;ition that is ob|&s;cure
and di&s;putable. As if to prove
<PB N="29" REF="22">
the innocence of <HI>Milo</HI> we &s;hould &s;ay
thus: <HI>It is lawful to repel force by force,</HI>
Milo, <HI>in killing</HI> Clodius, <HI>did only repel
force by force;</HI> Ergo, Milo <HI>did lawfully
kill</HI> Clodius. Rea&s;oning is but an ex|ten&s;ion
of the &s;econd Operation, and a
chaining of two or more Propo&s;itions.
It is evident we have need only of &s;ome
&s;hort words to make this connexion,
as the&s;e Particles, <HI>then, at length, for,
for a&s;much, &s;eeing that,</HI> &amp;c. Some Phi|lo&s;ophers
will have a fourth Operation
of the Mind, and they call it <HI>Method,</HI>
by which they range and di&s;po&s;e their
Arguments into order. This di&s;po&s;i|tion
and order may be expre&s;&s;ed by cer|tain
Particles.</P>
<P>The other Actions of our Mind, by
which we di&s;tingui&s;h, divide, compare,
connect, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> are reducible to one of
the&s;e four Operations, and are expre&s;&s;ed
by certain Particles, which receive dif|ferent
denominations, according to the
difference of their office. Tho&s;e who&s;e
office it is to unite, are called <HI>Copula|tives,</HI>
as <HI>Et.</HI> Tho&s;e which divide, are
called <HI>Negatives,</HI> or <HI>Adver&s;atives,</HI> as
<HI>Not, But.</HI> Others are conditional, as
<PB N="30" REF="23">
<HI>If,</HI> &amp;c. The&s;e Particles do not &s;ignifie
the Objects of our Thoughts, but &s;ome
particular Action of the Mind, as we
have &s;aid before. Di&s;cour&s;e is but a
connexion or continuation of &s;everal
Propo&s;itions; and therefore Men have
&s;ought out ways of &s;ignifying the con|nexion
of &s;everal Propo&s;itions. Our
<HI>That</HI> an&s;wers the <GAP DESC="foreign"> of the <HI>Greeks,</HI> and
performs that office, as when we &s;ay,
<HI>I know that God is ju&s;t,</HI> 'tis evident the
word <HI>That</HI> unites the two Propo&s;itions
<HI>I know,</HI> and <HI>God is ju&s;t;</HI> &s;howing al&s;o
that the &s;aid Propo&s;itions were united
in our Minds. Sometimes for &s;hortne&s;s
&s;ake the Verb in the &s;econd Propo&s;ition
is u&s;ed in the Infinitive Mood, and 'tis
one of the greate&s;t u&s;es of the Infini|tive,
to couple two Propo&s;itions in that
manner.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="6" TYPE="section">
<PB N="31" REF="23">
<HEAD>VI.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Con&s;truction of Words, and Rules
for that Con&s;truction.</HEAD>
<P>HAving found all the Terms of a
Language, the next thing to be
con&s;ider'd is the array or di&s;po&s;ition of
tho&s;e Terms. If the words which com|prehend
a Propo&s;ition, do not carry
marks and tokens to &s;ignifie the con|nexion
which they ought to have; and
if we perceive not their &s;cope, the
di&s;cour&s;e produces no rea&s;onable &s;en&s;e
in the Mind of the Auditor. Among
the Nouns, as we have &s;aid before, &s;ome
&s;ignifie the things, and others the man|ner
of tho&s;e things. The fir&s;t are called
<HI>Sub&s;tantives,</HI> the &s;econd are called <HI>Ad|jectives.</HI>
In like manner, as the Modes
of Being, appertain to the Being it &s;elf,
the Adjectives ought to depend upon
the Sub&s;tantives, and carry the marks
of their dependance. In a Propo&s;ition,
the Term that is the Attribute of it,
<PB N="32" REF="24">
refers to the Subject of it, and that
reference ought to be expre&s;&s;ed.</P>
<P>The Nouns of all known Languages
are di&s;tingui&s;hed by different Termina|tions,
in two Genders: The fir&s;t is
called the <HI>Ma&s;culine,</HI> the &s;econd the <HI>Fe|minine.</HI>
The incon&s;tancy of cu&s;tom is
very &s;trange in this di&s;tribution, &s;ome|times
the Gender has been determined
by the Sex, and the Names of Men,
and every thing belonging to them,
were of the Ma&s;culine Gender. The
Names of Women, and all things re|lating
to them, were of the Feminine,
with regard only to the &s;ignification:
And another time, without con&s;idering
either the &s;ignification or termination,
it has given to Nouns what Gender it
plea&s;ed. Nouns Adjectives, and other
words, which &s;ignifie rather the man|ners
of things, than the things them|&s;elves,
have u&s;ually two terminations;
one Ma&s;culine, the other Feminine:
The <HI>Hebrew</HI> Verbs are capable of diffe|rent
Genders, as well as their Nouns.</P>
<P>The difference of Genders &s;erves to
denote the connexion of the members
of Di&s;cour&s;e, and their dependance one
<PB N="33" REF="24">
upon another. Adjectives have always
the &s;ame Gender with their Sub&s;tan|tives;
that is to &s;ay, if the Noun Sub|&s;tantive
be Ma&s;culine, the Adjective has
a Ma&s;culine Termination; and it is that
Termination that &s;hows to which it
belongs. When a Thing is multiplied,
its manners of being are multiplied
al&s;o; and therefore the Adjectives are
likewi&s;e to follow the Number of their
Sub&s;tantives, whether Singular or Plu|ral.
Verbs have two Numbers like
the Nouns: In the Singular, they imply
that the Subject of the Propo&s;ition is
&s;ingle: In the Plural, they imply a plu|rality
in the Subject: And therefore
Verbs are to be put in the &s;ame Num|ber
with the Noun that is the Subject
of the Propo&s;ition, whether it be ex|pre&s;&s;ed
or under&s;tood.</P>
<P>Men are &s;ometimes &s;o 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 di&s;cour&s;e by the
things: They place the Verb in the
Plural, though it agree with a Noun
of the Singular Number, becau&s;e they
<PB N="34" REF="25">
look upon the Noun collectively, and
importing an Idea of Plurality; as in
<HI>Virgil, Pars Mer&s;i tenuere ratem,</HI> for
<HI>Pars Mer&s;a tenuit ratem;</HI> becau&s;e with|out
re&s;pect to the word <HI>Pars,</HI> which is
of the Feminine Gender and Singular
Number, he &s;peaks of Men, which are
the Ma&s;culine and Plural Number. So
in <HI>French</HI> at Six of the clock we &s;ay, <HI>Il
e&s;t &s;ix heures,</HI> con&s;idering the &s;ix hours
as a determined point of time. Some|times
we omit, or neglect a word, that
tho&s;e to whom we &s;peak may &s;upply it,
as in <HI>Latin</HI> where it is &s;aid <HI>Tri&s;te Lupus
&s;tabulis,</HI> the word <HI>negotium</HI> is under|&s;tood.</P>
<P>Figures, are extraordinary ways of
&s;peaking. There are Figures of Rhe|torick,
and Figures of Grammar: Rhe|torical
Figures expre&s;s the commotions
and violent agitations of the Mind, in
our pa&s;&s;ions; or form an agreeable ca|dence.
Figures Grammatical are u&s;ed
in con&s;truction when we digre&s;s from
ordinary Rules, as in this manner of
expre&s;&s;ion we now mention, which by
the Grammarians is called <HI>Syllep&s;is,</HI> or
<HI>Conceptio,</HI> becau&s;e in that, we conceive
<PB N="35" REF="25">
the &s;en&s;e otherwi&s;e than is imported by
the words, and &s;o the con&s;truction is
made accordingly. Sometimes we may
make u&s;e of different expre&s;&s;ions which
give the &s;ame <HI>Idea,</HI> &s;o that 'tis indiffe|rent
which of them we u&s;e, as <HI>Dare
cla&s;&s;ibus au&s;tros,</HI> or <HI>Dare cla&s;&s;es au&s;tris:</HI>
And when of the&s;e two ways of &s;pea|king,
we make choice of that which
is lea&s;t u&s;ed, we call it <HI>Hypallage,</HI> or <HI>Im|mutation.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">We mu&s;t expre&s;s all the principal Idea's
or Images that are formed in our
Mind.</HEAD>
<P>VVHen all the Images that are
formed in the Mind of the
Speaker, are not legible and plain, his
Di&s;cour&s;e is imperfect. When we &s;peak
<PB N="36" REF="26">
therefore, it is nece&s;&s;ary that every one
of tho&s;e Idea's which we de&s;ire to com|municate,
have &s;ome &s;ign or other to
repre&s;ent it in our Di&s;cour&s;e. But we
mu&s;t ob&s;erve likewi&s;e, that there are
words which have the power of &s;ignify|ing
&s;everal things, and are able, be&s;ides
their principal Idea's, to awaken many
others.</P>
<P>Nouns, in Languages that admit of
different Ca&s;es, do &s;ignifie at the &s;ame
time both the things and their referen|ces,
as is &s;aid before. Verbs have a
power of &s;ignifying a whole Propo|&s;ition,
the Subject, Attribute, and <HI>Co|pula.</HI>
When all our Idea's are expre&s;&s;ed
with their connexion, 'tis not po&s;&s;ible
to under&s;tand all that we think, unle&s;s
we give our thoughts &s;uch &s;igns as are
nece&s;&s;ary: For which rea&s;on, they &s;peak
mo&s;t clearly and intelligibly, who &s;peak
mo&s;t &s;imply, and mo&s;t according to the
natural order and impre&s;&s;ions upon their
Mind.</P>
<P>'Tis true, that Di&s;cour&s;e is tedious,
where we give to every thing that we
de&s;ire to &s;ignifie, particular terms; 'tis
tyre&s;ome to the hearer, if he has but com|mon
<PB N="37" REF="26">
capacity. Be&s;ides, our ardour
and impatience to communicate our
thoughts, will not endure &s;o great a
number of words: When it is po&s;&s;ible,
we chu&s;e rather to explain our &s;elves
by a &s;ingle word, and do therefore &s;e|lect
&s;uch terms as may excite &s;everal
Idea's, and by con&s;equence &s;upply the
place of words; and we retrench &s;uch,
as being omitted, cannot produce ob|&s;curity.
The Rule to be ob&s;erved, is,
to have a particular regard to the capa|city
of the per&s;on to whom we &s;peak;
if his parts be but indifferent, we mu&s;t
&s;peak every thing expre&s;ly, and leave
nothing to his divination.</P>
<P>The <HI>Ellip&s;is</HI> or retrenchment of &s;ome
part of our Di&s;cour&s;e, is a Grammati|cal
Figure, as in this <HI>Latin</HI> Expre&s;&s;ion,
<HI>Paucis te volo,</HI> in which the&s;e words,
<HI>verbis alloqui,</HI> are left out. This Figure
is very common in the Oriental Lan|guages:
The People of tho&s;e Coun|tries
being hot, and quick, their ar|dour
and vehemence will not permit
them to &s;peak any thing <HI>in terminis</HI> that
may be as well under&s;tood. The <HI>French</HI>
Language u&s;es not this kind of Figure
<PB N="38" REF="27">
&s;o frequently, nor indeed any other of
the Grammatical Figures: It affects
clearne&s;s and per&s;picuity, and there|fore
as near as po&s;&s;ible, expre&s;&s;es every
thing in the &s;imple&s;t and mo&s;t natural
order.</P>
<P>When we &s;peak, we ought particu|larly
to con&s;ider the principal things,
and make choice for them of &s;uch Ex|pre&s;&s;ions,
as may make deepe&s;t impre&s;|&s;ions
in the Mind of the Hearer, either
by the multitude of Idea's they contain,
or otherwi&s;e. A Painter draws the
principal Lines of his Picture gro&s;s,
and then heightens it with his colours;
in the mean time &s;weetning and refi|ning
his other &s;trokes, that their &s;oft|ne&s;s
and ob&s;curity may &s;et off the lu&s;tre
of the other. Trifling things, that
are not e&s;&s;ential to Di&s;cour&s;e, &s;hould be
mentioned by the By: 'Twould &s;how
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 tho&s;e very different) of tran&s;gre&s;|&s;ing
in our choice of Expre&s;&s;ions: The
one is, when we are too diffu&s;e and
<PB N="39" REF="27">
prodigal; the other, when we are too
&s;paring and dry. The la&s;t repre&s;ents only
the carka&s;s of things; and are like the
fir&s;t Touches in a Picture, by which the
Painter marks only the places where
he de&s;igns the Eyes, Mouth, Ears, <HI>&amp;c.</HI>
The fir&s;t by its &s;ecundity and redun|dance
perplexes as much on the other
&s;ide. A ju&s;t temperament is to be ob|&s;erved
therefore. When the Painter
has perfected his nece&s;&s;ary &s;trokes, all
that he adds afterwards does but &s;poil
what he did before. Words that are
&s;uperfluous, do but render the nece&s;&s;ary
more ob&s;cure, and hinder their impre&s;|&s;ion;
they tyre the Ear, and never reach
the Memory.</P>
<Q>Omne &s;upervacuum pleno de pectore manat.</Q>
<P>Politene&s;s con&s;i&s;ts partly in a &s;trict
retrenchment of unnece&s;&s;ary words,
which are as it were the Excrements
of Di&s;cour&s;e: A thing is poli&s;h'd, when
the little rugged particles are taken
away with the File, and the &s;urface
made &s;mooth and even. This repeti|tion
of words, which &s;erves only to
<PB N="40" REF="28">
lengthen out di&s;cour&s;e, and tyre the
Reader, is called by the Grammarians
<HI>Tautology.</HI> When di&s;cour&s;e is fill'd up
with unnece&s;&s;ary and &s;uperfluous words,
it is called <HI>Peri&s;&s;ology.</HI> Neverthele&s;s we
are not obliged to &s;uch frugality, that
we &s;hould be affraid to add one word
more than is nece&s;&s;ary, as when in <HI>Latin</HI>
we &s;ay <HI>vivere vitam, auribus audire:</HI>
This is an Elegancy &s;ometimes, and
called a <HI>Pleona&s;mus,</HI> expre&s;&s;ing a vehe|mency
in us, and a greater certainty
in the thing.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What ought to be the order or di&s;po|&s;ition
of Words.</HEAD>
<P>AS to the ordering of Words, and
the Rules to be ob&s;erved in ran|ging
a Di&s;cour&s;e, Natural Light di|rects
us &s;o clearly, that no Man can
be ignorant. We cannot conceive the
&s;en&s;e of a di&s;cour&s;e, if we do not under|&s;tand
the matter of it fir&s;t.</P>
<P><PB N="41" REF="28">
Natural order requires therefore, that
in every Propo&s;ition the Noun that
&s;ignifies the Subject of it, be placed fir&s;t:
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 in&s;erted betwixt them:
That the Words which make the con|nexion
may be found betwixt the two
Propo&s;itions.</P>
<P>And this, as near as we can, is the
Natural Order to be commonly ob&s;erv'd
in Di&s;cour&s;e. I &s;ay commonly, becau&s;e
in &s;ome ca&s;es we may tran&s;gre&s;s with
advantage; and this tran&s;gre&s;&s;ion is an
ornament among the Grammarians, and
a Figure called <HI>Hyperbaton:</HI> Of which
&s;ort <HI>Virgil</HI> has one in the&s;e Ver&s;es:
<Q><L>Furit immi&s;&s;is Vulcanus habenis</L>
<L>Tran&s;tra per &amp; Remos.</L></Q>
The Prepo&s;ition <HI>per</HI> being out of its
natural place.</P>
<P>When we reject a word to the end
<PB N="42" REF="29">
of a Propo&s;ition, without which word
the &s;en&s;e of the Propo&s;ition is imper|fect,
the interruption which the Reader
receives, makes him more attentive;
his de&s;ire of under&s;tanding it grows
more vehement and ardent, and his
impatience makes his conception the
clearer. Be&s;ides, this little tran&s;gre&s;&s;ion
does many times make the Propo&s;ition
&s;trong and intellible; for the Reader,
to under&s;tand the &s;en&s;e of it, being ob|liged
to meditate and con&s;ider all the
parts together, that con&s;ideration im|pre&s;&s;es
him the more. For this rea&s;on
no doubt the <HI>Romans</HI> and the <HI>Greeks</HI> did
frequently put the Verb at the end of
the Propo&s;ition, and having the au|thority
of cu&s;tom, it is not altogether
to be blamed: But he who intends to
write clearly and &s;imply, mu&s;t ob&s;erve
Natural Order as much as in him lies:
I &s;ay as much as in him lies, becau&s;e
&s;ometimes we are obliged to tran&s;gre&s;s,
to avoid the concurrence of certain
rough words that will not admit of
conjunction.</P>
<P>This array and di&s;po&s;ition of words, is
well worth our &s;erious application: And
<PB N="43" REF="29">
we may affirm, that it is by this Art
of well placing their words, that tho&s;e
excellent Orators have di&s;tingui&s;hed
them&s;elves 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 Ora|tors.</P>
<Q><L>Dixeris egregi&egrave;, notum &s;i callida verbum</L>
<L>Reddiderit junctura novum&mdash;</L></Q>
<P>I &s;peak not here of that di&s;po&s;ition
of words, which renders a Di&s;cour&s;e
harmonious, but of that which renders
it clear. Clearne&s;s without doubt de|pends
much upon Natural Order; and
whatever interrupts that Order, per|plexes
our Di&s;cour&s;e. But there are
many Errours oppo&s;ed to this Natural
Order, and by con&s;equence to that clear|ne&s;s
that ought to be ob&s;erved. The
fir&s;t is the <HI>Hyperbaton,</HI> or too bold and
frequent tran&s;po&s;ition of words. Our
Language is &s;o great a Lover of clear|ne&s;s,
that it admits none of tho&s;e tran&s;|gre&s;&s;ions.
<PB N="44" REF="30">
It would not be Elegant to
&s;ay, <HI>There is no man, who more than he,
may ju&s;tly promi&s;e him&s;elf glory:</HI> We are
rather to &s;ay, <HI>There is no man, who more
ju&s;tly than he, may promi&s;e him&s;elf glory.</HI>
A &s;econd Vice con&s;i&s;ts in the multitude
and huddle of words, when we ex|pre&s;s
our thoughts by long and tedious
circumlocutions, or in&s;ert words that
are altogether unnece&s;&s;ary, as thus:
<HI>In this, many people do continually and
wonderfully abu&s;e their lei&s;ure:</HI> This Ex|pre&s;&s;ion
is confu&s;ed, and it would be
much better to cut off what is &s;uper|fluous,
reducing it to the&s;e terms: <HI>In
this, many abu&s;e their lei&s;ure.</HI> Another
defect is, when we do not exactly ob|&s;erve
the Rules of <HI>Syntax</HI> or Con&s;tru|ction.
Other terms there are, who&s;e
&s;ignification being vagous and indefi|nite,
cannot be determined but by their
relation to &s;ome other term. When
we make u&s;e of &s;uch terms, and do not
&s;ignifie their reference, we make our
Propo&s;itions doubtful and equivocal.
As if I &s;hould &s;ay, <HI>He always loved &s;uch
a per&s;on in his affliction;</HI> it would be
equivocal, becau&s;e the Reader would
<PB N="45" REF="30">
not be able to determin to whom the
Pronoun <HI>his</HI> related, whether to the
per&s;on who loved, or the per&s;on in
affliction; which fault would be very
con&s;iderable. There is another thing
al&s;o, that is a great enemy to clearne&s;s,
and that is, when our Expre&s;&s;ions &s;eem
to look one way, and are intended ano|ther,
as in this An&s;wer of the Oracle:
<Q>Aiote, Aeacida, Romanos vincere po&s;&s;e.</Q>
<HI>Pyrrhus,</HI> the Son of <HI>Aeacus,</HI> to whom
this An&s;wer was addre&s;&s;ed, under&s;tood
it thus, <HI>O Son of</HI> Aeacus, <HI>I &s;ay you may
overcome the</HI> Romans: Whereas it was
meant, that the <HI>Romans</HI> &s;hould over|come
him. This defect is called by the
<HI>Greeks, Amphibologia.</HI> Be&s;ides the&s;e,
long <HI>Parenthe&s;es,</HI> and too frequent, are
neither decent nor convenient, as may
be ob&s;erved too often in &s;everal Authors.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="46" REF="31">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">How we may expre&s;s the Pa&s;sions and
Motions of our Mind.</HEAD>
<P>ALL that pa&s;&s;es in our Minds, is
either action or pa&s;&s;ion. We have
&s;een already which way we may ex|pre&s;s
our actions: Let us now &s;ee what
Nature dictates to &s;ignifie our pa&s;&s;ions,
that is, to &s;ignifie the e&s;teem, con|tempt,
love, or hatred we bear to
things, which &s;hould be the objects of
our thoughts and our affections. Our
Di&s;cour&s;e is imperfect, unle&s;s it carry
with it the marks of the Motions of
our Will: It re&s;embles our Mind (who&s;e
Image it ought to bear) no more
than a dead Carka&s;s re&s;embles a living
Body. To re&s;olve therefore, what our
new Men would be obliged to do to
expre&s;s their pa&s;&s;ions, let us &s;ee what
we our &s;elves &s;hould do, had we the
&s;ame parts in that Comedy.</P>
<P>There are Names which have two
<PB N="47" REF="31">
Idea's: That which may be called the
principal Idea, repre&s;ents the thing &s;ig|nified.
The other (which may be ter|med
the acce&s;&s;ory) repre&s;ents it as in|ve&s;ted
with &s;uch and &s;uch circum&s;tan|ces.
For example, the word <HI>Lyar</HI> im|plies
a per&s;on reprehended for not
&s;peaking the truth; but it imports like|wi&s;e
that the per&s;on reprehended is
e&s;teemed an ill per&s;on, one who has
cunningly or maliciou&s;ly concealed the
truth, and therefore de&s;erves our hatred
and contempt.</P>
<P>The&s;e &s;econd Idea's, which we have
called acce&s;&s;ories, are annexed to the
Names of things, and to their princi|pal
Idea's, in this manner: When cu|&s;tom
has obtained, that we &s;peak with
certain terms of what we e&s;teem, the&s;e
terms do in&s;tantly a&s;&s;ume an Idea of
Grandeur: In &s;o much that a per&s;on no
&s;ooner makes u&s;e of tho&s;e terms, but
we conceive he has an e&s;teem for tho&s;e
things of which he &s;peaks. When we
&s;peak in pa&s;&s;ion, the air of our looks,
the tone of our voice, and &s;everal other
circum&s;tances, are &s;ufficient to &s;ignifie
our commotion. And the very words,
<PB N="48" REF="32">
of which we make u&s;e upon tho&s;e oc|ca&s;ions,
may afterwards of them&s;elves
renew the Idea of tho&s;e commotions:
As when we have often &s;een one of our
Friends in a certain habit, the &s;ame
&s;ort of habit is capable of reviving the
Idea of our Friend. All proper Names
of Natural things have their acce&s;&s;ory
Idea's, but they are &s;mutty and ob&s;cene:
For loo&s;e and debauched people &s;peaking
of the&s;e things in an unu&s;ual and im|mode&s;t
way, the foul images of their
thoughts, are annexed to the very
words; and therefore we may take up
the &s;ame complaint, that was long &s;ince
made by a wi&s;e Pagan, and &s;ay, <HI>Hone&s;ta
nomina perdidimus.</HI></P>
<P>So then, the words them&s;elves contra|cting
acce&s;&s;ory Idea's that repre&s;ent the
things, and the manner in which tho&s;e
things are conceived, our new Gentle|men
would have no trouble to invent
new words to &s;ignifie the&s;e acce&s;&s;ory
Idea's. It would plainly appear, that
in their new Language there would be
terms &s;ufficient to expre&s;s the different
Motions, as the love, hatred, e&s;teem,
contempt, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> of the Speaker. And
<PB N="49" REF="32">
moreover (as we &s;hall demon&s;trate here|after)
our Pa&s;&s;ions do often de&s;cribe
them&s;elves in our Di&s;cour&s;e, and form
their own Characters without &s;tudy or
Art.</P>
<P>We have &s;een what Men are obliged
to do of nece&s;&s;ity, to &s;ignifie their
thoughts; let us now &s;ee what depends
upon their choice. Having all of us
one and the &s;ame Nature, (be the Lan|guage
that we &s;peak what it will) we
follow all tho&s;e Rules which we have
&s;hown to be Natural, and E&s;&s;ential to
the Art of Speaking. But it is yet in
our power to chu&s;e, among the infinite
variety of words, what we think good;
and this liberty is it that has changed
all the ancient Languages, and does
&s;till refine or impair them every day.</P>
<P>Diver&s;ity of Languages is incommo|dious,
and a great impediment to So|ciety
and Trade. Some per&s;ons have
anciently propo&s;ed to make an Univer|&s;al
Language, which might be learnt
in a &s;hort time, and be common to the
whole World. I conceive the great
Secret of tho&s;e Undertakers lay in ma|king
that Language to con&s;i&s;t of few
<PB N="50" REF="33">
words: They would have had every
thing expre&s;&s;ed by one &s;ingle term, and
that term, with &s;ome little alteration,
&s;hould have &s;ignified all other things
that had reference to it. They would
have made all their Nouns indeclinable,
denoting their different ca&s;es by Par|ticles,
and their three Genders by three
Terminations. They would have had
but two Conjugations, one to &s;ignifie
the active, and the other the pa&s;&s;ive:
Nor &s;hould their Ten&s;es have had diffe|rent
Terminations in&s;tead of Pronouns.
By which the whole Grammar of that
Language might have been quickly and
ea&s;ily learned.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Cu&s;tom is the Ma&s;ter of all Language.</HEAD>
<P>CU&s;tom is the Ma&s;ter and Soveraign
Arbiter of all Languages. No
<PB N="51" REF="33">
Man can di&s;pute its Empire, as being
e&s;tabli&s;hed by Nece&s;&s;ity, and confirmed
by Univer&s;al Con&s;ent. It is of the na|ture
of a Sign&punc; to be known to tho&s;e
who make u&s;e of it. Words are &s;igns
of tho&s;e Idea's to which they have been
formerly joyned. It is nece&s;&s;ary there|fore
to employ them only for the &s;ig|nification
of things, who&s;e &s;ignifica|tions
were known before by the per&s;ons
to whom we &s;peak. We might, if
we plea&s;e, call a <HI>Hor&s;e</HI> a <HI>Dog,</HI> and a Dog
a Hor&s;e; but the Idea of the fir&s;t being
fixt already to the word <HI>Hor&s;e,</HI> and the
latter to the word <HI>Dog,</HI> we cannot
tran&s;po&s;e them, nor take the one for
the other, without an entire confu&s;ion
to the Conver&s;ation of Mankind. It is
ridiculous fanta&s;ticalne&s;s, not to follow
tho&s;e Modes which long Cu&s;tom has
e&s;tabli&s;hed: And it is little le&s;s than
&s;tupidity, when we &s;peak, to leave
the ordinary Methods, and deliver our
thoughts in dark ob&s;olete terms, when
we de&s;ire to impart them.</P>
<P>'Tis the &s;ame thing with us in re&s;pect
of Language, as in re&s;pect of Habit.
Some People pu&s;h on the Modes to the
<PB N="52" REF="34">
highe&s;t extremity: Others with as
much eagerne&s;s and vanity oppo&s;e
them&s;elves again&s;t them. Some People
affect &s;uch terms and expre&s;&s;ions as are
modern or new: Others, digging into
the Dialects of their Great Grand|fathers,
will not &s;peak a word now,
that was not in u&s;e two hundred years
&s;ince. Both of them are too blame.
When Cu&s;tom affords not terms proper
to expre&s;s what we have to &s;ay, it is
lawful to u&s;e &s;uch words as are almo&s;t
antiquated and lo&s;t: Nay a Man is ex|cu&s;able,
if to make him&s;elf under&s;tood,
he coins a new word: In that ca&s;e we
may blame the barrenne&s;s of our Lan|guage,
but mu&s;t commend the fecun|dity
of his Wit that was able to &s;upply
it. <HI>Datur venia verborum novitati, ob|&s;curitati
rerum &s;ervienti.</HI> With this
provi&s;o notwith&s;tanding, that the word
be <HI>a la mode,</HI> and not dre&s;s'd up in a
&s;ound quite differing from the u&s;ual
words.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<PB N="53" REF="34">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">There is a good and a bad Cu&s;tom, and
three ways to di&s;tingui&s;h them.</HEAD>
<P>VVHen we advance Cu&s;tom 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 Cu&s;tom:
And as good Men are the propere&s;t Ex|amples
to tho&s;e who de&s;ire to live well;
&s;o the practice of good Speakers is the
fitte&s;t Rule for tho&s;e who would &s;peak
well. <HI>U&s;um, qui &s;it Arbiter dicendi</HI> (&s;ays
<HI>Quintil.) vocamus con&s;en&s;um eruditorum,
&s;icut vivendi, con&s;en&s;um bonorum.</HI> But it
is no hard matter to di&s;cern betwixt
the good and the bad; betwixt the de|praved
Language of the common peo|ple,
and the noble and refin'd Expre&s;|&s;ions
of the Gentry, who&s;e condition
and merits have advanced them above
the other.</P>
<P><PB N="54" REF="35">
And to make this di&s;tinction, there
are three ways. The fir&s;t is <HI>Experience:</HI>
We are to ob&s;erve tho&s;e who &s;peak
well; we are to con&s;ider the manner
of their expre&s;&s;ions, 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 conver&s;ation,
we have Books, where Men &s;peak com|monly
with more exactne&s;s, having time
and lei&s;ure to correct &s;uch improprieties
as &s;lip unavoidably in di&s;cour&s;e; for the
Memory being full of ill words conti|nually
&s;ounded by the common people,
'tis very hard to be &s;o con&s;tantly upon
our guard, as not to let &s;ome of them
fall from us in conver&s;ation before we
are aware. When we write, we review
what we have done, and expunge &s;uch
expre&s;&s;ions as we find unapt or imper|tinent.</P>
<P>The &s;econd way to di&s;criminate be|twixt
good Cu&s;toms and bad, is <HI>Rea&s;on.</HI>
All Languages have the &s;ame Funda|mentals,
which Men would e&s;tabli&s;h,
if by accident (like that we have pre|tended)
they were obliged to invent a
new Language. By the Notion we
<PB N="55" REF="35">
have given of the&s;e Fundamentals, we
may make our &s;elves Ma&s;ters and Judges
of any Language, and condemn the
Laws of Cu&s;tom where they are oppo|&s;ite
to the Laws of Nature and Rea&s;on.
Though we have no right to e&s;tabli&s;h
new words, we have liberty to reject
&s;uch as are bad. Languages are never
refin'd, 'till Men begin to canva&s;s and
examin them; 'till &s;uch Expre&s;&s;ions are
exploded, as corrupt U&s;e has introduced;
but tho&s;e are not to be found out by
the ordinary people: It mu&s;t be learned
and &s;agacious Men, and Men that have
exact knowledge of this Art. When
ju&s;t and proper Expre&s;&s;ions are u&s;ed,
a Language may be &s;aid to refine, and
the di&s;continuance from &s;peaking ill
fixes the cu&s;tom of &s;peaking well.</P>
<P>Yet in the e&s;tabli&s;hment of Language,
Rea&s;on (as we have &s;hown in the pre|cedent
Chapters) pre&s;cribes but very
few Laws; the re&s;t depend upon the
Will and con&s;ent of Men. In &s;peaking,
the whole World propo&s;es but one end;
but becau&s;e we may arrive at that end
by different ways, the liberty of chu|&s;ing
them as we plea&s;e, cau&s;es difference
<PB N="56" REF="36">
in the manner of expre&s;&s;ion, even in
the &s;ame Language. Neverthele&s;s, not|with&s;tanding
the liberty Authors have
taken in the formation of Language,
we may ob&s;erve a certain uniformity,
and con&s;tant regularity running quite
thorough all our Expre&s;&s;ions. Men do
commonly adhere to &s;uch cu&s;toms as
they have formerly embraced. Where|fore,
though words depend much upon
the fancy and capriccio of Men, yet,
as is &s;aid before, we may di&s;cern a cer|tain
uniformity in Cu&s;tom.</P>
<P>If we know then, that words of
&s;uch a &s;ound, are of &s;uch a Gender;
when we doubt of the Gender of ano|ther
word, we mu&s;t compare it with
words of the &s;ame termination, who&s;e
Gender is known: And &s;o in Verbs,
if I would know (in the <HI>French</HI> Lan|guage)
whether the third per&s;on of the
Preterperfect Ten&s;e of a propo&s;ed Verb
be to end in <HI>a,</HI> I go no farther than to the
Infinitive, and if that ends in <HI>er,</HI> my
bu&s;ine&s;s is done; becau&s;e 'tis evident all
Verbs of that Language, ending in <HI>er</HI>
in the Infinitive, do end with <HI>a</HI> in the
Ten&s;e and per&s;on afore&s;aid.</P>
<P><PB N="57" REF="36">
This way of under&s;tanding the Cu|&s;tom
of a Language, by comparing its
expre&s;&s;ions, and con&s;idering the pro|portion
which they bear one to the
other, is called <HI>Analogie,</HI> which is a
<HI>Greek</HI> word, and &s;ignifies proportion.
By means of their <HI>Analogie,</HI> it is that
Languages have been fix'd: By virtue
of <HI>Analogie</HI> Grammarians have found
out their Rules, and the good Cu&s;toms
of a Language; have compos'd their
Grammars, which, if well made, are
very u&s;eful, as furni&s;hing us with Rules
in &s;hort, which we &s;hould be obliged to
find out by <HI>Analogie</HI> with infinite labour
and diligence.</P>
<P>Of all the three ways for the di&s;co|very
of good Cu&s;tom, Experience is
the be&s;t. Cu&s;tom is always Ma&s;ter:
Our choice mu&s;t be of the mo&s;t rea&s;o|nable
expre&s;&s;ions, and by that choice
Languages are purged of their impu|rities.
But when Cu&s;tom affords but
one &s;ingle word or phra&s;e, to expre&s;s
what we are obliged to &s;ay; Rea&s;on
permits that we give place to Cu&s;tom,
though it be contrary to Rea&s;on; nor
are we to be blam'd at all, if the ex|pre&s;&s;ion
<PB N="58" REF="37">
be bad. This was the occa&s;ion
of that old and true Maxim among the
Lawyers, <HI>Communis error facit jus. A|nalogie</HI>
is not the Mi&s;tre&s;s of Language;
&s;he is not come down from Heaven to
give Laws in that ca&s;e; &s;he de&s;cribes
only the Laws of Cu&s;tom. <HI>Non e&s;t lex
loquendi, &s;ed ob&s;ervatio. Quintil.</HI></P>
<P>To perfectly under&s;tand the Cu&s;toms
of a Language, we mu&s;t inform our
&s;elves of the Genius, and ob&s;erve the
Idioms, or peculiar Manners of Spea|king
which belong to it. The Genius
of a Language con&s;i&s;ts in certain qua|lites,
which tho&s;e who &s;peak do affect
to give to their Stile. The Genius of
the <HI>French</HI> Language is per&s;picuity and
liveline&s;s; in which they differ much
from the Ea&s;tern Nations, who do
rather prefer my&s;terious and enigma|tical
expre&s;&s;ions, that may find work
for the thought. Idioms di&s;tingui&s;h
Languages one from the other, as well
as words. To &s;peak <HI>French,</HI> it is not
enough to make u&s;e of <HI>French</HI> words;
for if we jumble them together, or
di&s;po&s;e them as a <HI>German</HI> would do the
words of his own Language, we &s;hould
<PB N="59" REF="37">
rather &s;peak <HI>Dutch</HI> than <HI>French.</HI> We
call <HI>Hebrai&s;ms,</HI> the Idioms of <HI>Hebrew;
Helleni&s;ms,</HI> the Proprieties of <HI>Greek;</HI>
and &s;o of the re&s;t. 'Tis an <HI>Hebrai&s;m</HI> to
&s;ay <HI>Vanity of Vanities,</HI> in&s;tead of <HI>The
greate&s;t of all Vanities;</HI> as al&s;o to &s;igni|fie
di&s;tribution, by repetition of the
&s;ame word, as in this Sentence: <HI>Noah
put into the Ark &s;even, and &s;even of all
Creatures,</HI> to &s;ignifie that <HI>Noah put into
the Ark &s;even pairs or couples of all Crea|tures.</HI>
'Tis an <HI>Helleni&s;m</HI> to u&s;e the Infi|nitive
in&s;tead of a Noun; and that
Idiom is frequent in our Language,
which has great affinity with the <HI>Greek.</HI>
Expre&s;&s;ions ob&s;olete, rejected by new
cu&s;tom, and to be found only in ancient
Authors, are called <HI>Archai&s;ms.</HI> Every
Province has its Idiom, which it is no
ea&s;ie matter to quit. <HI>Titus Livius,</HI> an
Author of great Eloquence and Purity,
could not clean&s;e his Stile from the im|purities
of <HI>Padua,</HI> where he was born.
<HI>A&s;inius Pollio</HI> tells us: <HI>In Tito Livio, mirae
facundiae viro, puto ine&s;&s;e quandam Pata|vinitatem.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="60" REF="38">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Words are not to be u&s;ed but in their
proper &s;ignification, and to expre&s;s
the Idea to which Cu&s;tom has an|nexed
them.</HEAD>
<P>SInce then we are to &s;ubmit to the
Tyranny of Cu&s;tom, we mu&s;t fol|low
her Laws, and ob&s;erve them &s;trict|ly.
The fir&s;t thing to be con&s;ider'd,
are the particular words, who&s;e pecu|liar
Idea's are to be inquired after ex|actly,
and not imployed but in their pro|per
&s;ignifications, that is to &s;ay, to &s;ig|nifie
exactly the Idea's to which cu&s;tom
has affixed them. Be&s;ides which, we
are to have regard to the acce&s;&s;ory Idea's
that belong to them, otherwi&s;e we &s;hall
be in danger of mi&s;taking, and give
a low and abject Idea to things which
perhaps we de&s;ign to illu&s;trate.</P>
<P>Some are of opinion, that to &s;peak
well, it is &s;ufficient to make u&s;e only
of &s;uch words as are authori&s;ed by
<PB N="61" REF="38">
cu&s;tom, as we have &s;aid before; but
we mu&s;t al&s;o take our words in the
preci&s;e &s;ignification that cu&s;tom affords.
To draw the Picture of the King, 'tis
not enough that we draw a Face with
two Eyes, a No&s;e, and a Mouth; but
we mu&s;t expre&s;s the Features, and par|ticular
Lineaments of the Kings Face.</P>
<P>Some People fancy them&s;elves Elo|quent,
if they can but throng their
Memories with Phra&s;es, huddled toge|ther
out of the Works of &s;uch Per&s;ons
as are renowned for their Eloquence;
but they are mi&s;taken, and tho&s;e who
take that cour&s;e &s;hall never be exact.
They accommodate their Matter to
their Phra&s;e, without con&s;idering in
what place, or upon what occa&s;ion it
was u&s;ed by the Author. So that their
Stile becomes wild and extravagant,
like a Grotte&s;que Picture, patch'd up
of Shells of a thou&s;and &s;everal colours,
and other whim&s;ies, that have not the
lea&s;t natural relation to the Figure repre|&s;ented.</P>
<P>Phra&s;es in Di&s;cour&s;e, like patches in
a Cloke, are great &s;igns of poverty of
the Ma&s;ter: For they &s;erve only to fill
<PB N="62" REF="39">
up void places, and he that abounds
with them, &s;hall never write &s;hort.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">We are to con&s;ider whether the Idea's
of the Words we joyn, may be joyned
as properly.</HEAD>
<P>IT is not enough that we make choice
of proper and familiar terms, unle&s;s
their connexion be rea&s;onable. With|out
that, our Di&s;cour&s;e will have no
more form, than the Letters of a Pre&s;s
thrown by accident upon a Table. For
though the Idea of every word &s;epa|rately
and alone may be &s;ufficiently
clear, yet joyned together, they may
be Non&s;en&s;e, becau&s;e the Idea's to which
they are applied by cu&s;tom, may be in|compatible.
The&s;e two words, <HI>Square,</HI>
and <HI>Round,</HI> are very good, and their
Idea's intelligible: We do readily un|der&s;tand
what it is to be Square, and
what to be Round: But if we &s;hould
&s;ay a <HI>Square Round,</HI> no body could com|prehend
<PB N="63" REF="39">
it. If I &s;hould &s;ay, &s;uch a one was
<HI>&s;hod</HI> with his <HI>gloves,</HI> who could under|&s;tand
it? yet <HI>&s;hod,</HI> and <HI>gloves,</HI> are words
that every Man knows. If when a
Man gets up, I &s;hould bid him <HI>De&s;cend
upon his Hor&s;e,</HI> the &s;tanders by would
think me a Sot. When the repugnance
betwixt the Idea's is not &s;o manife&s;t, and
the connexion of the terms not &s;o pal|pably
condemned by cu&s;tom, as in the&s;e
two expre&s;&s;ions, <HI>&s;hod with gloves,</HI> and
<HI>de&s;cended upon his Hor&s;e,</HI> many people
are not di&s;gu&s;ted. The&s;e following
words being &s;poke in company before
&s;everal per&s;ons, mo&s;t of them would
be taken with their noi&s;e, and not per|ceive
that they carried in them nothing
of &s;en&s;e or &s;ignification: <HI>Noble and brave
Battels that carry high De&s;tinies beyond the
Seas.</HI> The words are good, and intel|ligible
of them&s;elves, but applied in
that manner, they &s;ignifie nothing.</P>
<Q>Accumulation of honours, undermines their
foundation.</Q>
<P>Who can tell what the Author &s;ays
in that Ver&s;e? The Idea's of <HI>accumula|ting</HI>
<PB N="64" REF="40">
and <HI>undermining</HI> are incompatible,
and 'tis not po&s;&s;ible to reconcile them.
We know what the Poet intended,
but he was out in his Expre&s;&s;ion. This
is rather our want of Judgment, than
ignorance of Language; &s;o that to &s;peak
exactly, we mu&s;t &s;tudy as well to adapt
our Judgment as Tongue.</P>
<P>For the Order to be given to words,
when they are joyned together, our
Ears do in&s;truct us &s;o &s;en&s;ibly what
Rules are to be ob&s;erved, that we have
no need to mention them here. Cu&s;tom
does not always ob&s;erve Natural Order
in certain words. It requires that &s;ome
be placed fir&s;t, and others follow at a
di&s;tance. The Ear being u&s;ed to the&s;e
kinds of array, perceives the lea&s;t
tran&s;gre&s;&s;ion, and is offended at it. We
are more di&s;turbed at a thing ungrateful
to our Sen&s;es, than to our Rea&s;on:
Non&s;en&s;e, or an Errour in arguing,
would be le&s;s abominable, than if a
Man &s;hould tran&s;po&s;e his words, and
&s;ay <HI>Head my,</HI> for <HI>my Head.</HI> And this is
a fault &s;o vi&s;ible, 'tis not worth an ad|moni&s;hment.</P>
<P>A Di&s;cour&s;e is pure, when we follow
<PB N="65" REF="40">
the be&s;t Cu&s;tom, when we u&s;e what it
approves, and reject what it condemns.
The Vices oppo&s;ed to this Purity, are
<HI>Barbari&s;ms,</HI> and <HI>Soleci&s;ms.</HI> The Gram|marians
do not agree about the defi|nition
of the&s;e two Vices. Mon&s;ieur
<HI>de Vaugelas</HI> applies <HI>Barbari&s;m</HI> only to
Words, Phra&s;es, and Particles; and
<HI>Soleci&s;m</HI> to Declen&s;ions, Conjugations,
and Con&s;truction. We commit a <HI>Bar|bari&s;m</HI>
in u&s;ing a word for <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> that
is not <HI>Engli&s;h,</HI> in u&s;ing an <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> word
improperly; in u&s;ing an Adverb for a
Prepo&s;ition; in u&s;ing a Phra&s;e impro|perly:
'Tis a <HI>Barbari&s;m</HI> likewi&s;e to u&s;e
or omit &s;uch Particles as are unne|ce&s;&s;ary
or convenient. And the &s;ame
ab&s;urdity committed in Declen&s;ion,
Conjugation, or Con&s;truction, is a <HI>So|leci&s;m.</HI></P>
<P>Mon&s;ieur <HI>de Vaugelas</HI> has di&s;tingui&s;hed
very well, betwixt the clearne&s;s we
mentioned in the precedent Chapter,
and the purity we have mentioned in
this. A pure Stile is that which <HI>Quintil.</HI>
calls <HI>Emendata Oratio:</HI> A clear Stile is
that which he calls <HI>Dilucida Oratio.</HI> And
the&s;e are &s;o different (&s;ays Mon&s;ieur <HI>de
<PB N="66" REF="41">
Vaugelas)</HI> that there are thou&s;ands of
people, who write clearly and intelli|gibly
in all &s;ort of matters, (that is to
&s;ay, explain them&s;elves &s;o, as the
meane&s;t capacity may conceive what
they intend) and yet nothing more im|pure
than their Stile. On the other
&s;ide, there are tho&s;e who write purely
and correctly, without either <HI>Barbari&s;m</HI>
or <HI>Soleci&s;m;</HI> yet their words are ranged
&s;o ill, their Periods &s;o ill ordered, and
their Stile &s;o perplex'd and confus'd,
they are not, without great difficulty,
to be under&s;tood.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">'Tis Choice of Expre&s;sion that makes
a Man Elegant.</HEAD>
<P>THe be&s;t Expre&s;&s;ions grow low and
degenerate, when profan'd by the
Populace, and applied to mean things.
The u&s;e they make of them, infecting
them with a mean and abject Idea,
cau&s;es, that we cannot u&s;e them with|out
<PB N="67" REF="41">
out &s;ullying and defiling tho&s;e things,
which are &s;ignified by them. Vulgar
Expre&s;&s;ions are carefully avoided by
tho&s;e who write politely; and caution,
as to them, is the occa&s;ion of continual
alteration of Languages.</P>
<Q><L>Ut Sylvae foliis pronos mutantur in Annos,</L>
<L>Prima cadunt; ita verborum vetus interit
aetas,</L>
<L>Et Juvenum ritu, florent modo nata, vi|gentque.</L></Q>
<P>Per&s;ons of Quality and Learning,
endeavour to advance them&s;elves above
the Vulgar, and therefore avoiding to
&s;peak like them, will not make u&s;e of
Expre&s;&s;ions that they have &s;poiled.
Per&s;ons of Condition are readily imi|tated
by every body, &s;o that in a &s;hort
time, tho&s;e 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 Pea&s;ants.</P>
<P>To be &s;hort: Be&s;ides exact keeping of
the Laws of Cu&s;tom, and the care of
<PB N="68" REF="42">
making u&s;e only of pure ways of Spea|king;
it mu&s;t be confe&s;&s;ed, that that
which advanced tho&s;e Per&s;ons, who
are mo&s;t Eminent for their Eloquence,
was a certain Art and Felicity they had
in finding out rich and ingenious Ex|pre&s;&s;ions
to &s;ignifie their thoughts. It
requires no great care nor pains to
avoid the Cen&s;ure of the Critique; but
we cannot plea&s;e every body without
extraordinary fortune. Who can find
fault with the&s;e following words? <HI>'Tis
to</HI> Cadmus <HI>that</HI> Greece <HI>is indebted for
the Invention of Letters: 'Tis to him &s;he
is indebted for the Art of Writing.</HI> Yet I
have read the &s;ame thing expre&s;&s;ed with
more fancy and charm.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="2" TYPE="part">
<PB N="69" REF="42">
<HEAD>THE SECOND PART
OF THE
ART OF SPEAKING.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">No Language is rich enough to &s;upply
us with terms capable of expre&s;sing
all the different faces upon which the
&s;ame thing may be repre&s;ented: We
mu&s;t have recour&s;e to certain man|ners
of Speaking, called Tropes,
who&s;e Nature and Invention &s;hall be
explained in this Chapter.</HEAD>
<P>THe Mind of Man is &s;o fertile,
all the Languages in the
World are too barren to ex|pre&s;s
its fecundity. It turns
<PB N="70" REF="43">
things &s;o many ways, and repre&s;ents
things with &s;o many different faces,
that 'tis impo&s;&s;ible to contrive words
for all the forms of our thoughts: The
ordinary terms are not always adequate,
they are either too &s;trong or too weak.
Wherefore to expre&s;s our meaning ex|actly,
we are many times obliged to
the &s;ame addre&s;s we are glad to make
u&s;e of, when we know not the Man's
Name of whom we de&s;ire to &s;peak;
we do it by &s;uch &s;igns and circum&s;tan|ces,
as by their connexion to his per|&s;on,
do &s;tir up and excite that Idea,
which we could not &s;ignifie by his pro|per
Name; that is, we de&s;cribe him as
a Souldier, Magi&s;trate, Dwarf, <HI>&amp;c.</HI></P>
<Q>Crine ruber, niger ore, brevis pede, lumine
lae&s;us.</Q>
<P>Tho&s;e Objects that have reference
and connexion betwixt them, have
their Idea's al&s;o in &s;ome manner con|nex'd.
We no &s;ooner &s;ee a Souldier,
but War occurs immediately to our Me|mory:
We no &s;ooner &s;ee a Man, but
we remember all tho&s;e whom we have
<PB N="71" REF="43">
ob&s;erv'd to re&s;emble him. So the Idea
of a thing may be excited at the naming
of any of tho&s;e things, with which it
has any re&s;emblance.</P>
<P>When to expre&s;s a thing, we make
u&s;e of an improper word, which Cu|&s;tom
has applied to another Subject,
that way of explaining our &s;elves is
figurative; and the words &s;o tran&s;por|ted
from their proper &s;ignification, and
applied to other things than what they
naturally mean, are called <HI>Tropes,</HI> or
<HI>Changes</HI> of Cu&s;tom, as the <HI>Greek</HI> Verb
<GAP DESC="foreign"> imports. The&s;e Tropes do not
&s;ignifie the things to which they are
applied, otherwi&s;e than by rea&s;on of
the connexion and reference that tho&s;e
things have with the things who&s;e
Names they do properly bear: So that
we may reckon, there are as many
&s;ort of Tropes, as there are different
references; but it has plea&s;ed the Ma&s;ters
of this Art to e&s;tabli&s;h but few.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<PB N="72" REF="44">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">A Li&s;t of the mo&s;t con&s;iderable Tropes.</HEAD>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>METONYMIA.</HEAD>
<P>I Place this <HI>Metonymie</HI> at the head
of the Tropes, becau&s;e it compre|hends
&s;everal &s;orts of them, and is the
mo&s;t capacious of them all. <HI>Metonymia,</HI>
in <HI>Latin Tran&s;nominatio,</HI> is the putting
off one Name for another; and as oft
as we u&s;e any name or word to expre&s;s
a thing, be&s;ides that which is proper
to it, we expre&s;s our &s;elves by a <HI>Meto|nymie.</HI>
As if we &s;hould &s;ay: Cae&s;ar <HI>ra|vaged
the</HI> Gauls: <HI>All the World reads</HI>
Cicero: Paris <HI>is allarm'd.</HI> It would be
plain we intended, Cae&s;ar's <HI>Army rava|ged
the</HI> Gauls: <HI>The World read</HI> Cicero<HI>'s
Works:</HI> And, <HI>That the People in</HI> Paris
<HI>are allarm'd.</HI> There is &s;o &s;trong rela|tion
betwixt a General and his Army,
betwixt an Author and his Works,
betwixt a Town and its Inhabitants;
<PB N="73" REF="44">
that we cannot think of the one, but
the Idea of the other pre&s;ents it &s;elf in|&s;tantly
to our Minds; which is the
cau&s;e, that this changing of Names pro|duces
nothing of confu&s;ion.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>SYNECDOCHE.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Synecdoche</HI> is a kind of <HI>Metonymie,</HI>
where we put the name of the whole
for a part, or the name of a part for
the whole: As if we &s;hould &s;ay <HI>Europe</HI>
for <HI>France,</HI> or <HI>France</HI> for <HI>Europe:</HI> The
<HI>Nightingal</HI> for <HI>Birds</HI> in general, or the
<HI>Bird</HI> for the <HI>Nightingal:</HI> The <HI>Tree</HI> for a
particular <HI>Tree.</HI> If we &s;hould &s;ay, <HI>The
Plague is in</HI> England, <HI>when perhaps it is
only in</HI> London: Or, <HI>That it is in</HI> Lon|don,
<HI>when it is all over the Kingdom.</HI> If
&s;peaking particularly of the <HI>Nightingal,</HI>
or of an <HI>Oak,</HI> we &s;hould &s;ay, <HI>This is a
fine Bird, This is a fine Tree.</HI> So that
by the benefit of a <HI>Metonymie</HI> we have
liberty to u&s;e the name of a part for
the whole, or the whole for a part.</P>
<P>We refer al&s;o to this Trope, the
liberty we take to put a certain for an
uncertain Number: We may &s;ay, This
<PB N="74" REF="45">
Hou&s;e has an hundred fair Avenues,
when perhaps it has more or le&s;s: And
to make our reckoning round and com|pleat,
if a Man be ninety nine years old
and odd months, we may &s;ay he is an
hundred, without any great Soleci&s;m.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>ANTONOMASIA.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Antonoma&s;ia</HI> is a &s;ort of <HI>Metonymie,</HI>
when we apply the proper Name of
one thing to &s;everal others; or <HI>&egrave; con|trario,</HI>
the Names of &s;everal things to
one. <HI>Sardanapalus</HI> was a voluptuous
King: <HI>Nero</HI> a cruel Emperour. By this
Figure <HI>Antonoma&s;ia,</HI> we call any vo|luptuous
per&s;on a <HI>Sardanapalus,</HI> and any
cruel per&s;on a <HI>Nero.</HI> The words <HI>Orator,
Poet, Philo&s;opher,</HI> are common words,
and to be given to all of the re&s;pective
Profe&s;&s;ions; yet they are applied to
particular per&s;ons, as if they were only
proper to them: When we &s;peak of
<HI>Cicero,</HI> we &s;ay the <HI>Orator</HI> gives us this
Precept in his Rhetorick. The <HI>Poet</HI> has
given us the De&s;cription of a Tempe&s;t
in the Fir&s;t of his <HI>Aeneids,</HI> intending
<HI>Virgil.</HI> The <HI>Philo&s;opher</HI> has prov'd it in
<PB N="75" REF="45">
his <HI>Metaphy&s;icks,</HI> meaning <HI>Ari&s;totle.</HI> In
every condition, that Man who excels
the re&s;t of his Brethren, may appro|priate
the Title of his Profe&s;&s;ion. We
cannot talk of Eloquence, but <HI>Cicero</HI>
falls naturally into our thoughts, and
by con&s;equence the Idea of <HI>Cicero,</HI> and
<HI>Orator,</HI> are &s;o clo&s;e and in&s;eparable,
we cannot mention the one, but the
other will follow.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>METAPHORA.</HEAD>
<P>Tropes are words tran&s;ported from
their proper &s;ignifications, and applied
to things that they &s;ignifie but oblique|ly.
So that all Tropes are <HI>Metaphors</HI>
or Tran&s;lations, according to the Ety|mology
of the Word. And yet by the
Figure <HI>Antonoma&s;ia</HI> we give the name
of <HI>Metaphor</HI> to a particular Trope, and
according to that definition, a <HI>Meta|phor</HI>
is a Trope by which we put a
&s;trange and remote word for a proper
word, by rea&s;on of its re&s;emblance
with the thing of which we &s;peak.
We call the King the Head of His
Kingdom; becau&s;e as the Head com|mands
<PB N="76" REF="46">
the Members of the Natural,
&s;o the King commands the Members of
the Politick Body. The Holy Scripture,
very Elegantly to &s;ignifie a great
Drought, &s;ays, <HI>The Heavens were Bra&s;s.</HI>
When a Hou&s;e looks plea&s;antly, we &s;ay,
and not improperly, <HI>It &s;miles upon us;</HI>
becau&s;e it in &s;ome mea&s;ure re&s;embles the
agreeablene&s;s that appears in the coun|tenance
of a per&s;on when he &s;miles.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>ALLEGORIA.</HEAD>
<P>An <HI>Allegory</HI> is a continuation of &s;e|veral
<HI>Metaphors.</HI> There is an excellent
Example of a perfect <HI>Allegory</HI> in the
Poem of <HI>S. Pro&s;per, Part. 2. chap.</HI> 14.
where he &s;peaks of Divine Grace.</P>
<Q><L>By this the Soul of Man becomes a Soil,</L>
<L>Fit to receive the Seed of Faith, and while</L>
<L>By this Divine Efflux, the drooping Mind</L>
<L>Is rais'd above her &s;elf, that Plant doth find</L>
<L>Room to take root, and largely &s;pread,
through all</L>
<L>Tho&s;e thoughts and actions, which &s;ince the
Fall,</L>
<L><PB N="77" REF="46">
De&s;erve the Name of Good. To this w' are
bound,</L>
<L>That that good Fruit, for which the Saints
are crown'd,</L>
<L>Comes to maturity, and is not kill'd</L>
<L>By th' Tares of Pa&s;&s;ions, with which is
fill'd</L>
<L>Depraved humane Nature: 'Tis this
&s;trength</L>
<L>By which Faith brings forth Fruit, and at
the length,</L>
<L>Maugre the de&s;p'rate On&s;ets of fierce lu&s;ts,</L>
<L>Grows up &s;ecure to Him in whom &s;he tru&s;ts.</L>
<L>This props up tender Faith from being &s;truck
down,</L>
<L>'Till happy Per&s;everance gives a Crown.</L></Q>
<P>Great care mu&s;t be taken in an <HI>Alle|gory,</HI>
that it ends as it begins; that the
Metaphors be continued, and the &s;ame
things made u&s;e of to the la&s;t, from
whence we borrowed our fir&s;t Expre&s;|&s;ions;
which <HI>Pro&s;per</HI> ob&s;erved exactly
in his Metaphor from Corn. When
the&s;e <HI>Allegories</HI> are ob&s;cure, and the na|tural
&s;en&s;e of the words not pre&s;ently
perceptible, they may be call'd <HI>Enigma's,</HI>
as in the&s;e Ver&s;es, where the Poet de|&s;cribes
<PB N="78" REF="47">
the agitation and ebullition of
the blood in the time of a Feaver.</P>
<Q><L>Ce &s;ang chaud &amp; bo&uuml;illant, cette fl&acirc;me
liquide,</L>
<L>Cette &s;ource de vie &agrave; ce coup homicide,</L>
<L>Et &s;on let agit&eacute;, ne &s;e peut repo&s;er</L>
<L>Et con&s;ume le champ qu' elle doit arro&s;er.</L>
<L>Dan &s;es canaux troubles, &s;a cour&s;e vaga|bonde</L>
<L>Porte un tribut Mortel au Roy du petit
Monde.</L></Q>
<P>This la&s;t Ver&s;e is more particularly
Enigmatical; and on a &s;udden 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 pa&s;&s;es continually: It mu&s;t fir&s;t
be con&s;idered, that Man is called fre|quently
a Microco&s;m of little World.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>LITOTES.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Litotes,</HI> or <HI>Diminutio,</HI> is a Trope by
which we &s;peak le&s;s than we think, as
when we &s;ay, <HI>I cannot commend you,</HI> it
implies a &s;ecret reproach or reprehen&s;ion
<PB N="79" REF="47">
for &s;omething committed that hinders
us. <HI>I do not undervalue your Pre&s;ents,</HI> is
as much as <HI>I accept them.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>HYPERBOLE.</HEAD>
<P>An <HI>Hyperbole</HI> is a Figure which repre|&s;ents
things greater, le&s;&s;er, better, <HI>&amp;c.</HI>
than in reality they are. We make u&s;e
of an <HI>Hyperbole,</HI> when our ordinary
Terms being too weak or too &s;trong,
carry no proportion with our Idea; and
&s;o fearing to &s;peak too little, we fly out
and &s;ay too much. As if to expre&s;s the
&s;wiftne&s;s of a Hor&s;e, I &s;hould &s;ay he
was <HI>&s;wifter than the Wind.</HI> If the &s;low|ne&s;s
of a Per&s;on, I &s;hould &s;ay, <HI>His mo|tion
was &s;lower than the motion of a Tor|toi&s;e.</HI>
In &s;trictne&s;s the&s;e Expre&s;&s;ions are
Lyes, but they are innocent Lyes, and
deceive no body: For no one but under|&s;tands
what we mean, and in the pre|cedent
Examples all that is intended is
only this, <HI>That one ran very fa&s;t,</HI> and
<HI>the other moved very &s;low.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<PB N="80" REF="48">
<HEAD>IRONIA.</HEAD>
<P>An <HI>Ironie</HI> is a Trope, by which we
&s;peak contrary to our thoughts, as when
we &s;ay, &s;uch a one is a <HI>very hone&s;t man,</HI>
when we know he is notoriou&s;ly cor|rupt.
The tone of the Voice where|with
the&s;e <HI>Ironies</HI> are commonly pro|nounced;
and the quality of the per&s;on
to whom we give the Title, being con|trary
to what we &s;ay, undeceives the
Hearer, and gives an exact notion of
our thoughts.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>CATACHRESIS.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Catachre&s;is</HI> is the free&s;t Trope of them
all: By it we have liberty to borrow the
Name of a thing, though quite con|trary
to what we would &s;ignifie, be|cau&s;e
we cannot otherwi&s;e expre&s;s it;
as when we &s;ay a <HI>wooden Ink-horn.</HI> Rea|&s;on
demurs at the Expre&s;&s;ion; but ne|ce&s;&s;ity
obliges us to make u&s;e of it. <HI>To
ride on hor&s;e-back upon a &s;tick; Equitare in
arundine longa;</HI> is not &s;o proper, be|cau&s;e
riding does naturally pre&s;uppo&s;e
<PB N="81" REF="48">
an Hor&s;e, and there is great difference
betwixt an Hor&s;e and a Stick: Yet
though the&s;e Expre&s;&s;ions appear con|tradictory,
they are ea&s;ily under&s;tood.</P>
<P>The&s;e are the mo&s;t con&s;iderable of
the Tropes, and to one or other of the&s;e,
all the re&s;t may be reduced. I do not
pretend to &s;how how we are to find
them: Be&s;ides, that Cu&s;tom will plen|tifully
furni&s;h us, in the heat of Di&s;|cour&s;e,
no Man's Imagination but will
&s;upply him. And as in our pa&s;&s;ion we
never want Arms, our choler directing
us to whatever lyes in our way; &s;o
when our Imagination is &s;tirr'd, we
make u&s;e of all the Objects of our Me|mory
to &s;ignifie our thoughts. There
is nothing in Nature, but may &s;ome
way or other be applied to the thing
of which we &s;peak, and &s;upply us with
Tropes, where proper Terms are de|fective.</P>
</DIV4>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="82" REF="49">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The U&s;e of Tropes, and the Nece&s;sity
of their being Clear.</HEAD>
<P>THe richne&s;s of a Language con&s;i&s;ts
in its Tropes; and as the ill u&s;e
of a Man's Wealth, is the de&s;truction
of his E&s;tate; &s;o the ill choice of
Tropes occa&s;ions a multitude of faults
in Di&s;cour&s;e. 'Tis nece&s;&s;ary therefore
that Rules be pre&s;cribed: And fir&s;t great
care is to be taken, that we u&s;e no
Tropes, but where we mu&s;t expre&s;s
our &s;elves imperfectly without them;
and when we are obliged to u&s;e them,
they mu&s;t have two qualities; one is,
they mu&s;t be clear, and contribute to
the under&s;tanding of what we intend,
&s;eeing the only u&s;e of them is to make
us more intelligible; the other is, that
<PB N="83" REF="49">
they hold proportion with the Idea we
de&s;ign to delineate.</P>
<P>Three things hinder the per&s;picuity
of a Trope: The fir&s;t is when it is too
remote, and gives no pre&s;ent advan|tage
to the Hearer, to di&s;cover what it
is that the Speaker intends. As if we
&s;hould call a &s;candalous Hou&s;e, the
<HI>Syrtes of Youth.</HI> We &s;hould not reach
the meaning of the Metaphor, 'till we
we had recollected, that the <HI>Syrtes</HI> were
certain Banks of Sand (upon the <HI>African</HI>
Coa&s;t) very dangerous. Whereas if we
&s;hould &s;ay the &s;ame Hou&s;e was a <HI>Rock
for Youth,</HI> what we intended to &s;ignifie
would be obvious enough. To avoid
this inconvenience, the be&s;t way will
be to take our Metaphors from &s;en&s;ible
things, and &s;uch as are frequently re|pre&s;ented
to our Eyes, who&s;e Images
are ea&s;ily apprehended without &s;crutiny
or trouble. If I would de&s;cribe a per|&s;on
who&s;e Name I had forgot, I &s;hould
be ridiculous to do it by dark and ob|&s;cure
&s;igns, that gave no ready occa&s;ion
to my Hearers to form an Idea of his
per&s;on: But this that is a fault &s;o dan|gerous,
and &s;o much to be avoided in
<PB N="84" REF="50">
conver&s;ation, is looked upon by &s;ome
Authors as an Elegance, and highly
affected. Some people delight to fetch
their Metaphors afar off, and to take
them from things unknown, to o&s;ten|tate
their Learning. If they &s;peak of
a Kingdom, they will be &s;ure to make
u&s;e of a <HI>Synecdoche,</HI> and call it by &s;ome
part that no body knows: The neare&s;t
of their Tropes &s;hall be fetcht out of
<HI>A&s;ia</HI> or <HI>Africk.</HI> And he who would
under&s;tand them, mu&s;t inform him&s;elf
of all the Villages, Fountains, and Mole-hills
in tho&s;e 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 &s;uch 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 &s;e|cond
thing that renders a Trope ob|&s;cure.
This connexion is either natu|ral
or artificial. I call that natural,
when things &s;ignified by their proper,
and by their metaphorical Names, have
<PB N="85" REF="50">
natural re&s;emblance, or dependance one
upon the other. As when we &s;ay a
Man has Arms of Bra&s;s, to &s;ignifie the
&s;trength of his Arms, we may call this
re&s;emblance betwixt the Trope and the
proper Expre&s;&s;ion, natural. The arti|ficial
connexion, is that which ari&s;es
from Cu&s;tom. 'Tis the cu&s;tom to call
a rough untractable Man an <HI>Arab;</HI>
'tis an u&s;ual term, and the frequent
u&s;ing it in that &s;en&s;e, makes the Idea
of that word <HI>Arab</HI> awake the Idea of
an untractable Man. And therefore an
artificial connexion is more obvious,
than a natural, becau&s;e it is e&s;tabli&s;hed
by Cu&s;tom.</P>
<P>The too frequent u&s;e of Tropes, is
the third thing that renders them ob|&s;cure:
The cleare&s;t and mo&s;t per&s;pi|cuous
Metaphors expre&s;s things but in|directly.
The natural Idea of what is
repre&s;ented only by Metaphors, arrives
not at the Mind without pain and re|flexion,
and there are few but would
be willing to have that labour &s;pared.
Yet when we condemn this frequency
of Tropes, we intend only tho&s;e which
are extraordinary. Some there are as
<PB N="86" REF="51">
u&s;eful as natural Terms; and tho&s;e can
never perplex our Di&s;cour&s;e. When
we make u&s;e of Metaphorical Expre&s;|&s;ions,
they mu&s;t be of this latter &s;ort,
otherwi&s;e our Hearers mu&s;t be prepared
to under&s;tand them. A Trope ought
to be preceded by &s;omething that hin|ders
mi&s;take, and the &s;equel of the
Di&s;cour&s;e ought to make it appear, that
we are not to &s;top at the natural Idea
repre&s;ented by the Terms which we im|ploy.</P>
<P>Unle&s;s we be very extravagant, and
delight in not being under&s;tood, we
will never continue a Book, or Di&s;|cour&s;e,
from the beginning to the end
in perpetual Allegories. We cannot
di&s;cover a Man's meaning, but when
he gives us at lea&s;t &s;ome natural &s;igns
of it, without fallacy or equivocation.
How can we tell when he is in je&s;t,
and when in earne&s;t, unle&s;s we have
&s;een him &s;erious before? How can we
di&s;tingui&s;h a Mimick from a real Fool,
but by ob&s;erving that the one is a Fool
only for a time, and the other as long
as he lives? When therefore we &s;ee an
Author expre&s;s him&s;elf wholly by Me|taphors,
<PB N="87" REF="51">
we may conclude him extra|vagant;
unle&s;s there be &s;ome &s;ecret rea|&s;on
that makes him ob&s;cure.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Tropes mu&s;t be proportioned to the
Idea's we would give.</HEAD>
<P>THe U&s;e of Tropes is ab&s;olutely ne|ce&s;&s;ary,
becau&s;e many times ordi|nary
words are deficient. If I would
give the Idea of a very high Rock, the
words <HI>large, high,</HI> and <HI>lofty,</HI> being gi|ven
to ordinary Rocks, would afford
but a &s;hort and imperfect dimen&s;ion of
mine. But if I &s;hould &s;ay, <HI>It threatned
the Heavens,</HI> the Idea of Heaven (which
is the highe&s;t thing in Nature) and the
Idea of threatning (which belongs pro|perly
to people above us) would form
in my Mind an Idea of &s;uch an extraor|dinary
height, as could not be expre&s;&s;ed
without an Hyperbole. We &s;ay more
than we intend, for fear we &s;hould &s;ay
le&s;s. But the&s;e kind of Expre&s;&s;ions are
<PB N="88" REF="52">
to be u&s;ed with great caution and deco|rum:
We mu&s;t have a care that there
be always a proportion betwixt the
natural Idea of the Trope, and the
thing we would explain; otherwi&s;e the
Hearer may mi&s;under&s;tand, and take
one thing for another. If &s;peaking of
an indifferent low Valley, I &s;hould &s;ay,
<HI>It went as low as Hell;</HI> or of a Rock of
more than ordinary height, I &s;hould
&s;ay, <HI>It touched the Skies;</HI> who would
not believe I was &s;peaking of a Rock
of an immen&s;e height, and of a bot|tom
of a prodigious lowne&s;s? So that
we mu&s;t have particular regard that
our Trope does not give a contrary or
extravagant Idea of the thing we in|tend,
le&s;t whil&s;t we pretend to be &s;e|rious,
we make our Auditors laugh, as
in this Expre&s;&s;ion, <HI>Morte Catonis Res|publica
ca&s;trata e&s;t.</HI></P>
<P>There are thou&s;ands of ways to cor|rect
and temper the&s;e extravagant Ex|pre&s;&s;ions,
of which &s;ometimes we are
forced to make u&s;e. If our reputation
be in danger, we excu&s;e our &s;elves, or
prepare the Reader by &s;ome previous
complement: For 'tis plain, an ill intro|duc'd
<PB N="89" REF="52">
Trope, is a &s;ign of an irregular
Fancy: The&s;e bold Expre&s;&s;ions are In|dications
of our Judgment or Pa&s;&s;ion:
When an Object is rare, and we think
it &s;o in our Minds, (whether it be for
its height or profundity) we pre&s;ently
are &s;en&s;ible in our &s;elves of Motions ten|ding
to E&s;teem or Contempt, Hatred
or Love, which we expre&s;s by words
proportioned to our Judgment and Pa&s;|&s;ion:
If therefore the Judgment we
make of the&s;e Objects be ra&s;h and teme|rarious;
if our Sentiments be irratio|nal,
our Di&s;cour&s;e betrays all, and
di&s;covers our weakne&s;s. 'Tis not e|nough
therefore, that our Tropes be
&s;uited to our Idea's, but they mu&s;t qua|drate
among them&s;elves. Men are na|turally
Lovers of great things; and
therefore Authors, who make the &s;ati&s;|faction
of their Readers the Rule and
Scope of their Art, do affect great
Words, high Metaphors, and bold Hy|perboles,
that, to be examin'd, would
appear ridiculous, and even in tho&s;e
per&s;ons who are delighted with them,
produce nothing but vain admiration.
A Man of Rea&s;on cannot endure that
<PB N="90" REF="53">
Mountains and Mole-hills &s;hould be con|founded;
that trifles &s;hould be made
great things, and great things trifles;
and that the equality of Stile &s;hould not
leave it in our power, to di&s;criminate
betwixt things of none, and things of
the mo&s;t &s;erious importance.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Tropes are an Ornament to Di&s;cour&s;e.</HEAD>
<P>TRopes do make a &s;en&s;ible de&s;cri|ption
of the thing we intend:
When we call a Great Captain, <HI>The
Thunderbolt of War,</HI> the Idea of Thun|der
informs pre&s;ently with what force,
with what &s;wiftne&s;s, with what noi&s;e,
the &s;aid Captain overcomes: Men do
not commonly receive any thing into
their Minds, that comes not fir&s;t to
their Sen&s;es. To make them conceive
well, we make u&s;e of Compari&s;ons
that are both &s;en&s;ible and plea&s;ant, &s;uch
Compari&s;ons are ea&s;ie to the Mind,
exempting it from that &s;tudy and &s;erious
application, that is nece&s;&s;ary for the
<PB N="91" REF="53">
di&s;covery of that which falls not under
our Sen&s;es. For this rea&s;on, Metaphors
taken from &s;en&s;ible things, are very fre|quent
in Scripture. The Prophets never
&s;peak of God, but they de&s;cribe Him by
things &s;ubject to our Sen&s;e. They give
Him <HI>Arms,</HI> and <HI>Hands,</HI> and <HI>Eyes,</HI> and
de&s;cribe Him with Darts, Arrows, and
Thunderbolts, by &s;uch vi&s;ible things
to intimate to the people his Spiritual
and Invi&s;ible Power. <HI>Sapientia Dei quae
cum infantia no&s;tra Parabolis, &amp; Simili|tudinibus
quodammodo ludere non de dignata
e&s;t, Prophetas voluit humano more de di|vinis
loqui, ut hebetes hominum animi,
divina &amp; coele&s;tia, terre&s;trium &s;imilitudine
intelligerent. St.</HI> Augu&s;t.</P>
<P>A &s;ingle Metaphor many times ex|pre&s;&s;es
more than a long Di&s;cour&s;e.
If we &s;hould &s;ay, <HI>Sciences have corners
and depths that are very unprofitable,</HI> that
Metaphor would &s;ignifie more than
could be expre&s;&s;ed by many natural
words in an ea&s;ie and comprehen&s;ible
way. Be&s;ides, by help of a Trope, we
can vary and protract a Di&s;cour&s;e as we
&s;ee occa&s;ion. When we &s;peak long
upon one Subject, and have no mind,
<PB N="92" REF="54">
by too frequent repetitions, to trouble
the Hearers, it is the be&s;t way to borrow
Names from &s;uch things as have con|nexion
with the things of which we
&s;peak, and to expre&s;s our &s;elves by
Tropes.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Pa&s;sions have a peculiar Language,
and are expre&s;&s;ed only by what we
call Figures.</HEAD>
<P>BE&s;ides the proper and metaphorical
Expre&s;&s;ions, wherewith Cu&s;tom
and Art &s;upplies us, to &s;ignifie the Mo|tions
both of our Will, and our
Thoughts, our Pa&s;&s;ions al&s;o have their
peculiar Characters, by which they re|pre&s;ent
them&s;elves in our Di&s;cour&s;e.
We &s;ee in a Man's Face what pa&s;&s;es in
his Heart; the fire in his Eyes, the
<PB N="93" REF="54">
wrinkles in his Brow, the palene&s;s in
his looks, are evidences of more than
ordinary commotion. The Circum|&s;tances
of his Di&s;cour&s;e, the new and
&s;udden way of expre&s;&s;ing him&s;elf, (quite
contrary to his way when he was cool
and in peace) are certain characters of
agitation, and imply di&s;turbance in the
per&s;on who &s;peaks.</P>
<P>Pa&s;&s;ion makes us con&s;ider things o|therwi&s;e
than we do when we are calm
and &s;edate. It magnifies the Objects,
and fixes our thoughts upon them in
&s;uch manner, that our thoughts are
wholly employed about them; the Ob|jects
making as &s;trong an impre&s;&s;ion
in us, as the things them&s;elves. Our
Pa&s;&s;ions do many times produce con|trary
effects, tran&s;porting the Mind,
and in an in&s;tant carrying it through
&s;everal variations: They force our con|&s;iderations
from one Object, and throw
it upon another: They precipitate, in|terrupt,
and divert it: In a word, Pa&s;|&s;ion
in a Man's Heart, has the &s;ame
effect as the Wind in the Sea: Some|times
it forces the Waves upon the
&s;hore, &s;ometimes it hurries them back
<PB N="94" REF="55">
into the deep; on a &s;udden it mounts
them and da&s;hes them again&s;t the Sky,
and pre&s;ently tumbles them down to
the very Centre of the Earth.</P>
<P>So our words an&s;wer to our thoughts:
The Di&s;cour&s;e of a Man that is moved,
cannot be equal: Sometimes it is dif|fu&s;e,
and de&s;cribes exactly the thing
that is the Object of our Pa&s;&s;ion: Ano|ther
time it is &s;hort; his expre&s;&s;ion is
abrupt; twenty things &s;aid at a time;
twenty Interrogations; twenty Excla|mations;
twenty Digre&s;&s;ions together;
he is alter'd by a hundred little particula|rities,
and new ways of &s;ignifying his
mind, which ways are as different, and
di&s;tingui&s;hable from his ordinary way,
as the Face of a Man is when he is
angry, from his Face when he is quiet
and &s;erene.</P>
<P>The&s;e ways of Speaking (which are
Characters drawn by our Pa&s;&s;ions in
our Di&s;cour&s;e) are the famous <HI>Figures</HI>
mentioned by Rhetoricians, and by
them defin'd, <HI>Manners of Speaking, dif|ferent
and remote from the ways that are
ordinary and natural;</HI> that is to &s;ay, quite
other than what we u&s;e, when we
<PB N="95" REF="55">
&s;peak without pa&s;&s;ion. There is no|thing
ob&s;cure in this definition, that re|quires
explication, and therefore we
will go on to the U&s;e and Nece&s;&s;ity of
the&s;e Figures.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Figures are u&s;eful and nece&s;&s;ary.</HEAD>
<P>THree Rea&s;ons oblige us particularly
to the U&s;e of Figures. Fir&s;t, when
we de&s;cribe a per&s;on under commotion,
if we would do it exactly, we mu&s;t
repre&s;ent his Di&s;cour&s;e with all its
proper Figures, turning and altering
them, as Men in pa&s;&s;ion do generally
turn and alter their Di&s;cour&s;e. A skil|ful
Painter, to expre&s;s (as much as in
him lyes) the thoughts and pa&s;&s;ions of
the per&s;on whom he draws, gives his
Picture &s;uch touches and lines, as he
ob&s;erves to be in the Face after extra|ordinary
provocation; which &s;trokes,
are great indications of the temper of
the Mind.</P>
<P><PB N="96" REF="56">
Our Pa&s;&s;ions (as I &s;aid before) will
&s;how them&s;elves in our Eyes, our
Words, our Motions, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> The ex|pre&s;&s;ion
of Anger and Mirth cannot be
the &s;ame: The&s;e Pa&s;&s;ions have different
Characters, and therefore it is in vain
to think to repre&s;ent them, either by
colours or words, unle&s;s we do it by the
&s;ame &s;trokes and figures by which they
are di&s;tingui&s;hed among them&s;elves.</P>
<P>When a Di&s;cour&s;e has life in it, and
is animated with the Motions and Cha|racters,
and Pa&s;&s;ions of the per&s;on who
&s;peaks, it cau&s;es a &s;ecret plea&s;ure, and
is extreamly delightful. We cannot
read the&s;e following Ver&s;es, without
compa&s;&s;ion, and re&s;entment of the &s;ame
tenderne&s;s and love. <HI>Virgil</HI> repre&s;ents
<HI>Ni&s;us</HI> in great con&s;ternation, upon the
danger of his Friend <HI>Euryalus,</HI> again&s;t
whom <HI>Volcens</HI> was advancing with his
Sword in his hand to revenge the death
of <HI>Tagus,</HI> who as he thought was &s;lain
by <HI>Euryalus. Ni&s;us</HI> di&s;covers him&s;elf to
have &s;lain <HI>Tagus,</HI> and pre&s;ents him&s;elf
to receive that mortal &s;troke that was
directed to <HI>Euryalus.</HI> His words are the&s;e,
and they are highly emphatical.</P>
<Q><PB N="97" REF="56">
<L>Me me ad&s;um qui feci, in me convertite
ferrum</L>
<L>O Rutuli: mea fraus omnis, nihil i&s;te nec
au&s;us,</L>
<L>Nec potuit: Coelum hoc, &amp; con&s;cia Sydera
te&s;tor:</L>
<L>Tant&ugrave;m infelicem nimium dilexit amicum.</L></Q>
<Q><L>I'm, I'm the Man! Turn, turn your
Swords on me:</L>
<L>Mine was the fraud; alas poor harm|le&s;s
he</L>
<L>Nor dur&s;t, nor could, the Heaven and
Stars can tell:</L>
<L>His only guilt was loving's Friend too
well.</L></Q>
<P>The &s;econd Rea&s;on to prove the U&s;e
and Nece&s;&s;ity of Figures, is &s;tronger
than the fir&s;t: We cannot affect other
people, without we appear to have
&s;ome impre&s;&s;ion upon our &s;elves.</P>
<Q><L>&mdash;Sivis me flere, dolendum e&s;t</L>
<L>Primum ip&s;e tibi&mdash;</L></Q>
<P>Men will never think us concern'd,
<PB N="98" REF="57">
unle&s;s they ob&s;erve 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 compa&s;&s;ion, his Eyes mu&s;t be
fix'd upon the ground, and his Cheeks
all dabbled with tears: For the &s;ame
rea&s;on, our Di&s;cour&s;e ought likewi&s;e
to bear the marks of the pa&s;&s;ion we
feel, and would communicate to our
Auditors. We judge of things, accor|ding
to the zeal and fervor of the
Speaker. The mo&s;t part of Men, and
of things, that have extraordinary
e&s;teem, are indebted for it, to tho&s;e
who never mention them but with
tran&s;ports of admiration: Were they
mentioned with contempt, the World
would think contemptibly of them.
<HI>Non</HI> (&s;ays St. <HI>Aug.) quod res aliae forent,
&amp; ip&s;e homo alius, &s;ed tantummodo affectus
alius narrantium.</HI></P>
<P>Animals know how to defend them|&s;elves;
to acquire what is u&s;eful, and
to keep it by force. Tho&s;e who have
fancied them but Machins, have &s;how'd
very ingeniou&s;ly, their Bodies to be &s;o
organiz'd, that they may perform tho&s;e
<PB N="99" REF="57">
actions without a&s;&s;i&s;tance from the
Soul. We find in our &s;elves, that our
Members (without direction from our
Soul) di&s;po&s;e them&s;elves into po&s;tures
to avoid injury. That the Body frames
it &s;elf into a proper condition, either
to invade or defend. The Hands and
the Feet expo&s;e them&s;elves for the &s;afety
of the Head. The Feet &s;tand firm to
&s;upport the Body, and put it into a
capacity of with&s;tanding the in&s;ults of
the Enemy. The Arm &s;tiffens, and li&s;ts
it &s;elf up to &s;trike with greater force.
The whole Body twi&s;ts, and contracts,
and extends it &s;elf, to avoid or invade
the Adver&s;ary. And all this is done
naturally, without reflexion or debate.</P>
<P>'Tis not to be thought, that the&s;e
Figures are only Rhetorical Figments,
invented for ornament of di&s;cour&s;e:
God has not refus'd to the Soul, what
he has given to the Body. The Body
knows how to move, and di&s;po&s;e it &s;elf
dexterou&s;ly, for the repelling of In|juries;
and the Soul may&punc; defend it &s;elf
as well: Nature has not made her im|moveable
upon any in&s;ult: The Figures
imploy'd by her in di&s;cour&s;e, do the
<PB N="100" REF="58">
&s;ame, as Po&s;tures in defence of the
Body. If Po&s;tures be proper for de|fence,
in corporal inva&s;ions; Figures
are as nece&s;&s;ary, in &s;piritual attacks.
Words are the Arms of the Mind,
which &s;he u&s;es, to di&s;&s;wade or per&s;wade,
as occa&s;ion &s;erves. I &s;hall &s;how the effi|cacy
and force of the&s;e Figures, after
I have given a particular definition of
each of them. But it being impo&s;&s;ible
to de&s;cribe all the Po&s;tures which our
Pa&s;&s;ions do dictate to our Bodies, &s;o
'tis as impo&s;&s;ible to enumerate all the
Figures wherewith our Pa&s;&s;ions do fur|ni&s;h
our Di&s;cour&s;e. I &s;hall &s;peak only
of the mo&s;t remarkable, and &s;uch as are
commonly mentioned by all Ma&s;ters in
this Art.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="101" REF="58">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">A Li&s;t of the Figures.</HEAD>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>EXCLAMATION.</HEAD>
<P><HI>EXclamation,</HI> in my judgment, is not
improperly to be plac'd in the Van
of the Figures, &s;eeing it is by that,
our Pa&s;&s;ions do fir&s;t exert, and di&s;cover
them&s;elves in di&s;cour&s;e. <HI>Exclamation,</HI>
is a violent exten&s;ion of the Voice.
When the Soul comes to be di&s;turb'd,
and agitated with a furious impul&s;e,
the animal Spirits pa&s;&s;ing thorough all
the parts of the Body, and thronging
into the Mu&s;cles that are about the Or|gans
of the Voice, &s;well them up in
&s;uch manner, that the pa&s;&s;age being
&s;treight'ned, the Voice comes forth with
more impetuo&s;ity, by rea&s;on of the Pa&s;|&s;ion
that propells it. Every Ebullition
of the Soul is followed by an <HI>Exclama|tion;</HI>
and therefore the Di&s;cour&s;e of a
Man in that condition, is full of the&s;e
<PB N="102" REF="59">
Exclamations, <HI>Alas! Good God! O Hea|vens!
O Earth! &amp;c.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>DOUBT.</HEAD>
<P>The motion of the Pa&s;&s;ions is no le&s;s
changeable and incon&s;tant, than the
Waves of the Sea; and they who aban|don
them&s;elves to the violence of their
Pa&s;&s;ions, are in perpetual di&s;quiet:
They will, and they will not: They
take an Enterprize in hand, and they
quit it immediately: They approve, and
di&s;approve the &s;ame thing in an in&s;tant:
In a word, the incon&s;tancy of their
Pa&s;&s;ion hurries them this way, and
that way, and holding them in con|tinual
irre&s;olution, plays with them,
as the Winds with the Waves of the
Sea. The Figure which in our Di&s;|cour&s;e
repre&s;ents this irre&s;olution is
called <HI>Doubt,</HI> of which we have an ex|cellent
Example in <HI>Virgil</HI>'s De&s;cription
of <HI>Dido</HI>'s anxiety, when <HI>Aeneas</HI> had
given her the &s;lip.</P>
<Q><L>&mdash;What &s;hall I do?</L>
<L>Shall I now &s;corn'd my former Suiters woo?</L>
<L><PB N="103" REF="59">
Make Overtures, &s;ome <HI>Lybian</HI> Prince to
gain?</L>
<L>Lovers whom I &s;o often did di&s;dain:</L>
<L>Or &s;hall I venture in the <HI>Ilian</HI> Fleet,</L>
<L>And to the <HI>Trojans</HI> proud Commands &s;ub|mit?</L>
<L>Since they for my A&s;&s;i&s;tance prove &s;o kind,</L>
<L>And my late Favours bear &s;o well in mind.</L>
<L>Grant I were willing, who would give me
leave,</L>
<L>And me neglected in proud Ships receive?</L>
<L>Ah! ha&s;t thou not &s;ufficiently known</L>
<L>The perjur'd Race of fal&s;e <HI>Laomedon?</HI></L>
<L>Shall I alone with churli&s;h Seamen &s;ail,</L>
<L>Or try if by my power I may prevail?</L>
<L>And tho&s;e who &s;carce I could per&s;wade from
<HI>Eyre,</HI></L>
<L>To venture to the Sea again de&s;ire?</L>
<L>No, Wretch, as thou ha&s;t well de&s;erved, die;</L>
<L>And with a Sword conclude thy Mi&s;erie.</L></Q>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>EPANORTHOSIS.</HEAD>
<P>A Man in his pa&s;&s;ion is never &s;atisfied
with what he either &s;ays or does; the
heat of his indignation carries him &s;till
farther, in &s;o much that his words are
(in his own thoughts) &s;till &s;hort of what
<PB N="104" REF="60">
he would &s;ay; he thinks his fir&s;t ex|pre&s;&s;ion
too weak, and by adding fre&s;h
and more &s;trong, endeavours to correct
them.</P>
<Q><L>Nec tibi Diva Parens, generis nec Dardanus
auctor</L>
<L>Perfide: &s;ed duris genuit te cautibus horrens</L>
<L>Cauca&s;us, Hyrcanaeque adm&ocirc;runt uber a Ti|gres.</L></Q>
<P>The word <HI>Epanortho&s;is</HI> is a <HI>Greek</HI> word,
and the &s;ame with <HI>Correctio</HI> or <HI>Emendatio</HI>
in <HI>Latin.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>ELLIPSIS.</HEAD>
<P>A violent pa&s;&s;ion never permits us
to &s;ay all that we would: The Tongue
is too &s;low to keep pace with the &s;wift|ne&s;s
of its motions; &s;o that when a
Man is cool in Di&s;cour&s;e, his Tongue
is not &s;o full of words, as when he is
animated by pa&s;&s;ion. When our Pa&s;|&s;ions
are interrupted, or diverted ano|ther
way, the Tongue following them,
produces words of no reference or ana|logy
with what we were &s;aying before.
<PB N="105" REF="60">
The old Man in <HI>Terence</HI> was &s;o inrag'd
again&s;t his Son, that he could utter
only the word <HI>Omnium;</HI> his pa&s;&s;ion
was too violent to permit him to go
thorough with his Exprobration, or to
call him as he intended, <HI>Omnium homi|num
pe&s;&s;imus. Ellip&s;is</HI> is the &s;ame thing
with <HI>Omi&s;&s;io,</HI> or <HI>Defectus.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>APOSIOPESIS.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Apo&s;iope&s;is</HI> is a kind of an <HI>Ellip&s;is</HI> or
Omi&s;&s;ion; and it is formed when on a
&s;udden we change our pa&s;&s;ion, or lay
it quite a&s;ide, cutting off our Di&s;cour&s;e
in &s;uch manner, that the Hearer cannot
ea&s;ily divine what it is we intend. This
Figure is u&s;ed mo&s;t commonly upon
occa&s;ion of threatning, as <HI>If I,</HI> &amp;c.
<HI>But,</HI> &amp;c.</P>
<Q>Quos ego. Sed motos prae&s;tat componere
fluctus.</Q>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>PARALIPSIS.</HEAD>
<P>This Figure is a pretended de&s;ire in
us to omit what we &s;ay, and it is natural
<PB N="106" REF="61">
enough. When a Man is inraged, Ar|guments
pre&s;ent them&s;elves in crowds
to his Mind: He would willingly make
u&s;e of them all, but fears they may be
trouble&s;ome: Be&s;ides, the activity of
his agitation hinders him from enlar|ging
upon all of them, &s;o he is forc'd
to deliver them in a huddle, and pre|tend
that he has not &s;o much time as
they require to be dilated on. <HI>I will not
&s;peak (Gentlemen) of the Injury that my
Enemy has done me: I am willing to forget
the wrong that I have received from him:
I &s;hut mine Eyes at all his contrivances a|gain&s;t
me.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>REPETITION.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Repetition</HI> is a Figure very ordinary
among tho&s;e who &s;peak in a heat, or
are impatient to make us under&s;tand
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 &s;hould not do the bu&s;ine&s;s: So
in Speaking, if we think our fir&s;t words
not well under&s;tood, we repeat them,
<PB N="107" REF="61">
or explain them another way. Pa&s;|&s;ion
having got the Ma&s;tery of us,
po&s;&s;e&s;&s;es it &s;elf of our Minds, and im|prints
&s;trongly in us tho&s;e things which
have cau&s;ed it; of which the Mind be|ing
very full, no wonder if we &s;peak
with emotion. <HI>Repetition</HI> is made two
ways; when we repeat the &s;ame words,
or when we repeat the &s;ame thing in
different words. <HI>Cicero</HI> gives us an Ex|ample
of the former, in his fir&s;t Ora|tion
again&s;t <HI>Catiline: Nihil agis, nihil
nihil moliris, quod ego non modo, non audiam,
&s;ed etiam vide am plan&eacute;que &s;entiam.</HI> And
<HI>Pro&s;per</HI> has another of the &s;econd, where
in different manners he expre&s;&s;es this
&s;ingle Truth, <HI>That of our &s;elves we can
do nothing well, but only by the a&s;&s;i&s;tance
of Divine Grace.</HI> In repeating the &s;ame
words, there are ways of di&s;po&s;ing
them with &s;uch art, that an&s;wering
one another, they make an excellent
Cadence, and are very plea&s;ing to the
Ear. The&s;e are called harmonious Re|petitions,
of which I &s;hall &s;peak farther
in my following Book.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<PB N="108" REF="62">
<HEAD>PLEONASMUS.</HEAD>
<P>A <HI>Pleona&s;m</HI> is when we u&s;e more
words than are nece&s;&s;ary, as when I
&s;ay, <HI>I heard &s;uch a thing with my Ears.</HI>
The word is <HI>Greek,</HI> and &s;ignifies the
&s;ame with <HI>Redundantia</HI> in <HI>Latin.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>SYNONYMIA.</HEAD>
<P>A <HI>Synonomie</HI> is when the &s;ame thing
is expre&s;&s;ed by &s;everal words that have
but one and the &s;ame &s;ignification: And
this happens, when the Mouth being
too narrow for the Heart, we make u&s;e
of all the words we can remember to
expre&s;s our thoughts, as <HI>Abiit, Eva&s;it,
Erupit; He went away, He e&s;cap'd, He fled.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>HYPOTYPOSIS.</HEAD>
<P>The Objects of our Pa&s;&s;ions are al|mo&s;t
always pre&s;ent to our Minds: We
fancy we &s;ee and hear tho&s;e continually,
who have made any &s;trong impre&s;&s;ion
upon our Minds.</P>
<Q><PB N="109" REF="62">
Illum ab&s;ens ab&s;entem auditque videtque.</Q>
<P>For which rea&s;on, all De&s;criptions
of the&s;e Objects are lively and exact.
They are called <HI>Hypotypo&s;es</HI> becau&s;e they
figure the things, and form an Image
of them, that repre&s;ents the things
them&s;elves. The word is a <HI>Greek</HI> word,
and &s;ignifies to repre&s;ent or delineate.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>DISTRIBUTION.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Di&s;tribution</HI> is a kind of <HI>Hypotypo&s;is,</HI>
u&s;ed when we enumerate the parts of
the Object of our Pa&s;&s;ion. <HI>David</HI> &s;up|plies
us with an Example, when in
the heat of his indignation again&s;t Sin|ners,
he gives a de&s;cription of their
Iniquity: <HI>Their throat is an open &s;epul|chre,
they flatter with their tongues; the
poi&s;on of A&s;ps is under their lips; their
mouth is full of cur&s;ing and lyes; and their
feet are &s;wift to &s;hed blood.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<PB N="110" REF="63">
<HEAD>ANTITHESIS.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Antithe&s;es,</HI> Compari&s;ons, and Simi|litudes,
which are Figures proper to
repre&s;ent things with clearne&s;s, are the
effects of that &s;trong impre&s;&s;ion made
upon us by the Pa&s;&s;ion that animates
us, of which by con&s;equence it is an
ea&s;ie matter to di&s;cour&s;e clearly and ex|actly,
having it as it were pre&s;ent be|fore
the Eyes of our Mind. <HI>Contraria
juxta &s;e po&s;ita, magis eluce&s;cunt.</HI> And
white plac'd by black is the more illu|&s;trious.
We have an Example of an
<HI>Antithe&s;is</HI> in <HI>Pro&s;per,</HI> where &s;peaking of
tho&s;e who act without the impul&s;ion of
the Holy Spirit, he &s;ays,
<Q><L>Leur ame en cet &eacute;tat recule en s'avancant,</L>
<L>En voulant monter tombe, et perd en ama&s;|&s;ant:</L>
<L>Comme elle &s;uit l'attrait d'une lu eur trom|peu&s;e,</L>
<L>Sa lumiere l'offu&s;que, et la rend tenebreu&s;e.</L></Q></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<PB N="111" REF="63">
<HEAD>SIMILITUDE.</HEAD>
<P>For a <HI>Similitude,</HI> I cannot give a
better Pattern than out of the Para|phra&s;e
upon the Fir&s;t of King <HI>David</HI>'s
<HI>P&s;alms,</HI> where &s;peaking of the Happi|ne&s;s
of the Ju&s;t Man, it &s;ays,
<Q><L>He &s;hall be like a Tree by th' Waters &s;ide,</L>
<L>Who&s;e root receives the tribute tide;</L>
<L>The tender Plant does into vigour grow,</L>
<L>Is always green, has always fruit,</L>
<L>Extends into the &s;treams its root,</L>
<L>And &s;preads in top as that does &s;pread below.</L></Q>
<Q><L>So &s;hall the Righteous flouri&s;h, and that Hand</L>
<L>That planted him at fir&s;t &s;hall make him stand:</L>
<L>No &s;torm or drought again&s;t him &s;hall prevail.</L>
<L>But bending to the &s;treams his root,</L>
<L>He &s;hall be green, he &s;hall have fruit,</L>
<L>Which 'till they cea&s;e to flow &s;hall never fail.</L></Q></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>COMPARISON.</HEAD>
<P>The difference is not great betwixt
a <HI>Similitude</HI> and a <HI>Compari&s;on,</HI> unle&s;s it
<PB N="112" REF="64">
be in this, that a <HI>Compari&s;on</HI> is more
&s;pritely and emphatical, as appears in
this <HI>Compari&s;on,</HI> wherein <HI>David</HI> &s;hows,
that he preferr'd the Law of God before
all things, <HI>P&s;.</HI> 19.</P>
<Q><L>The fine&s;t Gold near them looks wan and
pale,</L>
<L>And Honey from the Comb does of its won|ted
&s;weetne&s;s fail.</L></Q>
<P>But there are two things to be ob|&s;erved
in Compari&s;ons: The fir&s;t is,
We are not to require an exact analogy
and proportion betwixt all the parts of
a Compari&s;on, and the Subject of which
we &s;peak. Certain things are in&s;erted
only to render the Compari&s;ons more
lively, as in that which <HI>Virgil</HI> makes
of the young <HI>Ligurian</HI> vanqui&s;h'd by
<HI>Camillus,</HI> with a Pigeon in the Pounces
of an Hawk: After he had &s;aid what
he thought fit of the principal, to which
the Compari&s;on related, he adds,
<Q>Tum Cruor, &amp; Vul&s;ae labuntur ab aethere
plumae.</Q></P>
<P><PB N="113" REF="64">
Which belongs not to the Compari&s;on,
but is brought in only to make a more
&s;en&s;ible de&s;cription of a Pigeon torn in
pieces by a Hawk. The &s;econd thing
to be ob&s;erved in favour of that excel|lent
Poet, I have thought good to in|&s;ert,
to defend him from the Critici&s;ms
of tho&s;e who condemn his Compari|&s;ons
as too mean and low. But it is
with much Art that this Great Man,
in his <HI>Aeneids,</HI> makes his Compari&s;ons
of mean things: He does it to ea&s;e and
relax the Mind of the Reader, whom
the Grandeur and Dignity of his Matter
had held in too &s;trong an intention;
and to di&s;cern that this was his de&s;ign,
we need no more than to con&s;ider the
Compari&s;ons in his <HI>Georgicks,</HI> which
are lofty and &s;trong.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>SUSPENSION.</HEAD>
<P>When we begin our Di&s;cour&s;e in &s;uch
manner, that the Hearer knows not
what we mean, and the expectation of
&s;ome great thing makes him attentive,
that Figure is called <HI>Su&s;pen&s;io. Breboeuf</HI>
has an Example of it in his <HI>Solitary
<PB N="114" REF="65">
Entertainments,</HI> where &s;peaking of God
he &s;ays:
<Q><L>Les ombres de la nuit, a la clart&egrave; de jour;</L>
<L>Les tran&s;ports de la rage aux douceurs de
l'amour;</L>
<L>A l'etroite amitie, la di&s;cord ou l'envie;</L>
<L>Le plus bruiant orage, au calm le plus doux;</L>
<L>La douleur aux plai&s;ers; le trepas &agrave; la vie;</L>
<L>Sont bein moins oppo&s;ez que le pecheur a
Vous.</L></Q>
<Q><L>Darkne&s;s to Light, cold Winters Fro&s;t
to Fire,</L>
<L>Tran&s;ports of Rage to Sweetne&s;&s;es of
Love,</L>
<L>Loud roaring Tempe&s;ts to the &s;moothe&s;t
Calm,</L>
<L>Torments to Plea&s;ure, Death it &s;elf to
Life;</L>
<L>Are not &s;o oppo&s;ite, as Sin to Thee.</L></Q></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>PROSOPOPEIA.</HEAD>
<P><HI>When a Pa&s;&s;ion is violent, it renders
them mad in &s;ome mea&s;ure that are
po&s;&s;e&s;s'd with it. In that ca&s;e, we en|tertain
our &s;elves with Rocks, and with
<PB N="115" REF="65">
dead Men, as if they were living, and
make them &s;peak as if they had Souls.</HI>
Good God, Protector of Innocency, permit
that the Order of Nature may be interrupted
for a moment, and that this dead Carka&s;s
loo&s;ening its Tongue, may re&s;ume the u&s;e
of its Voice! Me thinks God Almighty
grants this Miracle to my Prayers: Do you
not hear the Carka&s;s (Gentlemen) publi&s;hing
my Innocence, and declaring the Authors
of its Death? If it be ju&s;t re&s;entment (&s;ays
the Carka&s;s) again&s;t the Author of my death,
that animates you, turn your indignation
again&s;t this Calumniator, who triumphs in
an ab&s;olute &s;ecurity, having loaden this In|nocent
with the burden of his Crime.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>SENTENCE.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Sentences</HI> are but reflexions made
upon a thing that &s;urprizes, and de|&s;erves
to be con&s;ider'd. They con&s;i&s;t
commonly in few energetical words,
that comprehend great &s;en&s;e, as in this:
<HI>There is no di&s;gui&s;e that can long conceal
Love where it is, or di&s;&s;emble it where it
is not.</HI> The reflexion which <HI>Lucan</HI> makes
upon the Errour of the ancient <HI>Gauls,</HI>
<PB N="116" REF="66">
who believed the Tran&s;migration of
the Soul, will &s;erve for an Example of
a more prolix Sentence.</P>
<Q><L>&mdash;But tho&s;e wild People happy are</L>
<L>In this their Error, whom Fear greate&s;t far</L>
<L>Of all Fears injures not, the Fear of
Death;</L>
<L>Thence are they prone to War; nor lo&s;s of
Breath</L>
<L>E&s;teem; nor &s;pare a Life that comes again.</L></Q>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>EPIPHONEMA.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Epiphonema</HI> is an Exclamation con|taining
&s;ome Sentence, or great Sen&s;e,
plac'd at the end of a di&s;cour&s;e: It is
the la&s;t touch or &s;troke wherewith we
would affect our Auditors, and a pre&s;|&s;ing
and lively reflexion upon the Sub|ject
whereof we &s;peak: This <HI>Hemi&s;tich</HI>
of <HI>Virgil</HI> is an <HI>Epiphonema:</HI>
<Q>&mdash;Tantaene animis Coele&s;tibus irae?</Q></P>
<P><HI>Lucan</HI> fini&s;hes by a kind of <HI>Epiphonema</HI>
the Complaint of the Inhabitants of
<HI>Rimini</HI> again&s;t the Situation of their
<PB N="117" REF="66">
City, which was expos'd to the fir&s;t
Commotions in all the Wars, both Civil
and Foreign.</P>
<Q><L>&mdash;Quoties Romam fortuna lace&s;&s;it,</L>
<L>H&acirc;c iter e&s;t bellis&mdash;</L></Q>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>INTERROGATION.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Interrogation</HI> is very much u&s;ed in
Di&s;cour&s;e, our Pa&s;&s;ion produces it fre|quently
towards them we would per|&s;wade,
and makes us addre&s;s our &s;elves
wholly to them; &s;o that this Figure
is very u&s;eful to fix the attention of our
Auditors to what we would have them
under&s;tand. The Prophet <HI>David</HI> gives
us a lively in&s;tance, when in the Tenth
<HI>P&s;alm</HI> he &s;eems to expo&s;tulate with God
Almighty, and que&s;tion him for aban|doning
the Innocent in the time of their
Trouble.</P>
<Q><L>My God, why do&s;t thou thus thy &s;elf with|draw,</L>
<L>And make as if thou did&s;t not &s;ee</L>
<L>Tho&s;e mi&s;eries, which are better known to thee,</L>
<L>Than him who bears their &s;harpe&s;t law?</L>
<L><PB N="118" REF="67">
Why do&s;t thou thus thy face in trouble hide?</L>
<L>'Twere Hell, &s;hould I be ever &s;o deni'd.</L></Q>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>APOSTROPHE.</HEAD>
<P>An <HI>Apo&s;trophe</HI> is when a Man in ex|traordinary
commotion, turns him&s;elf
on all &s;ides, and addre&s;&s;es to the Hea|vens,
the Earth, the Rocks, the Fo|re&s;ts,
things &s;en&s;ible and in&s;en&s;ible: He
makes no difference in his fury, but
&s;earches every where for &s;uccour, quar|rels
with every thing, like a Child bea|ting
the ground upon which he has
fallen: So <HI>David,</HI> in the Fir&s;t Chapter
of the Second Book of <HI>Samuel,</HI> lamen|ting
the Death of <HI>Saul</HI> and <HI>Jonathan,</HI>
cur&s;es the Mountains of <HI>Gilboa</HI> where
that Tragedy was acted: <HI>Ye Mountains
of</HI> Gilboa <HI>let there be no Dew, neither let
there be Rain upon you, nor Field Offerings,
&amp;c.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>PROLEPSIS &amp; HYPOBOLE.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Prolep&s;is</HI> is a Figure by which we pre|vent
what might be objected by the
Adver&s;ary; and <HI>Hypobole</HI> is the manner
<PB N="119" REF="67">
of an&s;wering tho&s;e Objections which
we have prevented. We may find an
Example of the&s;e two Figures in S. <HI>Paul</HI>'s
Fir&s;t Epi&s;tle to the <HI>Corinthians,</HI> chap. 15.
where &s;peaking of the Re&s;urrection to
come, he an&s;wers a Que&s;tion that might
be objected: <HI>But &s;ome will &s;ay, how are
the dead rai&s;ed up? and with what body
do they come? Thou Fool, that which thou
&s;owe&s;t is not quickned except it dye: And
when thou &s;owe&s;t, thou &s;owe&s;t not that body
that &s;hall grow up, but only the grain per|haps
of wheat, perhaps of &s;ome other thing.</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>COMMUNICATION.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Communication</HI> is, when deliberating
with our Auditors, we de&s;ire their
Judgments: As, <HI>What would you do (Gentle|men)
in the like ca&s;e? Would you take other
Mea&s;ures than,</HI> &amp;c. 'Tis a kind of <HI>Com|munication</HI>
that St. <HI>Paul</HI> u&s;es in the Sixth
Chapter to the <HI>Romans,</HI> where having
reckon'd up the advantages of Grace,
and the mi&s;eries that follow Sin, he
demands of the <HI>Romans, What fruit had
ye then in tho&s;e things whereof ye are now
a&s;hamed, for the end of tho&s;e things is
death?</HI></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<PB N="120" REF="68">
<HEAD>CONFESSION.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Confe&s;&s;ion</HI> is an acknowledgment of
our faults, and &s;uch an acknowledg|ment
as ingages the per&s;on to whom it
is addre&s;s'd to pardon the fault, the
hopes of which pardon gives us the
confidence to confe&s;s. And this is a
Figure very frequent in the <HI>P&s;alms</HI> of
<HI>David,</HI> and particularly in the Twenty
fifth <HI>P&s;alm.</HI></P>
<Q><L>Let not my &s;ins to thy remembrance come,</L>
<L>Nor all tho&s;e &s;pots which &s;tain'd my youth;</L>
<L>But wa&s;h them out, and mindful of thy truth,</L>
<L>Receive the Prodigal returning home,</L>
<L>And let thy Mercy for thy ancient Love make room.</L></Q>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>EPITROPE or CONSENT.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Sometimes we grant a thing freely,
that might be deny'd, to obtain ano|ther,
that we de&s;ire. This Figure is
frequently malicious, and carries a &s;ting
<PB N="121" REF="68">
in the tail.</HI> Cic. pro Flacco. Tribuo Graecis
Literas, do multarum artium di&s;ciplinam,
ingeniorum acumen, dicendi copiam; deni|que
etiam &s;i qua &s;ibi alia &s;umunt, non re|pugno;
te&s;timoniorum religionem &amp; fidem
nunquam ratio i&s;ta coluit. <HI>On the con|trary,
&s;ometimes it has a healing clo&s;e,
as,</HI> Sit &s;acrilegus, &s;it fur, &s;it flagitiorum
omnium vitiorumque princeps; at e&s;t bonus
Imperator.</P>
<P>By this Figure it is, that we invite
our Enemy &s;ometimes to do all the mi&s;|chief
he can&punc; in order to give him a
&s;en&s;e and horror of his Cruelty. It is
common likewi&s;e in the Complaints be|twixt
Friends, as when <HI>Ari&s;teus,</HI> in
<HI>Virgil,</HI> complains to his Mother:
<Q><L>Quin age, &amp; ip&s;a manu felices erue &s;ylvas,</L>
<L>Fer &s;tabulis inimicum ignem, atque inter&s;ice
me&s;&s;es,</L>
<L>Ure &s;ata, &amp; validam in vites molire bi|pennem:</L>
<L>Tanta meae &s;i te coeperunt toedia laudis.</L>
<L>Go and my fertile Groves thy &s;elf annoy,</L>
<L>And burn my Stalls, with Fire my Corn
de&s;troy,</L>
<L><PB N="122" REF="69">
Hew down and &s;poil my Vineyards; if
to thee</L>
<L>So grievous are tho&s;e Honours granted
me.</L></Q></P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 TYPE="subsection">
<HEAD>PERIPHRASIS.</HEAD>
<P><HI>Periphra&s;is</HI> is a Circumlocution, u&s;ed
to avoid certain words who&s;e Idea's are
unplea&s;ing; and to prevent the &s;peaking
of &s;ome things that would produce ill
Effects. <HI>Cicero</HI> being forc'd to confe&s;s
that <HI>Clodius</HI> was &s;lain by <HI>Milo,</HI> did
it with addre&s;s: <HI>The Servants of</HI> Milo
(&s;ays he) <HI>being hindred from &s;uccouring
their Ma&s;ter (whom</HI> Clodius <HI>was reported
to have kill'd) and believing it to be true,
they did in his ab&s;ence, without his know|ledge
or con&s;ent, what every body would
have expected from his Servants upon the
like occa&s;ion.</HI> In which he avoids the
words <HI>kill</HI> and <HI>put to death,</HI> as words in|grateful
(if not odious) to the Ear.</P>
</DIV4>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="123" REF="69">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Number of Figures is infinite,
each Figure being to be made an
hundred different ways.</HEAD>
<P>I Have not &s;et down in this Li&s;t the
<HI>Hyperboles,</HI> the <HI>Grand Metaphors,</HI> and
&s;everal other Tropes, becau&s;e I have
&s;poken of them el&s;ewhere. They are
neverthele&s;s true Figures, and though
the &s;carcity of Language obliges us
many times to make u&s;e of the&s;e Tro|pical
Expre&s;&s;ions, even when we are
quiet and at ea&s;e; yet they are more
commonly u&s;ed when we are under a
Tran&s;port. 'Tis our Pa&s;&s;ion that makes
Objects appear to us extraordinary, and
by con&s;equence is the Cau&s;e that we
have not common Terms to repre&s;ent
them either &s;o big, or &s;o little as they
appear. Be&s;ides that I never pretended
to &s;peak of all the Figures, it would
require a large Volume to de&s;cribe the
Characters of our Pa&s;&s;ions in Di&s;cour&s;e,
<PB N="124" REF="70">
as well as tho&s;e which the &s;ame Pa&s;&s;ions
do de&s;cribe 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
&s;earch in other peoples Works, for that
wherewith our own Brea&s;t may &s;upply
us. If we would know the Figures of
Choler, we need no more than watch
what we naturally &s;ay, when we are
tran&s;ported with that Pa&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>In a word, it is not to be imagin'd,
that all Figures are to be framed accor|ding
to the Examples which I have
u&s;ed; or that I intended them as Uni|ver&s;al
Models for all the Figures that I
have mention'd. <HI>Apo&s;trophes, Interro|gations,
Antithe&s;es,</HI> may be made an
hundred &s;everal ways. It is not Art
that regulates them; it is not Study that
&s;hows them: They are the Natural Ef|fects
of Pa&s;&s;ion, as I have &s;aid before,
and &s;hall demon&s;trate more at large in
the following Chapter.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="125" REF="70">
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Figures are the Arms of the Soul. A
Compari&s;on betwixt a Soldier Fight|ing,
and an Orator Speaking.</HEAD>
<P>VVE have &s;hown the Nece&s;&s;ity
and Advantage of Figures
by three Rea&s;ons, of which the two
fir&s;t have been &s;ufficiently explain'd.
The third (that Figures are the Arms of
the Soul) is &s;till to be clear'd; where|fore
for better illu&s;tration, and to give
it the deeper Impre&s;&s;ion upon our
Mind, I will in this place de&s;cribe a
Soldier fighting, his Sword in his hand;
and an Orator &s;peaking in a Cau&s;e, that
he has undertaken to defend. I &s;hall
make a Parallel of the&s;e two &s;orts of
Combats, and con&s;ider a Soldier in
three Conditions: The fir&s;t, when he
<PB N="126" REF="71">
fights with equal force, and his Enemy
has no advantage over him. The &s;e|cond,
when he is inviron'd with dan|ger.
And the third, when being ob|liged
to yield to the power of his Ene|my,
he has no recour&s;e but to the Cle|mency
of the Victor. I &s;hall carefully
ob&s;erve the Po&s;tures which he u&s;es in
all the&s;e three Conditions, and &s;how,
that in Di&s;cour&s;e there are Figures cor|re&s;ponding
to all the&s;e Po&s;tures, with
which they have a natural re&s;emblance.</P>
<P>In the fir&s;t Condition, the Soldiers
intention is applied to the finding out
ways of obtaining the Victory; &s;ome|times
he is upon the offen&s;ive, &s;ome|times
upon the defen&s;ive part; &s;ome|times
he advances, &s;ometimes he re|treats;
he pretends to give ground, and
returns with greater impetuo&s;ity; he
redoubles his blows, he threatens and
contemns the Efforts of his Adver&s;ary.
Sometimes he puts him&s;elf forward,
and fights with more ardour and vehe|mence.
He con&s;iders the De&s;igns of
his Enemy, and po&s;&s;e&s;&s;es him&s;elf of the
advantagious ground. In a word, he
is in perpetual motion, and always
<PB N="127" REF="71">
di&s;pos'd either for defence or inva|&s;ion.</P>
<P>When the Mind is inflam'd, and
di&s;pos'd to combat by Words, the
Pa&s;&s;ions with which it is provok'd,
with no le&s;s heat excite it to find out
Rea&s;ons and Arguments to evince the
Truths which it a&s;&s;erts. In the heat
and impatience that every man has to
defend him&s;elf, and make good what he
affirms, the &s;ame things are many times
repeated, and delivered in different
manners: Sometimes with <HI>De&s;criptions,
Hypotypo&s;es, Compari&s;ons, Similitudes.</HI> Some|times
we prevent what the Adver&s;ary
would &s;ay, and &s;ometimes we an&s;wer
it. Sometimes as a token of confidence
we grant all that is de&s;ir'd, and pretend
not to make u&s;e of all the Rea&s;ons that
the Ju&s;tice of our Cau&s;e would &s;ugge&s;t.</P>
<P>A Soldier keeps his Enemy in breath;
the &s;trokes that he makes at him con|tinually,
the a&s;&s;aults that he makes at
him on all &s;ides, the different ways of
his attacks and retreats, keeps him con|&s;tantly
waking. An Orator entertains
the Attention of his Auditors; when
their thoughts are &s;traggling, he reduces
<PB N="128" REF="72">
them by <HI>Apo&s;trophes;</HI> and by <HI>Interro|gations</HI>
obliges them to whom they are
directed to give him an an&s;wer. He
awakens them, and recollects them by
frequent Exclamations, Reiterations,
<HI>&amp;c.</HI></P>
<P>Having con&s;ider'd this Repre&s;enta|tion
of a Soldier combating with &s;uc|ce&s;s;
let us next repre&s;ent to your Eyes
the Image of another Soldier, inviron'd
with danger, without any hopes of re|lief.
Sadne&s;s forces Tears from his
Eyes, and Sighs from his Brea&s;t. In|dignation
exa&s;perates him again&s;t the
Enemy, and Fear pulls him pre&s;ently
back. He &s;tands immoveable, and un|re&s;olv'd,
whil&s;t in the mean time his
de&s;ire to e&s;cape the impending danger,
pre&s;&s;es and inflames him. After this he
tryes all &s;orts of ways; he excites, he
animates him&s;elf: His Pa&s;&s;ion renders
him dexterous and cunning, it furni&s;hes
him with Arms, and he makes u&s;e of
every thing he can reach for his defence.
Can we &s;tifle the Sentiments of di&s;plea|&s;ure
that we feel, and not te&s;tifie them
by Exclamations, by Complaints, by
Reproaches, when we perceive the
<PB N="129" REF="72">
Truth (which we love &s;o well) ob&s;tru|cted,
or ob&s;cur'd? In the&s;e occa&s;ions,
our great ardour and impatience to &s;e|cure
it again&s;t the Clouds wherewith
it is obfu&s;cated, makes us accumulate
Arguments, and heap proof upon proof.
Sometimes we explain them; &s;ome|times
having propos'd them only, we
leave them, to an&s;wer the Objections
of the Adver&s;ary. Sometimes we are &s;i|lent,
in great irre&s;olution 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 in&s;ufficient, Nature her &s;elf mu&s;t
Apo&s;trophize; we make the Stones
&s;peak, the Dead to come forth of their
Graves; the Heaven and Earth are in|vok'd
to fortifie by their te&s;timony the
Truth, for the e&s;tabli&s;hment of which
we &s;peak with &s;o much heat.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<PB N="130" REF="73">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">A Continuation of the Parallel betwixt
a Soldier Fighting, and an Orator
Pleading in defence of his Cau&s;e.</HEAD>
<P>TO complete the Parallel that I have
begun, betwixt a Soldier and an
Orator, I con&s;ider 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 ca&s;e, he throws away his Arms
as unu&s;eful; there is nothing of threat|ning
or fury in his countenance. His
chief Weapon is his Tears; he humbles
him&s;elf more than his Enemy would
humble him; he pro&s;trates him&s;elf at
his Feet, and embraces his Knees: Man
is made, to obey tho&s;e upon whom he
depends, or by whom he is maintain'd;
and to command his Inferiours that ac|knowledge
his Juri&s;diction: He does
both the one and the other with plea|&s;ure.
Two per&s;ons are bound very
<PB N="131" REF="73">
&s;trictly together, when the one has
need of relief and de&s;ires it, and the
other has power to relieve and applies
it. God having made Mankind to live
together, has formed them with the&s;e
Natural Inclinations: A per&s;on in Af|fliction
betakes him&s;elf naturally to all
po&s;tures of Humility, that may make
him appear inferiour to the per&s;on of
whom he begs; and we cannot, with|out
re&s;i&s;ting the Sentiments of Nature,
refu&s;e to per&s;ons &s;o humbled, the Suc|cours
that they implore: We &s;upply
them with a &s;ecret delight, which is
as it were our recompence and reward
(in &s;ome mea&s;ure) for the Comforts we
be&s;tow. It is by this way of Compen|&s;ation,
that a Trade and Commerce is
maintain'd betwixt the poor and the
rich, betwixt the mi&s;erable and the
happy.</P>
<P>In Di&s;cour&s;e there are Figures which
an&s;wer to the&s;e Po&s;tures of Affliction
and Humility, to which the Orators
have frequent recour&s;e. Men being
free, it is at their own choice whether
they will &s;uffer them&s;elves to be per|&s;waded;
they can turn away their face,
<PB N="132" REF="74">
and not &s;ee the Truth that is propos'd
to them; or they can di&s;&s;emble that
they know it. So an Orator is many
times in this third Condition, wherein
we con&s;ider our Soldier. When he
finds he mu&s;t yield, and his de&s;ire to
pre&s;erve him&s;elf obliges him to be hum|ble,
that he may obtain that by Sup|plication,
that he cannot hope to com|pa&s;s
by force of Argument, his Elo|quence
is imploy'd to po&s;&s;e&s;s his Adver|ver&s;ary
of the unfortunate Condition
to which he is reduc'd; Prayers are
commonly full of de&s;criptions of his
Mi&s;ery who makes them. <HI>Job</HI> expo&s;tu|lating
with God, tells Him, <HI>That he is
but a leaf, with which the winds do &s;port
them&s;elves; and as a dry &s;tubble. Contra
folium quod vento rapitur, o&s;tendis poten|tiam
tuam, &amp; &s;tipulam &s;iccam per&s;equeris.</HI>
And <HI>David, P&s;al.</HI> 6.</P>
<Q><L>I weary out the day with &s;ighs,</L>
<L>And when that's done the night
with tears;</L>
<L>So va&s;t a deep comes rolling from my eyes,</L>
<L>That down its tide my bed it almo&s;t
bears;</L>
<L>Yet though it wa&s;h my couch, it cannot drown
my fears.</L></Q>
<P><PB N="133" REF="74">
In a word, as there are Figures to
threaten, to reproach, and to terrifie;
there are Figures al&s;o to pray, to miti|gate,
and flatter.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Figures illu&s;trate ob&s;cure Truths, and
render the Mind attentive.</HEAD>
<P>VVE cannot doubt of a known
Truth: We may que&s;tion it
with our Mouth, but our Heart mu&s;t
be thoroughly convinc'd. To triumph
therefore upon the ob&s;tinacy or igno|rance
of tho&s;e who oppo&s;e it, it is &s;uf|ficient
to expo&s;e the light of it to their
Eyes, and to bring it &s;o near, that the
&s;trength of its impre&s;&s;ion may awaken
them, and oblige them to be attentive.
Figures do extreamly contribute to the
removing the&s;e two fir&s;t ob&s;tacles, that
hinder a Truth from being known,
and help its ob&s;curity, and the defect
of our attention. They are u&s;eful to
illu&s;trate and explain it; they force the
<PB N="134" REF="75">
Hearer to an attention; they awaken
him, and &s;trike him &s;o lively, that they
do not &s;uffer him to &s;leep, nor keep the
Eyes of his Mind &s;hut up to the Truths
that are propos'd.</P>
<P>My De&s;ign being in my Li&s;t of Fi|gures,
to in&s;ert only tho&s;e which the
Rhetoricians do place frequently in that
number, I will not &s;peak of <HI>Syllogi&s;ms,</HI>
of <HI>Enthimems,</HI> of <HI>Dilemma's,</HI> and other
kind of Arguments that are u&s;ed in
Logick; and yet it is manife&s;t they are
real Figures, being extraordinary ways
of rea&s;oning never u&s;ed but in pa&s;&s;ion,
or ardent de&s;ire to per&s;wade or di&s;&s;wade
tho&s;e to whom we &s;peak. The&s;e Rea|&s;onings
or Figures are wonderfully
effectual in this, That joyning a clear
and inconte&s;table Propo&s;ition, with
another that is more doubtful and con|te&s;table,
the clearne&s;s of the one di&s;&s;i|pates
the ob&s;curity of the other, and
the two Propo&s;itions being &s;trictly con|nexed,
if the rea&s;oning be good, we
cannot grant the one to be true, but
we mu&s;t confe&s;s the other to be &s;o like|wi&s;e.</P>
<P>A &s;olid Argument &s;uppre&s;&s;es and di&s;|arms
<PB N="135" REF="75">
the mo&s;t ob&s;tinate Adver&s;ary: O|ther
Figures are not indeed of that
force and conviction, but yet they are
not unprofitable. <HI>Repetitions</HI> and <HI>Syno|nyma</HI>
do illu&s;trate a Truth. If our fir&s;t
Expre&s;&s;ion be too weak, the &s;econd
makes us intelligible. The <HI>Synonyma</HI>
when added, are &s;o many new &s;trokes
of a Pencil, that make tho&s;e Lines
vi&s;ible, which before were incomplete.</P>
<P>When our impatience to be under|&s;tood,
gives us ju&s;t occa&s;ion to fear we
have not &s;ufficiently explain'd our
&s;elves, we dilate upon things the more,
and are more copious in our Expre&s;|&s;ion.
If our Hearers have not been
attentive, we repeat a &s;econd time
what we have &s;aid before. What
darkne&s;s can obfu&s;cate the verity of a
thing that an Eloquent Per&s;on explains?
of which, he makes <HI>De&s;criptions,</HI> and
<HI>Enumerations,</HI> (that lead us (if I may
&s;o &s;ay) thorough all the corners and
rece&s;&s;es of an Affair) and &s;uch <HI>Hypoty|po&s;es,</HI>
and <HI>Illu&s;trations,</HI> as carry us tho|rough
all difficulties, and by a plea&s;ant
Enchantment makes us believe we be|hold
the things them&s;elves? An <HI>Anti|the&s;is</HI>
<PB N="136" REF="76">
is no idle ornament; oppo&s;ition
of contrary things, contributes excee|dingly
to the clearing of a Truth. Sha|dows
add much to the beauty of Co|lours.</P>
<P>Our Minds are not equally open to
all kind of Truths. We comprehend
much more ea&s;ily things that are ob|vious
every day, and in common u&s;e
among Men; than tho&s;e which are rare,
and mention'd but &s;eldom. For which
Rea&s;on, <HI>Compari&s;ons</HI> and <HI>Similitudes,</HI>
drawn ordinarily from &s;en&s;ible things,
give us a more ea&s;ie penetration into
the mo&s;t ab&s;tracted and ab&s;tru&s;e Truths.
There is nothing &s;o &s;ubtil and &s;ublime,
but may be made intelligible to the
weake&s;t Under&s;tanding, if among the
things which they know, or are capa|ble
of knowing, we can find out in|geniou&s;ly
&s;uch as have re&s;emblance or
&s;imilitude with tho&s;e which we would
explain to them. We have an excel|lent
Example of this Addre&s;s, in a Di&s;|cour&s;e
that Mon&s;ieur <HI>Pa&s;chal</HI> made to a
young Nobleman, to give him a true
Notion of his Condition. His <HI>Parabole</HI>
is thus:</P>
<P><PB N="137" REF="76">
A certain Per&s;on is ca&s;t by Tempe&s;t
into an unknown I&s;land, who&s;e Inha|bitants
were in great pain to find out
their King who was lo&s;t. The Per&s;on
having much re&s;emblance, both in
Body and Feature with the King, is
taken for him, and recognis'd in that
quality by the People. At fir&s;t he was
&s;urpris'd, and knew not how he was
to &s;teer; but upon &s;econd thoughts he
re&s;olved to follow his Fortune, receiv'd
all the re&s;pects that they paid him, and
&s;uffer'd him&s;elf to be treated as their
King.</P>
<P>But being unable to forget his natural
condition, it &s;tuck in his Mind at the
&s;ame time that he received their For|malities,
that he was not the King for
whom they &s;ought, and that the King|dom
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 a&s;&s;ured, that it was only Chance
which had placed him where he was:
This la&s;t thought he conceal'd to him|&s;elf,
the other he di&s;cover'd: By the
fir&s;t, he treated with the People; by the
la&s;t, he treated with him&s;elf.</P>
<P><PB N="138" REF="77">
By this Example Mon&s;ieur <HI>Pa&s;chal</HI>
&s;ignified 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. In&s;tructing
him in that manner what Sentiments
he ought to have of his condition, and
making him under&s;tand Truths, which
would have been above the Capacity
of his Age, had he not (as I may &s;ay)
brought them down to the Intellect of
him whom he de&s;ired to in&s;truct.</P>
<P>Were Men Lovers of Truth, to pro|po&s;e
it to them in a lively and &s;en&s;ible
way, would be &s;ufficient to per&s;wade
them: But they hate it, becau&s;e it ac|commodates
but &s;eldom with their In|tere&s;ts,
and is &s;eldom made out, but
to the di&s;covery of their Crimes: In
&s;o much that they are affraid of its
lu&s;tre, and &s;hut their Eyes that they
may not behold it. They &s;tifle the
natural love that Men have for it, and
harden them&s;elves again&s;t the &s;aluti|ferous
&s;trokes that &s;he &s;trikes upon the
<PB N="139" REF="77">
Con&s;cience: They &s;hut all the Ports of
their Sen&s;es, that &s;he may not enter into
their Minds, where &s;he is receiv'd with
&s;o much indifference, that &s;he is forgot
as &s;oon as &s;he is receiv'd.</P>
<P>Eloquence therefore would have but
little authority over our Hearts, and
would indeed find &s;trong re&s;i&s;tance,
did &s;he not attack them with other
Arms be&s;ides Truth. The Pa&s;&s;ions are
the Springs of the Soul: It is they
which cau&s;e it to act: It is either Love,
or Hatred, or Fear, or Hope, which
coun&s;els and determins us. We pur&s;ue
what we love, we avoid what we hate.
He that holds the Spring of a Machin,
is not &s;o much Ma&s;ter of all the Effects
of the Machin, as he is of a Per&s;on,
who&s;e Inclination he knows, and is
able to in&s;pire with Hatred, or Love,
according as either is nece&s;&s;ary to make
him advance, or to remove him from an
Object.</P>
<P>But the Pa&s;&s;ions are excited by the
pre&s;ence of their Object: Pre&s;ent Good
affects us with Love, and with Joy;
When we do not actually, but are in
po&s;&s;ibility of po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing that Good, it
<PB N="140" REF="78">
inflames the Soul with de&s;ires, who&s;e
Flames are continued by Hope.</P>
<P>Pre&s;ent Evil is the Cau&s;e of Hatred
or Sadne&s;s: The Soul is tormented with
Fears and with Terrors, which turn
to De&s;pair, when we find we have no
means left to avoid them: To kindle
therefore the&s;e Pa&s;&s;ions in the Heart
of a Man, we mu&s;t pre&s;ent the Objects
before him; and to this purpo&s;e, Fi|gures
do marvellou&s;ly conduce.</P>
<P>We have &s;een how Figures do im|print
&s;trongly; how they illu&s;trate, and
how they explain: We mu&s;t u&s;e them
in the &s;ame manner to di&s;cover the Ob|ject
of the Pa&s;&s;ion which we have a
mind to in&s;pire, and to make a lively
Picture that expre&s;&s;es all the Features
and Lineaments of the &s;aid Object. If
we declame again&s;t a Malefactor, who
de&s;erves the hatred of the Judges, we
are not to be &s;paring of words, nor
affraid of <HI>Repetitions, Synonyma,</HI> that
&s;trongly imprint upon the Mind the
Image of his Crimes. An <HI>Antithe&s;is</HI>
will be convenient, and make them
conceive the enormity of his Life, by
oppo&s;ing the Innocence of tho&s;e Per|&s;ons
<PB N="141" REF="78">
whom he has wrong'd: We may
compare him to the Malefactors of for|mer
Ages, and declare his Cruelty to
be greater than the Cruelty of the Ti|gres
and Lions. It is in the De&s;cription
of Cruelty, and other ill qualities, that
Eloquence triumphs: It is particularly
the <HI>Hypotypo&s;es,</HI> or lively De&s;criptions,
which produce the Effect expected from
our Di&s;cour&s;e, and rai&s;e in the Mind
Floods of Pa&s;&s;ion, of which we make
u&s;e, to incline the Judges as we have
a mind to lead them. Frequent Excla|mations
do te&s;tifie our horrour at
the repre&s;entation of his abominable
Crimes; and makes the Standers-by
feel the &s;ame Sentiments of grief and
aver&s;ion. By <HI>Apo&s;trophes</HI> and <HI>Pro&s;opo|peia's</HI>
we order it &s;o, that Nature her
&s;elf &s;eems to demand with us the Con|demnation
of the Criminal.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="142" REF="79">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Reflexions upon the good u&s;e of Fi|gures.</HEAD>
<P>FIgures, as we have &s;een, being the
Characters of our Pa&s;&s;ions, when
tho&s;e Pa&s;&s;ions are irregular, Figures
&s;erve only to de&s;cribe tho&s;e Irregulari|ties.
They are In&s;truments u&s;ed to
&s;hake and agitate the Minds of tho&s;e to
whom we &s;peak: If the&s;e In&s;truments
be managed by an unju&s;t Pa&s;&s;ion, Fi|gures
in that Man's Mouth, are like a
Sword in the Hand of a Mad Man. It
is not lawful by fal&s;e accu&s;ation to
blacken every Man again&s;t whom we
&s;peak; nor to &s;how our Eloquence, is
it nece&s;&s;ary to imploy again&s;t him, the
&s;ame Figures we would u&s;e to di&s;po&s;e
a Judge to the Condemnation of a
wicked and abominable per&s;on. Ora|tors
with whom this fault is familiar,
do &s;eldom deceive twice; their Excla|mations
are quickly under&s;tood, and it
<PB N="143" REF="79">
happens to them, as to tho&s;e who have
u&s;ed to counterfeit them&s;elves &s;ick;
when they are &s;ick indeed, no body
believes them:</P>
<Q>Quaere Peregrinum, vicinia Rauca reclamat.</Q>
<P>This fault in &s;ome per&s;ons is a &s;ign
of cunning, in others 'tis a &s;ign of le|vity
and extravagance. When we de|light
in combating the Truth; when
we de&s;ire not to &s;atisfie our Hearers, but
chu&s;e rather to trouble their Minds with
the Clouds of &s;ome unju&s;t Pa&s;&s;ion, that
may intercept the &s;ight of the Truth;
the Figures imploy'd in that Ca&s;e may
be call'd <HI>Figures of Craft.</HI> But Orators
are not always to be accus'd of this
cunning; &s;ometimes they do not con|&s;ider
the impre&s;&s;ions which their Fi|gures
may make; their de&s;ign not be|ing
&s;o much to per&s;wade, as to &s;how
their Eloquence; and to do that, they
will put them&s;elves into a heat, and
make u&s;e of the &s;tronge&s;t Figures in
Rhetorick, when perhaps they have no
Enemy to combat: Like a Mad Man,
who draws his Sword upon a Phan|ta&s;m
<PB N="144" REF="80">
that his own troubled Imagina|tion
has repre&s;ented in the Air. The&s;e
are Orators that fall many times into
Raptures and Enthu&s;ia&s;ms, which take
away the u&s;e of their Rea&s;on, and make
them &s;ee things in a quite contrary
manner to what in reality they are.</P>
<Q>Et &s;olem geminum, &amp; duplices &s;e o&s;tendere
Thebas.</Q>
<P>This Fault is the Character of an In|fant,
that is angry without a cau&s;e;
yet many Learned and Eminent Writers
are guilty of it, as believing they could
not pa&s;s for Eloquent without the&s;e
kind of Figures. For this rea&s;on, they
will talk lowd upon all occa&s;ions, de|prave
their own Judgments, and look
upon every thing quite otherwi&s;e than
it is; whereas they &s;hould rather
reflect &s;oberly upon whatever is repre|&s;ented,
and &s;peak only by Sentences.
But that which is mo&s;t ridiculous is,
That the&s;e ill Orators endeavour only
to plea&s;e and tickle their Auditory, not
concerning them&s;elves in the lea&s;t to
overcome or convince their Adver&s;ary
<PB N="145" REF="80">
by the force of their words. Like a
di&s;tracted per&s;on, never regarding how
he &s;truck, or defended him&s;elf with
advantage again&s;t his Enemy, &s;o he
drew the Eyes of the Spectators upon
him, and got the reputation of fight|ing
hand&s;omly, and with a good grace.</P>
<Q><L>Fur es ait Pedio: Pedius, quid? Crimina
ra&s;is</L>
<L>Librat in Antithetis, doctas po&s;ui&s;&s;e Figuras</L>
<L>Laudatur&mdash;</L></Q>
<P>They affect to mea&s;ure their words,
and to give them a ju&s;t Cadence that
may flatter the Ear: They proportion
all their Expre&s;&s;ions, and in a word,
they fill up their Di&s;cour&s;es with Fi|gures,
but &s;uch Figures as, in re&s;pect
of &s;trong and per&s;wa&s;ive Figures, are
like the Po&s;tures in a Dance, in re&s;pect
of the Po&s;tures of a Combat.</P>
<P>The Study and Art that appear in a
compt and polite Di&s;cour&s;e, are not
the Character of a Mind lively touch'd
with the things of which he &s;peaks;
but rather of a Man unconcern'd, and
merry. So we call the&s;e Figures of
<PB N="146" REF="81">
Mea&s;ure, who&s;e Cadence is agreeable
to the Ear, <HI>Theatrical Figures, Theatrales
Figurae.</HI> They are Arms only for &s;how,
not of a temper to fight with. Fi|gures
proper to per&s;wade are not to be
&s;ought for: It is the heat wherewith
we are animated for the defence of the
Truth that produces them, and con|tinues
them in our Di&s;cour&s;e; &s;o that
indeed Eloquence is nothing but the
Effect of our Zeal. St. <HI>Augu&s;tin</HI> tells
us the &s;ame, &s;peaking of the Eloquence
of the Stile of St. <HI>Paul: Quid &s;ic indig|natur
Apo&s;tolus in Epi&s;tolis &s;uis, &s;ic cor|ripit,
&s;ic exprobrat, &s;ic increpat, &s;ic mi|natur?
Quid e&s;t quod animi &s;ui affectum
tam crebra &amp; tam a&s;pera vocis mutatione
te&s;tetur? Nullus dixerit, more Sophi&s;ta|rum
pueriliter &amp; con&s;ulto figura&s;&s;e Oratio|nem
&s;uam; tamen multis figuris di&s;tincta
e&s;t. Quapropter &s;icut Apo&s;tolum praecepta
Eloquentiae non &s;ecutum e&s;&s;e dicemus; ita,
quod ejus &s;apientiam &s;ecuta &s;it Eloquentia,
non denegamus.</HI></P>
<P>But it is not only upon great occa|&s;ions
that Figures are to be u&s;ed: The
Pa&s;&s;ions have &s;everal degrees: All pro|vocations
are not equally alike; nor
<PB N="147" REF="81">
have all Figures the &s;ame efficacy and
force. There are <HI>Antithe&s;es</HI> for great,
and other Figures for le&s;&s;er Commo|tions.
So that we ought not to con|demn
all &s;orts of Figures in Di&s;cour&s;e,
upon a matter that affords not ju&s;t and
rea&s;onable occa&s;ion of emotion. The
impatience Men have to expre&s;s them|&s;elves
well, and to make the things
they would in&s;inuate to be conceiv'd,
has its Figures as well as our other
Pa&s;&s;ions. In the milde&s;t and mo&s;t tem|perate
conver&s;ation, though no re&s;i|&s;tance
be found in the Mind of the per|&s;ons
with whom we di&s;cour&s;e, no|thing
hinders but that for the better
explication we may repeat &s;ometimes
the &s;ame Words, and make u&s;e of dif|ferent
Expre&s;&s;ions, to &s;ay the &s;ame
thing. It is permitted to make exact
De&s;criptions, to &s;earch for Compari|&s;ons
and Images of what we &s;ay, among
natural and &s;en&s;ible things. We may
demand the Judgment of our Auditors,
and interrogate them, to fix and retain
their Minds in more &s;erious attention,
and make our reflexions upon what they
have &s;aid. Thus has Conver&s;ation its
<PB N="148" REF="82">
Figures, as well as Speeches, and De|clamations.</P>
<P>The Stile of an Orator, who makes
ill u&s;e of his Figures, is term'd a cold
Stile, becau&s;e whatever effort he makes
to animate his Auditors, they hearken
but coldly, and that coldne&s;s is &s;o much
the greater, becau&s;e the Hearers are not
agitated by any of tho&s;e Emotions
which he de&s;ir'd to excite.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="3" TYPE="part">
<PB N="105" REF="82">
<HEAD>THE THIRD PART
OF THE
ART OF SPEAKING.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Sounds, and Letters, of which
Words are compos'd.</HEAD>
<P>THe Rules which we have hi|therto
given, in relation to
the <HI>Art of Speaking,</HI> regard
only the manner of expre&s;|&s;ing
our Thoughts, which are the Soul
<PB N="106" REF="83">
of Di&s;cour&s;e. Letters that compo&s;e
the Words, by their re&s;emblance, are
the Body of Di&s;cour&s;e, as we have &s;aid
before. We mu&s;t take pains now to
form this Body, that is to &s;ay, to range
the Words in &s;uch &s;ort, that the pro|nunciation
of them may be ea&s;ie and
agreeable at the &s;ame time. To treat
of this matter with entire exactne&s;s,
we ought &s;eriou&s;ly to con&s;ider the par|ticular
Movements of the Organs of
the Voice, to determin the formation
of every Sound that is made by every
Letter. But, be&s;ides that this exact|ne&s;s
would be trouble&s;ome, every Man
may apprehend the&s;e things without
the a&s;&s;i&s;tance of a Ma&s;ter, by ob&s;erving
with little attention what is performed
by the Organs of which we make u&s;e
when we &s;peak. I &s;hall therefore ex|plain
my &s;elf upon the&s;e things only in
a general manner.</P>
<P>We know already how the Voice
is form'd. The Air which comes forth
of the Lungs, excites a Sound pa&s;&s;ing
with con&s;traint through the <HI>Larynx,</HI> or
the opening of the Pipe of the <HI>A&s;pera
<PB N="107" REF="83">
Arteria,</HI> which reaches to the Throat.
This opening is greater or le&s;&s;er by
means of Mu&s;cles that inviron it, ac|cording
as there is occa&s;ion for the
rai&s;ing 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
di&s;po&s;itions of the place which receives
it, and by the Motion of the Tongue
which beats it again&s;t &s;everal parts of
the Mouth. Every Sound has been
mark'd by a Letter: Letters compo&s;e
Words; in &s;uch &s;ort, that it is po&s;&s;ible
to make an Engin &s;peak, if having
ob&s;erv'd the particular di&s;po&s;ition of the
Organs of the Voice (which is nece&s;|&s;ary
for the formation of each Letter)
we &s;hould make as many Pipes as there
are Letters, and give them the &s;ame
di&s;po&s;itions. It is po&s;&s;ible likewi&s;e to
make a dumb Man &s;peak, by repre&s;en|ting
to his Eyes the di&s;po&s;itions and
po&s;tures which the Organs of the Voice
do a&s;&s;ume for the &s;ounding of each Let|ter,
of which at the &s;ame time they
are to &s;how them a Character, and
<PB N="108" REF="84">
reiterate the pronunciation, 'till he ob|&s;erves
the Motions of the Tongue, the
Opening of the Mouth, how the Sound
is cut by the Teeth, how the Lips beat
one again&s;t the other, and imitate them.
Commonly people are dumb only becau&s;e
they cannot hear, and therefore they
cannot learn to pronounce the Sound
of a Letter otherwi&s;e than by this arti|fice,
which teaches them that by the
Eye, of which they are not capable
by the Ear. Mon&s;ieur <HI>de Monconys</HI>
reports, that in his Travels in <HI>England,</HI>
there was an Excellent Mathematician
at <HI>Oxford,</HI> who made a dumb Man read
in his pre&s;ence; and that that dumb
Man was the &s;econd which he had
taught to &s;peak 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.</P>
<P>The Letters are di&s;tingui&s;h'd into
Vowels and Con&s;onants: Some have
ob&s;erv'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.
<PB N="109" REF="84">
The Vowels are five, <HI>A, E, I, O, U.</HI>
In pronouncing them, we mu&s;t &s;top
&s;ome time to make them &s;ound, other|wi&s;e
they will not be ea&s;ily under&s;tood;
according to the mea&s;ure or quantity
of time, they are &s;aid to be long or
&s;hort, or too long or too &s;hort, and
receive different Names. It depends
upon him that &s;peaks to &s;top a longer
or &s;horter time upon the Vowels, and
&s;o to make what difference betwixt
them he plea&s;es, and therefore it is,
that their Number is not the &s;ame in
all Languages. The <HI>Hebrews</HI> have thir|teen
Vowels; the <HI>Greeks</HI> &s;even; the
<HI>French</HI> pronounce their Vowels in equal
time, &s;o that they are not &s;ubject to
that difference which the different mea|&s;ures
of time may produce among o|thers;
but they di&s;tingui&s;h them ano|ther
way. When the Mouth is open'd
more than ordinarily, the Sound is
&s;tronger, and more clear; when the
Mouth is not open'd &s;o much, the Sound
is weaker, and le&s;s clear. The&s;e diffe|rent
degrees of force, cau&s;e the diffe|rence
betwixt an <HI>E</HI> Ma&s;culine and an <HI>E</HI>
<PB N="110" REF="85">
Feminine; betwixt an <HI>I</HI> and an <HI>U.</HI>
When we joyn the Sounds of two
Vowels, and a third Sound is produc'd,
that is it which we call a <HI>Dipthong,</HI>
which is as much as a Letter with two
Sounds.</P>
<P>Con&s;onants cannot be pronounced,
but by &s;ounding a Vowel, and from
thence they are called Con&s;onants.
The&s;e Letters are formed by the Mo|tion
of the Tongue beating the Voice
again&s;t the Throat, and from thence
again&s;t the Palat. As the Tongue
contracting it &s;elf, &s;tops the Air that
forms the Voice; or as it relaxes and
and &s;uffers it to pa&s;s, &s;triking upon
the Teeth; and the Lips beating one
upon another, it gives the Sounds of
different Con&s;onants. From whence,
among the <HI>Hebrew</HI> Grammarians, their
Con&s;onants are di&s;tingui&s;h'd into Con|&s;onants
of the Lips, of the Teeth, of
the Throat, and of the Palat. The
&s;imple Con&s;onants are twelve, <HI>B, C,
D, F, G, L, M, N, P, R, S, T;</HI> to which
we might add <HI>J</HI> and <HI>V,</HI> when pronoun|ced
as Con&s;onants.</P>
<P><PB N="111" REF="85">
That which makes in the Alphabets
of &s;ome Languages a greater Number
of Con&s;onants, is fir&s;t, becau&s;e People
joyn the Sound of &s;everal Con&s;onants
in &s;uch manner, that though they be
nam'd double, yet only one of their
Sounds is heard: As in <HI>Z</HI> and <HI>X, Z</HI>
is as much as <HI>D</HI> and <HI>S, X</HI> is as much
as <HI>C</HI> and <HI>S.</HI> This Conjunction aug|ments
the Alphabets with a great
number of different Con&s;onants. All
Languages have not an equal number
of the&s;e double Letters, in which one
of the Con&s;onants being pronounc'd
faintly, cau&s;es the Sounds of them
both to be confounded, &s;o that but
one of them is heard. In the &s;econd
place, when we pronounce the Con|&s;onants
with A&s;piration, we change
their Sound, and that change forms
quite different Letters. A&s;piration is
made, when we &s;trike the Voice a|gain&s;t
our Throats with &s;ome kind of
force. This A&s;piration is mark'd with
an <HI>H.</HI> Among the <HI>Greeks,</HI> an A&s;pi|ration
added to their <GAP DESC="foreign"> makes their <GAP DESC="foreign">,
which is as much as <HI>Ph</HI> with us: An
<PB N="112" REF="86">
A&s;piration joyn'd with their K makes
their X, and is as much as our <HI>Ch.</HI>
This Ob&s;ervation makes us compre|hend,
why in &s;ome Languages one
Letter has &s;o many different kinds (if
I may &s;o call them) for example, the
<HI>Hebrews</HI> have four &s;orts of <HI>S:</HI> The
A&s;piration may be made with diffe|rent
degrees: Wherefore to mark by
particular Characters the differences of
the pronunciation, we mu&s;t imploy as
many different Characters.</P>
<P>When the Voice is carried up to
the No&s;e, it receives a certain diffe|rence:
So that if we &s;hould be to
treat of all Letters that might be ima|gin'd,
as there are Letters of the
Throat, there &s;hould be Letters of
the No&s;e. Cu&s;tom exerci&s;es its au|thority
over Letters, as well as over
the Body of Di&s;cour&s;e, of which Let|ters
are the Members. It depended
upon Men to chu&s;e among the Sounds
of the Voice (which might be infinite
in number) tho&s;e that &s;hould be mo&s;t
plea&s;ing and commodious; for which
Cau&s;e, there are Letters in u&s;e in
<PB N="113" REF="86">
&s;ome Languages, that are not u&s;ed in
others.</P>
<P>Some Nations there are, who ex|pre&s;s
by one &s;ingle Letter &s;everal
Sounds; others on the contrary mark
the &s;ame Sound by different Chara|cters,
and have &s;everal Letters that
might be &s;pared: Among the <HI>Latins</HI>
the <HI>K</HI> or the <HI>Q</HI> might be &s;par'd, as
is ob&s;erv'd by <HI>Marius Victorinus,</HI> who
has treated of that matter very pro|foundly.
This is it that has produced
&s;o much difference in the Alphabets
of Languages both ancient and mo|dern.
It is not nece&s;&s;ary I ob&s;erve,
that the Tones of the Voice, and the
divers inflexions wherewith the &s;ame
Letters may be pronounced, may
change their pronunciation; That
there are Letters of which the Sound
is not di&s;tinct, if we are not careful
to joyn them with &s;uch as have &s;ym|pathy
with them. I pa&s;s over &s;uch
things as are commonly regarded as
trifles; neverthele&s;s the knowledge of
them, though their Object be &s;mall,
is in &s;ome mea&s;ure nece&s;&s;ary: Order
<PB N="114" REF="87">
has oblig'd me to repeat what I have
&s;aid of them before.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What is to be avoided in the ranging
and di&s;po&s;ition of our Words.</HEAD>
<P>'TIs an Effect of the Wi&s;dom of
God, who created Man to be
happy, that whatever is u&s;eful to his
Conver&s;ation, is agreeable to him.
The plea&s;ure annex'd to all the actions
that can pre&s;erve his life, carries him
freely and &s;pontaneou&s;ly to them. We
find it no pain to eat, becau&s;e the
gu&s;t and reli&s;h of the Meat di&s;covers
the nece&s;&s;ity of eating to be agreeable:
And that which authori&s;eth this Ob|&s;ervation,
that God has joyn'd u&s;e|fulne&s;s
<PB N="115" REF="87">
and plea&s;ure together, is this,
becau&s;e all Victual that conduces to
nouri&s;hment is reli&s;hable, whereas o|ther
things that cannot be a&s;&s;imulated
and turn'd into our &s;ub&s;tance, are in|&s;ipid.</P>
<P>This &s;ea&s;oning of Nece&s;&s;ity with
Delight, is to be found in the U&s;e
of Speech. There is a &s;trange &s;ym|pathy
betwixt the Voice of tho&s;e
who &s;peak, and the Ears of tho&s;e who
hear: Words that are &s;poken with
pain, are offen&s;ive to the Hearer.
The Organs of the Ear are di&s;pos'd
in &s;uch &s;ort, that they are offended
by a pronunciation that grates upon
the Organs of the Voice. A Di&s;|cour&s;e
cannot be plea&s;ant to the Hea|rer,
that is not ea&s;ie to the Speaker;
nor can it be ea&s;ily pronounc'd, unle&s;s
it be heard with delight.</P>
<P>We feed with more appetite upon
whol&s;om and reli&s;hable Meats: We
li&s;ten more ea&s;ily to a Di&s;cour&s;e,
who&s;e &s;moothne&s;s le&s;&s;ens the trouble
of attending. It is with Sciences as
with Meats: We mu&s;t endeavour to
<PB N="116" REF="88">
make tho&s;e things plea&s;ant, that are
u&s;eful. <HI>Quoniam nonnullam inter &s;e ha|bent
&s;imilitudinem ve&s;centes atque di|&s;centes;
propter fa&s;tidia plurimorum, etiam
ip&s;a, &s;ine quibus vivi non pote&s;t, alimenta
condienda &s;unt.</HI></P>
<P>Plea&s;ure goes far with every Man,
'tis that which is the Principal of all
our Motions, and &s;ets them on work.
Prudence requires that we make u&s;e
of this inclination to conduct us to
our de&s;ign'd end; that we delight the
Ears, which being the Porters of the
Mind, may give our words the more
favourable admi&s;&s;ion. Be&s;ides, the
plea&s;ure which we give in Speaking,
is preceded by our own proper ad|vantage;
becau&s;e the ea&s;e of the Spea|ker,
cau&s;es the &s;atisfaction of the
Hearer. Let us then endeavour fir&s;t
to di&s;cover what is to be avoided in
the ranging of our Words; what
faults may be committed in it; what
makes their pronunciation difficult.
The fir&s;t &s;tep to Wi&s;dom, is to di&s;claim
Vice: <HI>Sapientia prima, &s;tultiti&acirc; carui&s;&s;e:</HI>
Be&s;ides, in what relates to the Sen&s;e,
<PB N="117" REF="88">
every thing is agreeable that is not
offen&s;ive. <HI>Id omne delectat, quod non
offendit,</HI> &s;ays St. <HI>Augu&s;t.</HI></P>
<P>Among the Letters, &s;ome are pro|nounced
with ea&s;e, others with pain:
Tho&s;e who&s;e pronunciation is ea&s;y,
have an agreeable &s;ound; tho&s;e which
are pronounced with difficulty, do
grate upon the ear. Con&s;onants are
pronounc'd with more difficulty than
Vowels, and therefore their &s;ound is
le&s;s &s;oft and fluent. It is convenient
to temper the har&s;hne&s;s of the one by
the &s;weetne&s;s of the other, and that
is to be done by placing the Vowels
betwixt the Con&s;onants, that there
may not be too many of them toge|ther.
This har&s;hne&s;s ari&s;ing from the
concour&s;e of Con&s;onants is obvious
in the Northern Languages. Dutch
and Engli&s;h are very unplea&s;ant to
them who&s;e ears have not been ac|cu&s;tomed
to tho&s;e Languages.</P>
<P>Cu&s;tome takes off this har&s;hne&s;s
from words, or at lea&s;t makes us not
&s;o &s;en&s;ible of it: Neverthele&s;s it
is ob&s;erv'd, that according to the dif|ferent
degrees of the peoples inclina|tion
<PB N="118" REF="89">
to delicacy, their words are com|pos'd
of Letters more or le&s;s &s;oft;
they having had le&s;s regard to follow
rea&s;on, than to tickle their ears. In
re&s;pect of this &s;oftne&s;s of pronun|ciation
the Romans u&s;ed <HI>aufero</HI> for
<HI>abfero, colloco</HI> for <HI>cumloco,</HI> as analogy
oblig'd them to &s;peak. Analogy has
remitted of its rights in favour to the
&s;oftne&s;s of pronunciation; <HI>Impetra|tum
e&s;t a Con&s;uetudine ut &s;uavitatis
cau&s;a peccare liceret.</HI></P>
<P>When Con&s;onants have their a&s;pi|rations,
or are pronounc'd in a quite
contrary manner, we are more parti|cularly
oblig'd to avoid their con|cour&s;e.
There are Con&s;onants pro|nounc'd
with the mouth &s;hut, as <HI>P.</HI>
There are others to be pronounc'd
with the mouth open, as <HI>C. &amp;c.</HI> The&s;e
Con&s;onants cannot march together;
they do not agree, and therefore can|not
be pronounc'd one after the other
immediately, without &s;ome kind of
difficulty; becau&s;e we are forced (al|mo&s;t
at the &s;ame time) to di&s;po&s;e the
Organs of pronunciation in &s;everal
different fa&s;hions.</P>
<P><PB N="119" REF="89">
A &s;econd error into which they fall
who range their di&s;cour&s;e with negli|gence,
is the concour&s;e of two or more
Vowels. This concour&s;e of Vowels
is unplea&s;ing for a rea&s;on quite con|trary
to what has been given for the
har&s;hne&s;s of the concour&s;e of Con&s;o|nants.
Con&s;onants are pronounc'd
with pain, Vowels with ea&s;e; but this
great facility accompanied with great
&s;wiftne&s;s, is the cau&s;e that their &s;ounds
are not &s;o di&s;tingui&s;hable, but that for
the mo&s;t part one of them is lo&s;t; by
which means there is a kind of <HI>vacu|um</HI>
in the pronunciation, that ren|ders
it unplea&s;ing. In pronouncing
many Vowels &s;ucce&s;&s;ively, it happens
with us as if we were walking upon
poli&s;h'd Marble, the too great &s;mooth|ne&s;s
is trouble&s;ome; it cau&s;es us to
&s;lip, and 'tis hard for us to keep upon
our legs. In pronouncing the&s;e two
words in French <HI>Hardi Ecuyer;</HI> or in
Latin the&s;e, <HI>ni inter&s;i&s;tat &amp; laboret
animus,</HI> unle&s;s we &s;top for &s;ome time
at the words <HI>Hardi,</HI> or <HI>ni,</HI> the &s;ound
of the fir&s;t Vowels will be confounded
with that which begins the following
<PB N="120" REF="90">
words, and create an unea&s;ine&s;s to the
ear, as not being able to di&s;tingui&s;h
clearly the two different &s;ounds.</P>
<P>To prevent this concour&s;e, we either
retrench one of the Vowels that are
found together, or we put in a Con|&s;onant
to fill up that void &s;pace which
would happen without this artifice;
for this rea&s;on they &s;ay in French, <HI>qu'il
fit,</HI> for <HI>que il fit; a-t-il fait,</HI> for <HI>a il
fait; fera-t-il,</HI> for <HI>fera il.</HI> When one
of the Vowels has a &s;ound &s;trong e|nough
to make it &s;elf di&s;tingui&s;h'd,
this artifice is u&s;ele&s;s. This care of
ranking of words ought to be with|out
di&s;quiet: We are not to con&s;ider
as material faults, the failings in this
part of the Art of Speaking. <HI>Non id
ut crimen ingens expave&s;cendum est,
ac ne&s;cio an negligentia in hoc, an &s;o|licitudo
&s;it pejor.</HI></P>
<P>I know not whether neglect or &s;o|licitude
is to be mo&s;t carefully avoid|ed:
but negligence has this advan|tage,
that it makes it believ'd we em|ploy
our &s;elves more about things
than words, <HI>Indicium e&s;t hominis de
re, magis quam de verbis laborantis.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="121" REF="90">
<HEAD>VII.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">In &s;peaking, the voice does many times
repo&s;e: We may commit three faults
in ill-placing the repo&s;e of the voice.</HEAD>
<P>THE nece&s;&s;ity of taking breath,
obliges to interrupt the cour&s;e
or our pronunciation, and the de&s;ire
of explaining our &s;elves di&s;tinctly, is
the cau&s;e that we choo&s;e for the re|po&s;e
of our voice the end of every
&s;entence, to di&s;tingui&s;h by the&s;e inter|vals
the different things of which we
&s;peak. Two faults may be commit|ted
by ill-di&s;tribution of the&s;e inter|vals.
If the expre&s;&s;ions of each Sen|tence
be too &s;hort, and by con&s;equence
the pronunciation often interrupted,
this interruption le&s;&s;ening the force of
the voice, and cau&s;ing it to fall, the
mind of the Reader (that ought to be
kept in breath) relaxes, and his inten|&s;ion
abates. There is nothing that
more cools the heat of an action, than
<PB N="122" REF="91">
to di&s;continue it with too many inter|ruptions.
Labour makes the mind vi|gorous,
and attentive; Idlene&s;s makes
it drow&s;y and &s;tupid. <HI>Fit attentior ex
difficultate,</HI> S. <HI>Aug.</HI></P>
<P>When our thoughts are delivered
too &s;hort, and the mind of the Reader
is obliged to attend &s;ometime to con|ceive
them, this retardment keeps him
in breath, and rendring him more at|tentive,
gives him a better conception
of the &s;en&s;e of our di&s;cour&s;e. We have
&s;aid in the fir&s;t Book, that for this
rea&s;on the Romans rejected at the end
of the &s;entence &s;ome word upon which
the under&s;tanding of the former de|pended:
But without this tran&s;po&s;i|tion,
and &s;ubver&s;ion of the natural or|der,
it &s;uffices to hinder that our pro|nunciation
be not often interrupted,
to make choice of &s;uch copious ex|pre&s;&s;ions
as may comprehend a com|petent
number of words; or el&s;e it is
nece&s;&s;ary that the things expre&s;&s;ed be
&s;o link'd together, that the fir&s;t may
excite the de&s;ire of under&s;tanding the
latter, and that the voice repo&s;e after
every &s;en&s;e in &s;uch manner, that we
<PB N="123" REF="91">
may perceive it has &s;till farther to go.</P>
<P>When a thought is expre&s;&s;ed by
too great number of words, we fall
into another extream, commonly we
continue the actions we have begun;
&s;o the voice not repo&s;ing till it comes
to the end of the &s;en&s;e of which it
has begun to pronounce the expre&s;&s;ion,
if the &s;en&s;e comprehends many things,
the long &s;ucce&s;&s;ion of words to which
it is link'd, heats the lungs, and &s;pends
the &s;pirits; the pronunciation is in|commodious
and unplea&s;ant both to
&s;peaker and hearer.</P>
<P>One of the greate&s;t difficulties in
Rhetorick is to keep a Mean, and a|void
the&s;e two Extreams. Tho&s;e who
&s;peak without art, and have but a
weak <HI>genius,</HI> fall commonly into the
fir&s;t errot; they can hardly &s;peak four
words that will hang together; every
&s;entence ends as &s;oon as it begins. We
hear nothing but <HI>for, to conclude, after
that, &s;aid he,</HI> and other &s;uch expre&s;|&s;ions
brought in only to patch up the
incoherence of the words. There is
no fault in Di&s;cour&s;e &s;o contemptible
and in&s;upportable as this. Tho&s;e who
<PB N="124" REF="92">
would exceed, run into another ex|treme.
The fir&s;t proceed as if they
were lame, the other by leaps. For
fear of deba&s;ing their &s;tyle, they exalt
it too high: They make u&s;e of no|thing
but Bomba&s;t, <HI>Se&s;quipedalia ver|ba;</HI>
and phra&s;es long enough to take
away a mans breath.</P>
<P>'Tis ea&s;y to abridg, or lengthen a
Sentence: We may link two or more
conceits together, make them but one,
and &s;o continue the Di&s;cour&s;e by a long
<HI>&s;eries</HI> of words that make but one
&s;en&s;e. There is no need of repairing
to hollow and empty phra&s;es, or to
blow up our di&s;cour&s;e with vain
words. On the contrary, if a &s;entence
contains too many things that require
great numbers of words, 'tis ea&s;y to
contract the &s;en&s;e of that &s;entence, to
&s;eparate the &s;aid things, and to &s;ignify
them by &s;elect expre&s;&s;ions, which may
be by con&s;equence more &s;hort and
conci&s;e than that which expre&s;&s;ed the
whole body of the &s;entence.</P>
<P>We may likewi&s;e commit a third
fault again&s;t the ju&s;t di&s;tribution of
the repo&s;e of the voice. In beginning
<PB N="125" REF="92">
a &s;entence, when we lift up our voice
in&s;en&s;ibly, the Greeks call it <GAP DESC="foreign"> and
at the end of a &s;entence when we de|pre&s;s
it, it is called <GAP DESC="foreign"> The ear
judges of the length of a phra&s;e 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 un|ea&s;y
as well to the &s;peaker as hearer.
It is hard to &s;top in the mid&s;t of a ca|reer:
When in the dark we are got to
the highe&s;t &s;tep of a pair of &s;tairs
without perceiving it, and we believe
we may go &s;till higher, the fir&s;t &s;tep
we make afterwards di&s;compo&s;es us,
and we are in as much di&s;order as if
the board &s;lip'd from under our feet:
All the expletive particles in French,
as <HI>pas point, &amp;c.</HI> have been found out
to &s;upply the place of words which
the ear expected. The Greeks have
great number of the&s;e particles, which
have no other u&s;e but to lengthen a
Di&s;cour&s;e, and keep it from falling too
&s;uddenly: If the ear be offended
with the length of a Di&s;cour&s;e, all the
words unexpected are importunate.
<PB N="126" REF="93">
<HI>Aures</HI> (&s;ays <HI>Cicero) quid plenum, quid
inane &s;it judicant, &amp; nos admonent
complere verbis quae propo&s;uerimus, ut
nihil di&s;iderent, nihil amplius expe|ctent.
Cum vox ad &s;ententiam expro|mendam
attollitur, remi&s;&s;a donec con|cludatur
arrectae &s;unt, quo perfecto,
completo&abque; ambitu, gaudent; Et curta
&s;entiunt, nec amant redundantia. Id|circo
ne mutilae &s;int, &amp; qua&s;i decurtatae
&s;ententiae, hoc e&s;t, non ante tempus ca|dant
cavendum, ne qua&s;i promi&s;&s;is au|res
fraudentur, aut productionibus,
aut immoderatius excurrentibus lae|dantur.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="127" REF="93">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The too frequent repetition of the &s;ame
Sounds, the &s;ame Letters, and the
&s;ame words, is irk&s;ome. The way of
rendring the Pronunciation of a
Di&s;cour&s;e equal.</HEAD>
<P>AMong the Defects in ranging our
Words, we reckon the too
frequent repetition of the &s;ame Let|ter,
the &s;ame termination, the &s;ame
&s;ound, and the &s;ame cadence. Diver&s;ity
is plea&s;ant; but the be&s;t things are
trouble&s;om when common. This Fault
is the more con&s;iderable, becau&s;e it is
ea&s;ily 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 expre&s;s the &s;ame things a
hundred &s;everal ways; Cu&s;tom &s;up|plying
different expre&s;&s;ions for the
&s;ame thought.</P>
<P>The mo&s;t of the faults of which
I have &s;poken, we avoid to render our
<PB N="128" REF="94">
Di&s;cour&s;e equal and &s;mooth. 'Tis un|ea&s;ie
to walk in an uneven way; an
unequal Di&s;cour&s;e cannot be carried
on without trouble: Pronunciation
is incommodious and importunate,
when without any proportion we
&s;ometimes advance, &s;ometimes depre&s;s
our voice, and pa&s;s from one extre|mity
to another. The words, the &s;yl|lables,
which enter into the compo&s;iti|on
of a Di&s;cour&s;e, have different &s;ounds;
the &s;ound of &s;ome is clear, the &s;ound
of others is ob&s;cure: One fills the
mouth, another is pronounced with
a feeble tone. All do not require the
&s;ame di&s;po&s;ition of the organs of the
voice, and that inequality cau&s;es the
different pronnciations. To &s;upport a
Di&s;cour&s;e, and render it equal, we mu&s;t
help the cadence of a weak word, with
another that carries a &s;tronger pronun|ciation;
and on the contrary, tempering
the force of one word by the gentlenes
of another, order it &s;o, that the pre|cedent
words di&s;po&s;e the voice to the
pronunciation of the &s;ub&s;equent, that
the voice may fall by degrees.</P>
<P>I might add other Precepts, but
<PB N="129" REF="94">
what I have &s;aid is &s;ufficient for their
Reflexion who would write accurately
upon tho&s;e things which are nece&s;&s;a|ry
to be con&s;idered in the ranging of
words. The principal, and almo&s;t the
only, profit to be drawn from the&s;e
Precepts, is that they make us regard
&s;everal things, which perhaps would
not otherwi&s;e occur to our thoughts.
And farther to per&s;wade you of the
u&s;efulne&s;s of the&s;e Precepts about the
di&s;po&s;ition of Words, ob&s;erve I pray,
that the <HI>Anomala,</HI> or irregularities
crept into &s;everal Languages, are ad|mitted
to avoid tho&s;e Faults which
we have decried. This is the rea&s;on
of tho&s;e multitude of pricks which
&s;upply the place of Vowels in the He|brew
Language. This is the rea&s;on
of the different long and &s;hort Points
which are chang'd according to the
different Inflexions of the Verbs, and
the di&s;po&s;ition of Notes &s;ignified by
the Elevations, Depre&s;&s;ions, and Re|po&s;es
of the Voice. This is the rea|&s;on
of that word <HI>Sceva,</HI> which &s;ome|times
is, and &s;ometimes is not pro|nounced.
It is only to equal the pro|nunciation,
<PB N="130" REF="95">
to &s;trengthen it by long
Points where there is occa&s;ion, and to
le&s;&s;en it by their brevity, when the
equality of the pronunciation requires
it.</P>
<P>The nicety of the <HI>Greeks</HI> is well
known. I will not lo&s;e time to let
you &s;ee how to avoid the unplea&s;ing
concour&s;e of two Con&s;onants with
A&s;pirations, they change the fir&s;t into
a <HI>tenuem</HI> that an&s;wers to it, &s;aying for
example <GAP DESC="foreign"> for <GAP DESC="foreign">: How to
fill up the void &s;pace which happens
&s;ometimes betwixt two Vowels, of
two words they make but one, for
example <GAP DESC="foreign">, they pronounce
<GAP DESC="foreign">; or in&s;ert a Con&s;onant, as
<GAP DESC="foreign"> for <GAP DESC="foreign">. How
they u&s;e not this Artifice when one
of the Vowels is long, and has a &s;ound
&s;trong enough to di&s;tingui&s;h it,
as <GAP DESC="foreign">. You know already
that to fortify the pronunciation,
when the word following begins with
an A&s;piration, it changes the <HI>tenuem</HI>
into an <HI>a&s;perum</HI> at the end of the
fir&s;t word, as <GAP DESC="foreign"> for <GAP DESC="foreign">
having a rough Spirit, requires a &s;trong
<PB N="131" REF="95">
pronunciation, which would be hard
to do, after you have pronounc'd the
<HI>tenues K &amp; T.</HI> who&s;e Sounds are but
weak. The <HI>Grammarians</HI> ob&s;erve that
the <HI>Greeks</HI> &s;ay <GAP DESC="foreign"> in the Preter|ten&s;e
of the <HI>Medium,</HI> for <GAP DESC="foreign"> to
avoid the triple repetition of the
&s;ame Con&s;onant <GAP DESC="foreign">.</P>
<P>Every man can makie the &s;ame Re|flexions
upon the Latin, and generally
upon all Languages that he knows.
The great number of words in every
Language, that are diver&s;ify'd in their
terminations, and the number of their
Syllables; the abundance of Expre&s;|&s;ions
(&s;ome of which are &s;hort, and
&s;ome long) were invented only to
make their Sentences equal, and give
them means to choo&s;e in that varie|ty,
the mo&s;t commodious words and
phra&s;es, and rejecting &s;uch as could
not be hand&s;omly joyn'd, <HI>in compo&s;iti|ne
rixantes,</HI> &s;upply their places with
tho&s;e that are more convenient.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="132" REF="96">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Words are Sounds. Conditions nece&s;&s;a|ry
to make Sounds agreeable. The
fir&s;t Condition. A Violent Sound is
di&s;agreeable: A moderate Sound
plea&s;es.</HEAD>
<P>WE have &s;een in the Fore-going
Chapter what is to be avoi|ded
in the ranging of Words&punc; that
they may not offend the Ear. Let us
in this &s;ee what we are to do to make
the Sounds made by the&s;e words a|greeable
and plea&s;ing: All things that
are moderate are plea&s;ing; tho&s;e
Meats which move the Nerves of the
Tongue &s;oftly, affect the Soul with the
plea&s;ure of Sweetne&s;s: Tho&s;e Meats
which prick the Nerves, or act upon
them with violence, are &s;harp, <HI>piquant,</HI>
or bitter. The heat of Fire cau&s;es
pain; the rigour of Cold is in&s;uppor|table;
a moderate Heat is u&s;eful for
<PB N="133" REF="96">
Health, and fre&s;h Ayre is agreeable
God has decreed (to render the pri|&s;on
of his Body agreeable to the Soul
of Man, and make him love it) that
whatever happens to the Body, and
di&s;turbs not its good di&s;po&s;ition,
&s;hould give him content. It is plea&s;ing
to &s;ee, to feel, to touch, to ta&s;te, <HI>&amp;c.</HI>
There is not a &s;en&s;e that we can want
without trouble. The &s;en&s;e of a &s;ound
mu&s;t then be plea&s;ing to the Ear, when
it &s;trikes it with moderation. Soft
Sounds &s;trike with moderation upon
the Organs of Hearing. Tho&s;e Sounds
which offend them are irk&s;ome and
di&s;agreeable.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Second Condition; A Sound ought
to be di&s;tinct, and by Con&s;equence
strong enough to be heard.</HEAD>
<P>BUt a Sound ought likewi&s;e to be
&s;trong enough to be heard: Meats
that are in&s;ipid, do rather &s;poil the
Appetite, than provoke it: We are
<PB N="134" REF="97">
forc'd to &s;ea&s;on and make them reli|&s;hable
with Vinegar and Salt. It is
with matters belonging to Sen&s;ation, as
with matters belonging to knowledg
that depend not upon the Body. An
imperfect knowledg of a thing does
but trouble and perplex the curio&s;ity;
and makes us but under&s;tand that we
are ignorant. We re&s;ent with &s;ome
pain what we perceive but ob&s;curely.
In a Sun-&s;hiny day the pro&s;pect of a
Field is plea&s;ant; whatever we di&s;cern
clearly, whether by the &s;ence or the
mind, is plea&s;ant; and thus you have
had two nece&s;&s;ary conditions to make
Sounds grateful. The fir&s;t, that they
be not &s;o violent to di&s;turb the Ear;
The Second, that they be clear, and di|&s;tinctly
to be heard.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Equality of Sounds contributes
to the rendring them di&s;tinct, which
is a Third Condition.</HEAD>
<P>IT is not always the want of Force
that renders the Sen&s;e confus'd,
but &s;ometimes inequality. Unequal
<PB N="135" REF="97">
Sounds that &s;trike the Organs &s;trong|ly
or weakly, &s;wiftly or flowly with|out
proportion, trouble the mind, as
diver&s;ity of Affairs trouble a man who
cannot apply him&s;elf to all of them at
once. The &s;ight of a multitude of
different Objects di&s;pos'd without or|der,
is confus'd. In a Cabinet well-furni&s;h'd
with Jewels, adorned with
Pictures, Sculptures, Cutts, Meddals,
Shells, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> the &s;ight of all the&s;e Curi|o&s;ities
is not agreeable, if they be not
di&s;pos'd with Order. Why is it that
Trees planted in order are more de|lightful
than tho&s;e that are ranged
without Art, as Nature has di&s;pos'd
them? Why is it that an Army drawn
up in Battalia, is plea&s;ing and formi|dable
at the &s;ame time? Many Rea|&s;ons
may be given, but in my opi|nion
it is the equality and order that
renders our &s;en&s;ation more di&s;tinct.
The clearne&s;s wherewith the mind
perceives the things between which
there is an equality and order, gives
it &s;atisfaction, and a full enjoyment of
what it de&s;ires. If there be no order
betwixt the impre&s;&s;ion of Sounds, they
<PB N="136" REF="98">
can never be di&s;tingui&s;h'd by the
Ear. In an a&s;&s;embly of &s;everal per&s;ons
where all &s;peak at a time, &s;carce one
word is to be under&s;tood. In a regular
Con&s;ort, though compos'd of &s;everal
In&s;truments and Voices, we under|der&s;tand
without confu&s;ion or pain
the &s;ound of every In&s;trument, and
the Notes of every Voice; and this
di&s;tinction makes them plea&s;ing to the
Ear.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Fourth Condition. Diver&s;ity is
as nece&s;&s;ary as Equality, to make
Sounds agreeable.</HEAD>
<P><HI>CIcero</HI> &s;ays very well, the Ear is
hard to be pleas'd, <HI>Fa&s;tidio&s;i&s;&s;imae
&s;un<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter"> aures.</HI> We many times di&s;plea&s;e,
when we de&s;ign to plea&s;e them. E|quality
is nece&s;&s;ary, and without it
our &s;en&s;e is not di&s;tinct; we perceive
things but confu&s;edly, and with trou|ble
when we enjoy things imperfectly
that we love and de&s;ire: and yet this
<PB N="137" REF="98">
equality grows tedious and in&s;uppor|table
when continued too long. The
Ear is incon&s;tant as the re&s;t of the
Sen&s;es. <HI>Omnis voluptas habet finiti|mum
fa&s;tidium.</HI> The greate&s;t plea|&s;ures
are attended with di&s;gu&s;t. Tho&s;e
who under&s;tand the Art of Plea&s;ing,
prevent the&s;e Di&s;gu&s;ts, and cau&s;e a
&s;ucce&s;&s;ive &s;en&s;ation of different plea|&s;ures,
overcoming by variety the dif|ficult
humour of men who are di|&s;turb'd
at all the&s;e things. 'Tis not
only Fancy, and <HI>Caprichio,</HI> that makes
variety nece&s;&s;ary; Nature it &s;elf re|quires
it. A Sound tires the Ear by
&s;triking upon it too long. In all acti|ons
diver&s;ity is nece&s;&s;ary, becau&s;e the
pain being divided, each part of the
Organ is the le&s;s oppre&s;s'd.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<PB N="138" REF="99">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Fifth Condition is to unite and link
together the former Conditions.</HEAD>
<P>IN appearance the two la&s;t Condi|tions
are incompatible, and de|&s;tructive
the one to the other; But
they agree very well, and equality
and variety may con&s;i&s;t without any
confu&s;ion. There is in nothing more
variety, than in a Garden of Flowers,
there are Tulips, and Violets, and
Ro&s;es, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> The Borders or Compart|ments
are different, &s;ome round,
&s;ome oval, &s;ome &s;quare, &s;ome triangu|lar.
Yet if this Plot be con&s;ider'd by
a skilful man, the equality agrees well
enough with the variety, being divi|ded
into Beds proportion'd one to
the other, and adorn'd with regular
Figures.</P>
<P>We will &s;how now how equality and
variety may con&s;i&s;t in Sounds. It is
this con&s;i&s;tency that makes the Con|&s;ort
in Mu&s;ick; for, as Saint <HI>Augu&s;tine</HI>
<PB N="139" REF="99">
&s;ays well, the Ear cannot receive a
greater contentment than what it
feels when it is charm'd by diver&s;ity
of Sounds, and yet is not depriv'd of
the plea&s;ure that equality gives it.
<HI>Quid enim auribus jucundius potest
e&s;&s;e, quam cum &amp; veritate mulcen<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">ur,
nec aequalitate fraudantur?</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="6" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>VI.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Sixt Condition that this agree|ment
of Equality and Diver&s;i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">y be
&s;en&s;ible, and what is to be ob&s;erv'd
to make it &s;o.</HEAD>
<P>THis agreement of equality and
variety ought to be &s;en&s;ible, &s;o
as the temperament may be per|ceivable
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 con&s;iderable interrupti|on.
The Symmetry of a Building can|not
be ob&s;erv'd when we &s;ee but one
part of it. For this rea&s;on a skilful Ar|chitect
<PB N="140" REF="100">
orders things &s;o, that as far as
is po&s;&s;ible his Hou&s;e may be con&s;i|der'd
at a &s;ingle view. That the Ear
may di&s;cern the order and proportion
of &s;everal Sounds, it is nece&s;&s;ary that
they be compar'd: In all compari&s;ons
'tis &s;uppos'd the terms of the Compa|ri&s;on
are pre&s;ent, and joyn'd one with
the other, and it is this union that
makes the Beauty and Plea&s;ure of
Harmony. <HI>Plus delectant omnia qu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="2 letters">
&s;ingula, &s;i po&s;&s;int &s;entiri omnia.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="7" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>VII.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What the Ear di&s;tingui&s;hes in the
Sound of Words, and what it may
perceive with delight.</HEAD>
<P>THe&s;e Conditions are nece&s;&s;ary to
all Sounds to make them agreea|ble,
whether it be to the &s;ounds of the
Voice, or of In&s;truments; yet I have
de&s;ign'd to &s;peak only of the Sounds
of Humane Voices, which I di&s;tingui&s;h
into two &s;orts, Forc'd, and Natural.
<PB N="141" REF="100">
The forc'd Voice is u&s;ed in Singing,
when the Air that makes the &s;ound is
forc'd with violence from the Lungs.
The Natural Voice is that which we
u&s;e when we &s;peak, it is form'd with
ea&s;e, and wearies not the Organs like
the other. What I &s;hall &s;ay hereafter
in this Treati&s;e, relates only to the
Natural Voice. Let us &s;ee now how
we may make the Sounds or Words
have &s;uch conditions as may render
them agreeable to the Ear.</P>
<P>We may without much difficulty
range our Di&s;cour&s;e in &s;uch manner,
that the pronunciation be neither too
violent nor &s;aint; that it be moderate
and di&s;tinct, and that our Di&s;cour&s;e by
con&s;equence have the two fir&s;t condi|tions.
The fir&s;t Chapter has been
&s;pent intirely in in&s;tructing what is to
be done, and what to be avoided, that
our Di&s;cour&s;e may not grate upon the
ear, but be heard di&s;tinctly. We have
&s;hown how carefully we are to avoid
the concurrence of two ruff Con&s;o|nents;
How we are to fill up the void
&s;paces betwixt words where the cour&s;e
of the pronuntiation would be &s;top'd&punc;
<PB N="142" REF="101">
With what prudence we are to cor|rect
the rufne&s;s of &s;ome Syllables
with the &s;oftne&s;s of others; in a
word, how we may equal the pro|nunciation,
and &s;u&s;tain the &s;ound of
weak Letters, by a&s;&s;ociating them with
&s;tronger.</P>
<P>The Four other Conditions may be
found in different manners in Di&s;|cour&s;e.
The Ear perceives &s;everal
things in pronunciation, be&s;id<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">s the
&s;ound of the Letters. Fir&s;t, it judges of
the mea&s;ure of time in which each
Letter, each Syllable, each Word, each
expre&s;&s;ion, is pronounc'd. Next, it
judges of the Elevations and Depre&s;&s;i|ons
of the Voice, by which in &s;pea|king,
each word, each expre&s;&s;ion, is di|&s;tingui&s;hed.
In the third place the
Ear ob&s;erves the &s;ilence or repo&s;e of
the Voice at the end of Words or Sen|tences,
when we joyn or &s;eparate
words: when we cut off a Vowel, and
&s;everal other things compriz'd under
the name of Accents, the knowledg
of which is ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary for
pronunciation. The&s;e accents may be
very numerous: There are more than
<PB N="143" REF="101">
thirty of them in the Hebrew Gram|mers.
If you will believe <HI>Servius Ho|noratus</HI>
there are eight among the
Latins. The <HI>Sharp</HI> figured thus (&spcacute;)
which &s;hows when the Voice is to be
rai&s;ed. The <HI>Grave</HI> (&spcgrave;) when it is to be
depre&s;s'd. The <HI>Circumflex</HI> compos'd
of the <HI>Sharp</HI> and the <HI>Grave</HI> as thus
(<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter"> or <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">) the <HI>Long</HI> de&s;crib'd thus (-)
which &s;hows that the Voice is to &s;top
upon the Vowel that has that mark:
The <HI>Short</HI> which &s;hows that the time
of pronunciation ought to be &s;hort (&spcbreve;)
the <HI>Hyphen</HI> or <HI>Conjunction</HI> that im|plys
two words are to be joyn'd as
<HI>Male-&s;anus.</HI> The <HI>Dia&s;tole</HI> or <HI>Divi&s;ion,</HI>
(,) which &s;hows they are to be &s;epa|rated;
the <HI>Apo&s;trophe</HI> (') which
&s;hows there is a Vowel to be rejected.
The <HI>Dia&s;tole</HI> and the <HI>Apo&s;trophe</HI> have
the &s;ame mark, with this difference,
that in the <HI>Apo&s;trophe</HI> it is plac'd at
the top of the Letter, ad <HI>Caput literae;</HI>
in the <HI>Dia&s;tole</HI> in the bottom, <HI>ad pe|dem.</HI></P>
<P>But we may order it &s;o that the
Ear may receive all the&s;e with delight,
by ob&s;erving the four conditions pro|mis'd,
<PB N="144" REF="102">
di&s;po&s;ing (for example) our
words with &s;uch Artifice, that the
Mea&s;ures of the time of our pronun|ciation
be equal; that the pau&s;es of
the Voice or intervals of Re&s;piration
be &s;uitable; that the Voice be rais'd
or deba&s;ed with equal degrees. We
may joyn Equality with Variety, by
making &s;everal of tho&s;e conjoyn'd
mea&s;ures to be equal, though the parts
of which they are compos'd be une|qual,
and by ordering things &s;o that
the Ear may receive this temperament
with plea&s;ure: but this requires lon|ger
Explication.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Art to render Pronunciation a|greeable
is to be u&s;ed with Pru|dence.</HEAD>
<P>BEfore we demon&s;trate the Utility
of the Ob&s;ervations made in the
<PB N="145" REF="102">
former Chapter, now whil&s;t we &s;peak
of the Art of Plea&s;ing, and are whol|ly
imploy'd to find out in Di&s;cour&s;e
what is plea&s;ing to the Ear; it is con|venient
to reflect upon this Maxim,
that the mo&s;t agreeable things are
di&s;agreeable in &s;everal ca&s;es. Diver|ti&s;ement
is not at at all times &s;ea&s;ona|ble;
working and playing are not to
be u&s;ed together; we never &s;tep in
mea&s;ure, when we follow our affairs.
When we are &s;imply to di&s;cover our
thoughts, when we are only to make
the people &s;en&s;ible what we have in
our minds: a man of judgment will
not alwayes trouble him&s;elf to con&s;ider
exactly, and mea&s;ure his words, nor
take the pains to place preci&s;ely the
pau&s;es of his Pronunciation. Plea&s;ure
is not plea&s;ure but where it is de&s;ir'd;
if it comes un&s;ea&s;onably, it di&s;plea&s;es,
becau&s;e it diverts our Application
from what it was &s;eriou&s;ly fixt up|on.</P>
<P><PB N="146" REF="103">
Di&s;cour&s;e then is to be di&s;tingui&s;h'd
into two Kinds, Natural and Artifici|al.
Natural Di&s;cour&s;e is that which is
us'd in Conver&s;ation to expre&s;s our
&s;elves, to in&s;truct and &s;ignifie the mo|tions
of our Will, and the thoughts of
our Mind. Artificial Di&s;cour&s;e is u&s;ed
to plea&s;e, and with all po&s;&s;ible art (be|yond
the Natural and Familiar way)
to charm and allure our Auditors. In
Natural Di&s;cour&s;e, it is &s;ufficient if we
ob&s;erve exactly what has been pre|&s;crib'd
in the fir&s;t Chapter of this
Book, not but that Art may be call'd
in &s;ometimes to our a&s;&s;i&s;tance: Mat|ters
of natural Di&s;cour&s;e are not al|ways
&s;o au&s;tere, but they may admit
of &s;ome little Diverti&s;ement.</P>
<P>No man is ignorant of the diffe|rence
betwixt Ver&s;e and Pro&s;e; it is
&s;ufficiently manife&s;t, the Di&s;cour&s;e
that is tyed up to the &s;trict Rules&punc; of
Ver&s;ification, is far from a free Di&s;|cour&s;e,
as that is which we u&s;e when
we talk naturally and without art.
For this rea&s;on Di&s;cour&s;es in Ver&s;e are
call'd particularly artificial. We are
<PB N="147" REF="103">
oblig'd to begin this Art of which we
are treating, by &s;howing how we may
give to free and natural Di&s;cour&s;e,
(that is to &s;ay to Pro&s;e) the conditions
that render Sounds agreeable, without
intrenching upon its liberty. After
which, in order we &s;hall come to ar|tificial
Di&s;cour&s;e, as <HI>Ver&s;e, &amp;c.</HI> This
Art in Pro&s;e is reducible to two
things, either to render our Pro&s;e Pe|riodical,
or Figurative. Let us &s;ee now
what is a <HI>Period,</HI> and what a <HI>Figure;</HI>
how we may render a Di&s;cour&s;e Peri|odical,
and how Figurative.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">How we are to di&s;tribute the Inter|vals
of Re&s;piration, that the repo&s;e
of the Voice may be proportiona|ble.</HEAD>
<P>WE are oblig'd to take breath
from time to time; the ne|ce&s;&s;ity
<PB N="148" REF="104">
of being under&s;tood, makes us
&s;top commonly at the end of every
expre&s;&s;ion to re&s;pire, that the repo&s;e
of the Voice may &s;erve to render our
Di&s;cour&s;e more clear, and give us
power to re-a&s;&s;ume new force for the
continuation of our Speech. The Voice
does not repo&s;e equally at the end of
every &s;en&s;e; in a Sentence where
there is much compri&s;ed, we repo&s;e a
little at the end of every <HI>Comma;</HI> yet
this repo&s;e hinders not from percei|ving,
that we would &s;peak farther.
That part of a perfect &s;en&s;e, which
makes part of a greater &s;entence, is
call'd in <HI>Greek</HI> <GAP DESC="foreign">, in <HI>Latin, In|ci&s;um.</HI>
When we hear this part of an
entire &s;en&s;e, the Ear is not &s;atisfi'd,
becau&s;e the pronunciation remains &s;u|&s;pended
till the Sentence be fini&s;hed.
For example, when we begin&punc; <HI>Cum Re|gium
&s;it bene facere, &amp; audire male,
&s;eeing it is a Royal quality to do right
where we receive wrong.</HI> The Ear is
attentive, and diligent to under&s;tand
what follows. The <HI>Greeks</HI> call a per|fect
<PB N="149" REF="104">
&s;en&s;e that makes but a part of a
more compleat Sentence, <GAP DESC="foreign">, the
Latins <HI>Membrum,</HI> a Member. The Ear
is pleas'd with the part of a Sentence,
but yet hankers after &s;omething that
may render it compleat. <HI>Si quantum
in agris, loci&s;&abque; de&s;ertis audacia pote&s;t,
tantum in foro at&abque; judiciis impuden|tia
valeat: If impudence could do as
much at the Bar in Courts of Ju&s;tice,
as Courage could do in the field.</HI> You
may find by your Ear that there is
&s;ence in what is &s;ayd, and the Ear is in
&s;ome mea&s;ure &s;atisfy'd; but yet there
remains a de&s;ire of &s;omething to
make it more compleat, and there is
&s;omething wanting to the Body of the
Sentence, though the Members are &s;uf|ficiently
intelligible.</P>
<P>The Voice cannot repo&s;e but by
depre&s;&s;ing; nor begin again but by e|levating
it &s;elf; for which rea&s;on in
each Member there are two parts.
Elevation and Depre&s;&s;ion of the Voice.
<GAP DESC="foreign">, and <GAP DESC="foreign">. The Voice re|po&s;es
not ab&s;olutely, but at the end
<PB N="134" REF="105">
of a Sentence: not deba&s;es it &s;elf, but
by fini&s;hing the pronunciation of a
Sentence. When the Members which
compo&s;e the body of a Sentence are
equal; and the Voice in pronouncing
them repo&s;es by equal Intervals; ad|vances
and falls again with proporti|on;
the expre&s;&s;ion of that Sentence is
call'd a <HI>Period.</HI> 'Tis a word which is
borrow'd from the <HI>Greeks,</HI> and &s;igni|fy's
in Latin <HI>Circuitus. Periods</HI> com|prehend
(like a Circumference) all the
Sences which are Members of the Bo|dy
of a Sentence. The Art of compo|&s;ing
<HI>Periods</HI> con&s;i&s;ts (as is manife&s;t)
in equalling and proportioning the
expre&s;&s;ions of each Member of a Sen|tence.
Let us &s;ee now how that is to
be done.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Compo&s;ition of Periods.</HEAD>
<P>TO compo&s;e a Period, or (which is
the &s;ame thing) to expre&s;s a
<PB N="135" REF="105">
Sentence that is compos'd of two or
more &s;everal Sences, with &s;uch art,
that the expre&s;&s;ions in the &s;aid Sen|tence
may have the Conditions nece&s;|&s;ary
to plea&s;e the Ear; we mu&s;t fir&s;t
provide that the expre&s;&s;ions be not too
long, and that the whole Period be
proportion'd to the breath of him
who is to pronounce it. We mu&s;t
have an eye to all contain'd in the &s;en|tence
that we would comprize in one
Period: We may make choice of Ex|pre&s;&s;ions
clo&s;e, or extended; and re|trench,
or add, as we find convenient,
to give it a ju&s;t length: But we mu&s;t
have a care not to in&s;ert Periods that
are u&s;ele&s;s and weak to fill up Vacan|cy's,
and compleat the Cadence of the
Period. <HI>Inania Complementa, &amp; ramen|ta
numerorum.</HI></P>
<P>2. The expre&s;&s;ions of particular &s;en|ces,
that are Members of the Body of
a Sentence, ought to be equal, that the
Voice may repo&s;e at the end of the&s;e
Members by equal Intervals. The
more this Equality is exact, the more
it is plea&s;ant; as we may &s;ee in this
<PB N="152" REF="106">
example. <HI>Haec e&s;t enim non facta, &s;ed
nata lex; quam non didicimus, accepi|mus,
legimus, verum ex Natura ip&s;a
arripuimus, hau&s;imus, expre&s;&s;imus: ad
quam non docti, &s;ed facti; non in&s;tituti,
&s;ed imbuti &s;umus.</HI></P>
<P>3. A Period ought to con&s;i&s;t at lea&s;t
of two Members, and at mo&s;t but of
Four: A Period is to have at lea&s;t two
Members, becau&s;e its Beauty proceeds
from the equality of the Members, and
equality &s;uppo&s;es at lea&s;t two termes.
The Ma&s;ters of this Art would not
have four Members crowded into one
period, becau&s;e being too long, the
pronunciation mu&s;t be forc'd, which
mu&s;t by con&s;equence be di&s;plea&s;ing to
the Ear, becau&s;e a Di&s;cour&s;e that is
incommodious to the Speaker can ne|ver
be agreeable to the hearer.</P>
<P>4. The Members of a Period ought
to be joynd clo&s;e, that the ear may per|ceive
the equality of the Intervals of
Re&s;piration: For this cau&s;e the Mem|bers
of a Period ought to be united
by the union of a &s;ingle Sentence, of
the body of which they are Members.
<PB N="153" REF="106">
This union is very di&s;cernable, for
the Voice repo&s;es at the end of every
Member, only the better to continue
its cour&s;e: It &s;tops not quite, but at
the end of the whole Sentence. A Pe|riod,
like a Circle, incompa&s;&s;es and
inclo&s;es the whole &s;ence of a Sentence,
and cau&s;es the ear with ea&s;e to per|ceive
the di&s;tinction or union of its
Members.</P>
<P>5. The Voice is elevated or de|pre&s;s'd
in each Member: The two
parts where the inflexions are made,
ought to be equal, that the degrees of
Elevation and Depre&s;&s;ion may corre|&s;pond.
In pronouncing an entire Pe|riod,
we rai&s;e our Voice to the middle
of the Sentence, and let it fall gradu|ally
afterward. The two parts call'd
<GAP DESC="foreign">, and <GAP DESC="foreign">, mu&s;t corre&s;pond
by their Equality.</P>
<P>6. Variety may be in a Period two
wayes: In the &s;en&s;e, and in the words.
The &s;en&s;e of each Member of the Pe|riod
ought to differ among them|&s;elves:
In Di&s;cour&s;e variety falls in of
it &s;elf. We cannot expre&s;s the diffe|rent
thoughts of our mind, but by
<PB N="138" REF="107">
different words of different &s;ignifica|tions.
But a Period may be compos'd
of two Members, of three Members,
and &s;ometimes of four Members. E|qual
Periods are not to follow one a|nother
too near; it is be&s;t when Di&s;|cour&s;e
flows with mo&s;t liberty: The
exact and preci&s;e equality of the In|tervals
for Re&s;piration, may become
trouble&s;ome.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Examples of &s;ome Latin Periods:
Periods are Pronounc'd with Ea&s;e.</HEAD>
<P><HI>THe Cadence of the</HI> French <HI>Lan|guage
being not &s;o intelligible, I
&s;hall pre&s;ent &s;ome pa&s;&s;ages in</HI> Cicero
<HI>that I have cho&s;en for examples of the
Latin Periods. An example of a Period
of two Members.</HI> 1. Antequam de
Republica, (Patres con&s;cripti) di<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">am
ea quae dicenda &s;unt hoc tempore. 2. Ex|ponam
breviter Con&s;ilium &amp; profecti|onis
&amp; rever&s;ionis. <HI>The following Pe|riod
has three members.</HI> 1. Nam cum
antea, per aetatem, hujus auctoritatem
<PB N="139" REF="107">
loci contingere non auderem; 2. Sta|tuerem&abque;
nihil huc ni&s;i perfectum in|dustria,
elaboratum ingenio offerri
oportere. 3. Meum tempus omne
amicorum temporibus tran&s;mittendum
putavi. <HI>This la&s;t con&s;i&s;ts of Four
Members.</HI> 1. Si quantum in agro, lo|ci&s;&abque;
de&s;ertis audacia pote&s;t. 2. Tantum
in foro, ac in Judiciis impudentia
valeret. 3. Non minus in cau&s;a cederet
Aulus Coecinna, Sexti Aebu&s;ii imp<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">|dentiae.
4. Quantum in vi facienda
ce&s;&s;it audaciae.</P>
<P>Sometimes we conclude the end of
each member of a Period with termi|nations
almo&s;t alike, which produces
an equality in the Cadences of Mem|bers,
and makes the Period more har|monious;
as may be ob&s;erv'd in &s;e|veral
examples, where all the Periods
are not equally &s;tudyed.</P>
<P>The care that we take to place pro|perly
the repo&s;e of the voice in the Pe|riods,
makes us pronounce them
without pain; and it has been ob|&s;erv'd,
that things of ea&s;ie&s;t pronunci|ation
are mo&s;t grateful to the Ear.
<HI>Id auribus no&s;tris gratum e&s;t inven|tum,
<PB N="156" REF="108">
quod hominum lateribus non &s;o|lum
tolerabile, &s;ed etiam facile e&s;&s;e po|te&s;t.</HI>
This rea&s;on obliges an Orator
to &s;peak Periodically. Periods main|tain
Di&s;cour&s;e, and are pronounc'd
with certain Maje&s;ty that gives weight
to the words. But it is to be con&s;ider'd
that this maje&s;ty is un&s;ea&s;onable when
it follows the motions of Pa&s;&s;ion,
who&s;e precipitation &s;uffers not any
regular way of ranging, and compo|&s;ing
our words. A Di&s;cour&s;e equally
periodical cannot be pronounc'd but
coldly, Pa&s;&s;ion admits not of Rules;
Periods (as I &s;ay'd before) are not
good, but when we would &s;peak with
Authority, or delight the Ear. We
cannot run and walk in Cadence at
the &s;ame time.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<PB N="157" REF="108">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Figurative ranging of Words, and
in what the&s;e Figures con&s;i&s;t.</HEAD>
<P>WE have &s;ayd at large in the Se|cond
Book, that Figures in
Di&s;cour&s;e are the characters of the a|gitations
of the mind; that words do
follow upon the&s;e agitations; and that
when we &s;peak naturally, the pa&s;&s;ion
that cau&s;es us to &s;peak, de&s;cribes it &s;elf
in our words. The Figures of which
we are &s;peaking are different, they are
traced at lei&s;ure by a mind that is
quiet. The fir&s;t are made by &s;ally's;
they are violent, they are &s;trong, pro|per
to conte&s;t and vanqui&s;h a mind
that oppo&s;es the truth: Tho&s;e of
which we are &s;peaking are without
that force, and unfit for any thing but
Diver&s;ion. I &s;peak of tho&s;e that are
elaborate and &s;tudyed; for it may
happen that the condition of the&s;e la&s;t
Figures wherewith we adorn our Di&s;|cour&s;e
for Diverti&s;ement, may be found
by accident in tho&s;e Figures which we
prepare for Di&s;pute.</P>
<P><PB N="142" REF="109">
We have &s;hown in the fir&s;t Chapter,
that the repetition of the &s;ame word,
the &s;ame letter, or the &s;ame &s;ound, is
unplea&s;ant: But we have ob&s;erv'd
in the Second Chapter that when that
repetition is made with art, it is not
ungrateful to the ear. In &s;hort, the mo&s;t
di&s;agreeable &s;ounds are plea&s;ing when
deliver'd with fit Intervals. The noi&s;e
of a Hammer is unplea&s;ant, yet when
the Smith &s;trikes upon his Anvil with
proportion, it makes a kind of Con|&s;ort
that is plea&s;ing to the Ear. We
cannot repeat a &s;ound, a letter, or word,
but it makes our Di&s;cour&s;e figurative;
The Art of Figures con&s;i&s;ts in the re|petition
of a letter; of the &s;ame ter|mination;
of the &s;ame word, by pro|portionated
time, and equality of in|terval,
&s;ometime in the beginning,
&s;ometime in the end, and &s;ometime in
the middle of a Sentence; as may be
&s;een in the examples of the&s;e figures,
which I have drawn for the mo&s;t part
out of very good Poets.</P>
<P>Figures may be infinite, becau&s;e the
repetition that makes them may be
made infinite ways, and all of them
<PB N="143" REF="109">
different. We may repeat the &s;ame
word &s;imply without altering the &s;ig|nification,
as <HI>My God, my God, why
ha&s;t thou for&s;aken me?</HI> Or we may
change the &s;ignification of the word,
<Q><L>&V;n Pere e&s;t toujours Pere, &amp; mal+gre
&s;on courroux,</L>
<L>Quand il nous veut frapper, l'amour
retient &s;es coups.</L>
<L>A Father's still a Father, when his
rage</L>
<L>Prompts him to &s;trike, his Love does
it a&s;&s;wage.</L></Q></P>
<P>The Second word Father is taken
for the motions of tenderne&s;s which
Fathers feel for their Children.</P>
<P>Sometimes the &s;ame expre&s;&s;ion is
repeated in the beginning of every
member of a Di&s;cour&s;e.</P>
<Q><L>Il n'est crimes abominables,</L>
<L>Il n'e&s;t brutales actions,</L>
<L>Il n'est infames pa&s;&s;ions</L>
<L>Dont les mortels ne &s;oient coupa|bles,
&amp;c.</L>
<L><PB N="160" REF="110">
There are no abominable Crimes,</L>
<L>There are no bruti&s;h actions,</L>
<L>There are no infamous pa&s;&s;ions</L>
<L>Of which man is not guilty.</L></Q>
<P>Sometimes the &s;ame word is placed
at the beginning, and end of a Sen|tence.</P>
<Q><L>Vengez-vous dans le temps, de mes
fautes pa&s;&s;ees,</L>
<L>Mais dans l'Eternite ne vous en
vengez pas.</L>
<L>Revenge in time my frailties and my
faults;</L>
<L>But in Eternity revenge them not.</L></Q>
<P>Sometimes the &s;ame word is plac'd
at the end of one Member, and the be|ginning
of the next; &s;ometimes at
the beginning of a Member, and the
end of the next. Sometimes the &s;ame
words are repeated in the middle of
the Members of a Sentence. Sometimes
they are repeated in all the Members;
&s;omtimes in the &s;ame member the &s;ame
<PB N="161" REF="110">
words are u&s;ed at the beginning, and
then inverting the Order, placed in
the end.</P>
<P>There is a &s;ort of Repetition which
is made by giving a le&s;&s;er tran&s;po&s;iti|on
of the repeated word.</P>
<P>There is another way wherein all
the&s;e repetitions are made at the &s;ame
time; as in this example taken out of
<HI>Pro&s;per.</HI></P>
<Q><L>No man do's Grace prevent; each good
de&s;ire</L>
<L>Is kindled in him by that &s;acred fire.</L>
<L>So 'tis the way that leads us in the
way;</L>
<L>Without it's own light none beholds
the day.</L>
<L>Who without God would go to God is
blind,</L>
<L>And &s;eeking Life, is certain death to
find.</L></Q>
<P>Rhetoricians give to the&s;e &s;everal
Figures, (which are but &s;everal &s;orts
of Repetition to particular Names,)
with which it is not nece&s;&s;ary to op|pre&s;s
the memory of the Reader.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="6" TYPE="section">
<PB N="146" REF="111">
<HEAD>VI.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Reflections upon the&s;e Figures.</HEAD>
<P>I Never de&s;ign'd to comprehend all
&s;orts of the&s;e Figures that may be
po&s;&s;ibly invented, I have thought it
&s;ufficient to give &s;ome examples of
them. Expre&s;&s;ions figured in this man|ner
may be valued for the &s;en&s;e which
they contain; but 'tis evident that
the&s;e Figures of them&s;elves are wor|thy
but of moderate e&s;teem. The art
of making them is very obvious, and
indeed too gro&s;s: Our Language is
natural, and loves them not, and the
be&s;t of our Authors avoid them with
more care than others affect them.
They will &s;carce entertain them when
they fall in of them&s;elves, and &s;eem to
come by chance. Meaner Wits are
fond of the&s;e Figures, this feeble arti|fice
being commen&s;urate to their
&s;trength, and conformable to their
Genius. <HI>Puerilibus ingeniis hoc gra|tius,
quod propius est.</HI> Yet I am not
&s;o critical as to condemn all the&s;e Fi|gures;
the examples I have in&s;erted
would ri&s;e in judgment again&s;t me;
<PB N="147" REF="111">
Let us try then what we can &s;ay
in their favour.</P>
<P>We compare all the&s;e Figures to
the Knots and Figures of a Garden:
As they are plea&s;ing to the eye by
their variety, and order with which
they are ingeniou&s;ly di&s;pos'd; &s;o the
&s;ounds and words of a Di&s;cour&s;e be|ing
figured as we have directed, are
as agreeable to the ear. Rea&s;on per|mits
tho&s;e Figures when they are not
too much affected, and fall in as it
were by accident. They may like|wi&s;e
be compar'd to the Figures upon
the works of Nature, where &s;he &s;eems
to &s;port and delight her &s;elf in diver|&s;ifying.
A Traveller tires him&s;elf
&s;ometimes in the contemplation of a
&s;hell, or a Flower. A melancholly
Reader is reviv'd by this Figurative
di&s;po&s;ition of words; the Figures re|new
his attention, and tho&s;e little
Artifices do not di&s;plea&s;e him. Some of
the&s;e Figures I have ob&s;erv'd in Holy
Writ, and particularly in <HI>I&s;aiah,</HI> the
mo&s;t eloquent of all the Prophets.
The Fathers u&s;ed them, either in com|plai&s;ance
to that Age which delighted
<PB N="164" REF="112">
in them, or becau&s;e a Sentence is ea|&s;ier
retain'd that runs with a Cadence.
But continually to affect them is a ve|ry
great fault. I know not how it
comes about that men have &s;o much
e&s;teem for &s;ome Authors that are full
of tho&s;e Affectations: I cannot think
it a &s;ign of great Wit to &s;pend whole
dayes in ranking their words with an
incon&s;iderable exactne&s;s. A Di&s;cour&s;e
with this Artifice does not affect, nor
make impre&s;&s;ion upon a &s;erious per|&s;on;
it takes only with tho&s;e who de|light
in &s;porting with words, and be|longs
only to &s;uch Authors as are
empty of matter; rich only in trifles,
and under&s;tand nothing but how to
&s;urprize the Common people with
harmonious noi&s;e: <HI>Canoris Nugis.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the mea&s;ure of Time in Pro|nunciation.</HEAD>
<P>THe <HI>Voice</HI> does nece&s;&s;arily &s;top
&s;ome time upon every Syllable,
<PB N="165" REF="112">
to make it di&s;tinct and intelligible.
Our pre&s;ent Di&s;qui&s;ition is about the
Mea&s;ure of Time in matter of Pronun|ciation;
how to proportion it, and
give it the conditions requi&s;ite to &s;uch
things as the Ear perceives in pronun|ciation.
The manner of Pronouncing
is not the &s;ame in all Countrys. The
pronunciation of the pre&s;ent Langua|ges
in <HI>Europe,</HI> is different from the pro|nunciation
of the antient Languages as
<HI>Latin, Greek,</HI> and <HI>Hebrew.</HI> In the
pre&s;ent Languages we &s;top equally up|on
all Syllables, and the time in pro|nouncing
all the <HI>Vowels</HI> is the &s;ame.
In antient Languages the Vowels are
di&s;tingui&s;h'd by difference of time.
Some are call'd long, becau&s;e pro|nounced
in longer time; others are
call'd &s;hort becau&s;e their pronuncia|tion
is quicker.</P>
<P>We ought not to imagine that we
pronounce at this day the <HI>Greek</HI> and
the <HI>Latin,</HI> as the <HI>Greeks</HI> and <HI>Romans</HI>
did of old. In their Di&s;cour&s;e they
di&s;tingui&s;h'd the quantity of every
<HI>Vowel.</HI> We, when we pronounce a
Latin word, ob&s;erve only the time of
<PB N="166" REF="113">
the la&s;t <HI>Vowel</HI> but one. Though the
la&s;t <HI>Vowel</HI> be &s;hort, we pronounce it
as if it were long. Yet Saint <HI>Au&s;tin</HI>
tells us, that whoever in reading this
ver&s;e of <HI>Virgil,</HI>
<Q>Arma, virum&abque; cano, Trojae qui
primus aboris,</Q>
Should pronounce <HI>primis</HI> for <HI>primus,
is</HI> being long, and <HI>us</HI> &s;hort, he &s;hould
&s;poil the harmony of the <HI>Ver&s;e.</HI> Who&s;e
Ear among us is &s;o delicate as to per|ceive
this difference? <HI>Quis &s;e &s;entit
deformitate &s;oni offen&s;um?</HI> And yet
the ears of the <HI>Romans</HI> in Saint <HI>Au|gu&s;tin</HI>'s
time were offended with this
alteration.</P>
<P>We call <HI>Mea&s;ure</HI> a certain number
of Syllables di&s;tingui&s;h'd and under|&s;tood
by the ear, &s;eparatly from ano|ther
number of Syllables: The union
of two, or more Mea&s;ures makes a
<HI>Ver&s;e.</HI> The <HI>Latin</HI> word <HI>Ver&s;us</HI> &s;igni|fies
properly <HI>Ranged;</HI> and we give
that name to words, becau&s;e in wri|ting
they are di&s;tingui&s;hed from Pro&s;e,
<PB N="167" REF="113">
which is a continued Line. <HI>Pro&s;a O|ratio,
qua&s;i pror&s;a Oratio, Marius
Victorinns</HI> tells us, that <HI>Ver&s;us</HI> comes a
<HI>Ver&s;uris,</HI> that is <HI>a repetita Scriptura ea
ex parte in quam de&s;init.</HI> The <HI>Romans</HI>
antiently writ by Purrows, having be|gun
to write fir&s;t from the left to the
right hand, the &s;econd Line was writ
from the right to the left hand, as
Oxen plough the ground; for which
rea&s;on, as the &s;ame Author ob&s;erves,
that manner of writing was call'd <HI>Bu|&s;trophe,</HI>
a <HI>Boum ver&s;atione.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the making of Ver&s;e.</HEAD>
<P>EQual mea&s;ures of Time in Pro|nunciation,
cannot be agreeable
(as we have &s;aid before) unle&s;s they
be di&s;tingui&s;hable: For that, it is ne|ce&s;&s;ary
that the Ear di&s;tingui&s;hes the&s;e
Mea&s;ures, and at the &s;ame time that
they are heard &s;eparatly, that they be
joyned together, &s;o as the Ear com|paring
one with the other, may per|ceive
<PB N="168" REF="114">
their equality; which equality
pre&s;uppo&s;es at lea&s;t two Terms, and
&s;ome di&s;tinction betwixt the &s;ayd
Terms: For we do not &s;ay of two
great things, that they are equal un|le&s;s
both of them be pre&s;ent to our
mind. Be&s;ides, the equality of Mea|&s;ures
ought to be joyn'd with variety,
as we have evinc'd at large in the Se|cond
Chapter; from whence we col|lect
that the Artifice of the &s;tructure
of a Ver&s;e con&s;i&s;ts in the Ob&s;ervation
of the&s;e four things.</P>
<P>1. Each mea&s;ure ought to be heard
di&s;tinctly, and &s;eparatly from every o|ther
Mea&s;ure.</P>
<P>2. The&s;e Mea&s;ures are to be equal.</P>
<P>3. The&s;e Mea&s;ures ought not to be
the &s;ame; they mu&s;t have &s;ome diffe|rence
betwixt them, that their Vari|ety
and Equality may be united in the
Mea&s;ures.</P>
<P>4. This Alliance of Equality and
Variety cannot be di&s;tingui&s;hable in
the Mea&s;ures if they be not joyn'd
one with the other. It is nece&s;&s;ary
therefore that the ear hears them both
together; that it compares them; and
<PB N="169" REF="114">
that in the compari&s;on it perceives
the equality that they have in their
difference.</P>
<P>The pronunciation of Languages
being different, the &s;tructure of Ver&s;e
cannot be the &s;ame in all Languages:
All their difference neverthele&s;s is re|ducible
to two Heads; for the Latin
and Greek Poe&s;y do differ from the
<HI>French, Italian,</HI> and <HI>Spani&s;h</HI> Poe&s;y, on|ly
becau&s;e in the&s;e latter Languages
they pronounce all the Syllables e|qually,
as not having the di&s;tinction
of &s;hort and long Vowels. Wherefore
I &s;hall not be oblig'd to &s;peak parti|cularly
of the &s;tructure of Ver&s;e in
each Language: It will &s;uffice for my
de&s;ign to di&s;cover the Fundamental
Rules of the <HI>Latin</HI> and <HI>French</HI> Poe|try.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="170" REF="115">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">How the Romans di&s;tingui&s;h'd their
mea&s;ures. How many &s;orts of Mea|&s;ures
there are in the &s;tructure of a
Ver&s;e.</HEAD>
<P>EVery Mea&s;ure in the Latin Poe|try
is under&s;tood &s;eparatly and
di&s;tinctly by the elevation of the
Voice at the beginning, and the de|pre&s;&s;ion
or relaxation of it at the end.
The&s;e Mea&s;ures are call'd <HI>Feet,</HI> be|cau&s;e
the Ver&s;e &s;eem to march or &s;tep
in Cadence by means of their Mea|&s;ure.
So the <HI>Foot</HI> of a Latin ver&s;e, as
<HI>Victorinus</HI> ob&s;erves, is form'd by the
rai&s;ing or relaxation of the <HI>Voice. Al|terna
&s;yllabarum &s;ublatione &amp; po&s;itio|ne,
pedes nituntur &amp; formantur.</HI> The
<HI>Romans</HI> beat their mea&s;ure as they re|cited
their Ver&s;e: <HI>Plaudendo recita|babant,
Pedis pul&s;us ponebatur,
tollebatur&abque;</HI> from whence came
this phra&s;e, <HI>Percutere pedes ver&s;us,</HI> to
di&s;tingui&s;h the Feet or Mea&s;ures of a
<HI>Ver&s;e.</HI></P>
<P><PB N="171" REF="115">
To determine how many different
Mea&s;ures or Feet are u&s;ed in the La|tin
Poetry, we mu&s;t attentively ob|&s;erve
the&s;e following Rules which are
founded upon the nece&s;&s;ity of ren|dring
our Mea&s;ures clear and di|&s;tinct.</P>
<DIV4 N="1" TYPE="rule">
<HEAD>The Fir&s;t Rule.</HEAD>
<P>It is clear, and without di&s;pute, a
Foot ought to con&s;i&s;t of two Syllables
at lea&s;t; upon the fir&s;t of which Sylla|bles
the Voice is to be rais'd; upon
the Second it is to be depre&s;s'd to
make it more remarkable.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 N="2" TYPE="rule">
<HEAD>The Second Rule.</HEAD>
<P>The two Syllables of a Foot cannot
be both &s;hort, becau&s;e they would
pa&s;s too &s;wiftly, and the Ear would
not have time to di&s;tingui&s;h two diffe|rent
degrees in the Voice that pro|nounces
them, that is to &s;ay, an Eleva|tion
and Depre&s;&s;ion.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 N="3" TYPE="rule">
<HEAD>The Third Rule.</HEAD>
<P>Two &s;hort Feet in pronunciation, are
equivalent to one long. That is to &s;ay,
the time of pronunciation in a long
Vowel, is equal to the time of pro|nunciation
of two &s;hort Vowels.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 N="4" TYPE="rule">
<PB N="172" REF="116">
<HEAD>The Fourth Rule.</HEAD>
<P>A Foot cannot be compos'd of more
than two long Syllables, or two equi|valent
to two long Syllables; for tho&s;e
in the middle, betwixt the two ex|treams,
(upon which the Voice ri&s;es
and falls) will trouble the harmony,
and hinder the equality of Mea&s;ures,
as I &s;hall &s;how; at pre&s;ent I &s;peak on|ly
of &s;imple Feet that may form a
perfect harmony. Tho&s;e which are
call'd <HI>compos'd Feet</HI> con&s;i&s;t of two &s;im|ple
Feet.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 N="5" TYPE="rule">
<HEAD>The Fifth Rule.</HEAD>
<P>A Foot cannot be compos'd of a|bove
three Syllables: &s;hould it con&s;i&s;t
of four Syllables, they would be ei|ther
all &s;hort, or &s;ome of them long.
If they were all &s;hort, their pronunci|ation
would be too glib, and by con|&s;equence
vicious; a Foot of four &s;hort
Syllables cannot be di&s;tinctly under|der&s;tood.
If in a Foot of four Sylla|bles
there be one long, and three
&s;hort, the long Syllable will not be
equivalent to the three &s;hort, which
mea&s;ure offends again&s;t the Fourth
Rule.</P>
</DIV4>
<DIV4 N="6" TYPE="rule">
<PB N="173" REF="116">
<HEAD>The Sixth Rule.</HEAD>
<P>The Ear reduces always the com|pos'd
Mea&s;ures to the &s;imple, becau&s;e
&s;imple things are under&s;tood and
heard with more ea&s;e and di&s;tinction:
So a Mea&s;ure compos'd of Four long
Syllables, is by the Ear reducible into
Two.</P>
<P>The&s;e Rules give us to under&s;tand
that all <HI>Simple Feet</HI> con&s;i&s;t either of
two or three Syllables: Let us now
&s;ee how many &s;orts may be of two
Syllables, and how many of three.</P>
<P>A Foot con&s;i&s;ting of two Syllables,
both of them long, is call'd <HI>Spon|daeus.</HI></P>
<P>When it con&s;i&s;ts of two &s;hort Sylla|bles,
it is call'd <HI>Pyrrichus.</HI></P>
<P>When the fir&s;t of the two Syllables
is long, and the &s;econd &s;hort, 'tis call'd
<HI>Trochaeus.</HI></P>
<P>When the fir&s;t is &s;hort, and the &s;e|cond
long, it is call'd <HI>Jambus.</HI></P>
<P>In a Foot of three Syllables when
they are all long, it is call'd <HI>Molo&s;|&s;us.</HI></P>
<P>When they are all &s;hort, it is call'd
<HI>Tribrachus.</HI></P>
<P><PB N="174" REF="117">
When the fir&s;t is long, and the two
other &s;hort, it is call'd <HI>Dactylus.</HI></P>
<P>When the la&s;t is long, and the two
fir&s;t &s;hort, it is call'd <HI>Anapaesteus.</HI></P>
<P>When the fir&s;t is &s;hort, and the two
la&s;t long, it is call'd <HI>Bachius.</HI></P>
<P>When the two fir&s;t are long, and
the la&s;t &s;hort, it is call'd <HI>Anti-Bachi|us.</HI></P>
<P>When the two extreams are long,
and the middle &s;hort, it is call'd <HI>Am|phi-macres.</HI></P>
<P>When the two extreams are &s;hort,
and that in the middle long it is call'd
<HI>Amphibrachus.</HI></P>
<P>But all the&s;e Feet cannot be brought
into Ver&s;e, becau&s;e they have not the
requi&s;ite conditions in their Mea&s;ure.
Many are excluded in Poetry by the
precedent Rules. The <HI>Pyrrichus</HI> by
the Second: the <HI>Molo&s;&s;us</HI> by the
Fourth: The <HI>Bachius</HI> and <HI>Anti-Ba|chius</HI>
by the &s;ame Rule: The <HI>Amphi|macres</HI>
and the <HI>Ampbibracus</HI> by the
Sixth; be&s;ides this we &s;hall make it
appear that equality cannot be pre|&s;erv'd
in the two la&s;t mea&s;ures; &s;o that
there are in effect but &s;ix Feet, that is
<PB N="175" REF="117">
to &s;ay, the <HI>Spondaeus,</HI> the <HI>Trochaeus,</HI> the
<HI>Jambus,</HI> the <HI>Tribrachus,</HI> the <HI>Dactylus,</HI>
and the <HI>Anapae&s;tus.</HI> There are &s;eve|ral
others nam'd, but all of them na|turally
reducible to the&s;e &s;ix &s;orts of
Feet.</P>
</DIV4>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the Quality of Mea&s;ures.</HEAD>
<P>WHen two Syllables are pro|nounc'd
in equal time, the
quantity or time of the &s;ayd Syllables
are reckon'd to be equal. This Equa|lity
is found betwixt two Syllables,
and a third, when in the &s;ame time
that one of the &s;ayd Syllables is pro|nounc'd,
we have lea&s;ure to pronounce
the other two. We &s;ay that the time of
one &s;yllable is either the double or
treble of the time of a &s;econd &s;yllable,
if in the time that we pronounce the one
the other may be pronounc'd in the
&s;ame &s;pace of time twice or thrice:
&s;o the quantity of a long Syllable is
double the time of a &s;hort. When the
time of the pronunciation of two Syl|lables
can be mea&s;ured by a preci&s;e
mea&s;ure, and the time of the pronun|ciation
of the one is double to the
<PB N="176" REF="118">
time of pronunciation of the other, the
proportion prevents confu&s;ion, and
makes the Ear perceive di&s;tinctly the
quantity of the &s;aid Syllables; for
which rea&s;on it mu&s;t nece&s;&s;arily
plea&s;e, &s;eeing the Equality (as we
have &s;ayd before) is agreeable only
becau&s;e it renders Sounds di&s;tinct, and
takes away confu&s;ion. There is in eve|ry
Mea&s;ure or Foot an Elevation, and
a Relaxation. <HI>Pes habet elationem &amp;
po&s;itionem.</HI> To the end therefore that
Equality may be kept, the time of
Elevation ought to be equal to the
time of Relaxation. In a <HI>Spondaeus,</HI> the
time of Relaxation, and Elevation
perfectly equal, becau&s;e the Foot is
compos'd of two long Syllables. It is
the &s;ame in the <HI>Dactylus</HI> and <HI>Anapae|&s;tus,</HI>
the time of the two &s;hort Syllables
being equal to the time of a long
Syllable. In the <HI>Trochaeus</HI> and the <HI>Jam|bus</HI>
the equality is not &s;o exact, for
the difference betwixt a long Syllable
and a &s;hort is not &s;o di&s;tingui&s;hible as
to offend the Ear.</P>
<P>This is to be ob&s;erv'd; a con&s;idera|ble
&s;ilence is equivalent at lea&s;t to a
<PB N="177" REF="118">
&s;hort quantity. So a <HI>Trochaeus</HI> is equi|valent
to a <HI>Spondaeus</HI> or a <HI>Dactylus,</HI> if
after that Foot the voice repo&s;es and
&s;tops, and then the time of Relaxation
is equal with the time of Elevation;
which is of importance to be con&s;i|der'd,
in an&s;wer to an Objection that
may be rais'd again&s;t what we have
&s;ayd, that a Mea&s;ure or Foot does ne|ce&s;&s;arily
require two Syllables. In
<HI>Odes</HI> there are feet to be found that
con&s;i&s;t only of one long Syllable; but
the Repo&s;e of the Voice, <HI>Di&s;tinctionis
mora,</HI> where the &s;ilence that follows a
long quantity, holds the place of a
&s;hort, with that long quantity, it
makes a <HI>Trochaeus,</HI> which is a mea&s;ure
of two Syllables.</P>
<P>In this we may &s;ee the grounds of
what we have &s;ayd before, that a foot
cannot be compos'd of more than two
long Syllables; for if the Elevation
or Relaxation comprehends the in|tervenient
Syllable, there will be no
farther equality betwixt the two
parts. If this Syllable be not com|priz'd
in either of the two parts of
the mea&s;ure <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 word"> will add nothing to
<PB N="178" REF="119">
the harmony, and by con&s;equence be
trouble&s;om. For this rea&s;on the <HI>Am|phimacres,</HI>
and the <HI>Amphibrachus</HI> can|not
&s;tand in a Ver&s;e, becau&s;e there
mu&s;t be either a &s;hort quantity be|twixt
two long; or a long quantity
betwixt two &s;hort; &s;o that the inter|mediat
Syllable not being to be
joyn'd with either of the extremities,
but by troubling the Equality, it be|comes
u&s;ele&s;s, and interrupts the har|mony.
And yet the&s;e quantities may
be brought into an harmonious &s;tru|cture,
the times of their Elevation and
Relaxation being proportionable. In
a foot of three long Syllables (which
we have call'd <HI>Molo&s;&s;us)</HI> the time of
Relaxation upon the two la&s;t long
Syllables, is double to the time of ele|vation
upon the fir&s;t long Syllable, for
which rea&s;on the times are proportio|nable,
and by con&s;equence may be
agreeable to the Ear as we have &s;ayd
before. So a Di&s;cour&s;e compos'd of
a mixture of tho&s;e feet, may be har|monious.
But in this ca&s;e Ver&s;e is
excluded, becau&s;e the harmony of
Ver&s;e ought to be di&s;tingui&s;hible,
<PB N="179" REF="119">
which cannot be, if the equality of
the mea&s;ures be not axactly ob&s;erv'd.
In an <HI>Jambus</HI> and a <HI>Trochaeus</HI> this e|quality
is not to be kept; but the dif|ference
betwixt a &s;hort quantity and
a long is not much di&s;cernible, be|cau&s;e
a &s;hort quantity is pronounc'd
quick. Whereas the inequality be|twixt
the parts of a mea&s;ure of three
long Syllables is very plain, being
much greater; for two long are as
much as four &s;hort, V V V V, one
long, is to two long as to V V, and
one long is to one &s;hort as to V. <HI>Vi|ctorinus</HI>
tells us a &s;hort is a quantity,
and therefore as <HI>Servius Honorius</HI> ob|&s;erves,
a <HI>Spondaeus</HI> has four times.</P>
<P>A mea&s;ure is equal to another mea|&s;ure,
when the time of their pronunci|ation
is equal. The <HI>Spondaeus,</HI> the
<HI>Dactylus,</HI> and the <HI>Anapae&s;tus</HI> are of e|qual
mea&s;ures. <HI>Tempora elationis &amp;
po&s;itionis aequalia &s;unt.</HI> The <HI>Trochaeus,</HI>
the <HI>Jambus,</HI> and the <HI>Tribrachus</HI> are
likewi&s;e of equal mea&s;ures, for the
two &s;hort of the three of a <HI>Tribra|chus</HI>
being equivalent to the one long,
that foot is equal to a <HI>Trochaeus,</HI> or an
<PB N="180" REF="120">
<HI>Jambus.</HI> The equality is not exactly
ju&s;t betwixt a <HI>Spondaeus,</HI> or an <HI>Jam|bus;</HI>
but, as is &s;ayd, the difference
being &s;mall, a ver&s;e may be well com|pos'd
of the &s;ix &s;ort of Feet before
mention'd, becau&s;e they are equal, or
very near equal. We &s;hall &s;peak here|after
of the placing of the&s;e feet.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the Variety of the&s;e Mea&s;ures, and
the Alliance of their Equality with
their Variety.</HEAD>
<P>VAriety is &s;o nece&s;&s;ary to prevent
the di&s;gu&s;t of the mo&s;t agreea|ble
things, that the Mu&s;itians who ac|curatly
endeavour the proportion and
con&s;onance of Sounds, do always af|fect
di&s;cord in their Harmony, that is
to &s;ay, they neglect the perfect Uni|&s;on
of their Voice, that grating may,
like Salt, provoke the appetite of the
Ear. If therefore the Poets &s;hould
not approve the Rules we have given,
we are not to be blam'd, becau&s;e to
<PB N="181" REF="120">
them we have added this, that we are
to correct the &s;weetne&s;s of the Equa|lity,
by the Salt (as I may call it) of
the Variety.</P>
<P>Variety is found &s;everal ways in
Latin ver&s;e. I &s;peak not of that which
con&s;i&s;ts in the difference of Sen&s;e, and
the diver&s;ity of words. Fir&s;t, it is clear
that in the <HI>Dactylus,</HI> the <HI>Trochaeus,</HI>
the <HI>Jambus,</HI> the <HI>Anapae&s;tus,</HI> and the
<HI>Tribrarchus</HI> the Elevation is fardiffe|rent,
from the depre&s;&s;ion or relaxati|on:
and though the quantity of two
&s;hort Vowels be equal to a long, yet
the Ear perceives a &s;en&s;ible difference
betwixt a long Syllable and two &s;hort,
Syllables: &s;o though the time or
quantity of a <HI>Spondaeus,</HI> a <HI>Dactylus,</HI>
and <HI>Anapaestus</HI> be equal, yet their
difference is di&s;cernible. <HI>In dactylo
tollitur una longa, ponuntur duae bre|ves;
In Anapae&s;to tolluntur duae breves,
ponitur una longa; S: in &s;pondaeo tolli|tur
&amp; ponitur una longa.</HI></P>
<P>A Ver&s;e is not commonly made of
one &s;ort of feet; <HI>Hexameters</HI> are made
of <HI>Spondy's</HI> and <HI>Dactyles.</HI> Pentameters
of <HI>Spondy's, Dactyles,</HI> and <HI>Anapoe&s;tis.</HI>
<PB N="182" REF="121">
Jambicks of &s;everal &s;orts of Feet. Ly|rick,
are more diver&s;ify'd than others;
becau&s;e they not only receive different
Feet, but al&s;o the number of their feet
is unequal, &s;ometimes more and &s;ome|times
le&s;s.</P>
<P>A Ver&s;e compo&s;ed wholly of <HI>Spon|des,</HI>
or wholly of <HI>Dactyles,</HI> would not
plea&s;e; we mu&s;t temper the &s;wiftne&s;s
of the <HI>Dactyle,</HI> by the &s;lowne&s;s and
gravity of the <HI>Sponde:</HI> An <HI>Jambick</HI>
may be made perfectly of <HI>Jambu&s;es,</HI>
becau&s;e that Ver&s;e pa&s;&s;ing exceeding
&s;wift, though it con&s;i&s;ts of &s;ix Feet,
&s;eems to have but three. Wherefore
the too great equality of Mea&s;ures in
&s;o &s;mall a number, cannot be trou|ble&s;om,
as is evident in this ver&s;e.</P>
<Q>Suis &amp; ip&s;a Roma viribus ruit.</Q>
<P>The mea&s;ures in an <HI>Hexameter</HI> are
large, but very &s;en&s;ible: &s;o if their
equality be not accompanyed with
variety, the Ver&s;e is di&s;agreeable.</P>
<P><HI>Lyrick</HI> Ver&s;e is compos'd common|ly
of &s;everal &s;orts of Feet; becau&s;e
that Ver&s;e being de&s;ign'd to be Sung
<PB N="183" REF="121">
in Mu&s;ick, the Harmony would not
be plea&s;ing, if the difference of Feet,
did not afford occa&s;ion to the Mu&s;ici|ans
to diver&s;ifie their Voices.</P>
<P>The allyance of Variety and Equa|lity
is manife&s;t in Latin Poe&s;y. It is
evident, for example, that in a <HI>Da|ctyle</HI>
equality and variety is to be
found; Equality, becau&s;e the time of
two &s;hort Syllables is equivalent to
the long; and Variety, becau&s;e as we
have &s;ayd, the Ear di&s;tingui&s;hes very
well of the difference betwixt one
long Syllable and two &s;hort. Though
the Ver&s;es be compos'd of different
Feet, yet all tho&s;e different feet are e|qual,
becau&s;e the time of their pro|nunciation
is equal.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="6" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>VI.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">How the Romans made the Allyance
of the Equality and Variety of
their Ver&s;e di&s;tingui&s;hable.</HEAD>
<P>THe Latins joyn'd their mea&s;ures
in Ver&s;e, by Sections or Re|trenchment,
<PB N="184" REF="122">
of certain Syllables, of the
precedent word, to make a foot, with
the Syllables in the beginning of the
following word; as for example.</P>
<Q>Ille meas errare boves, &amp;c.</Q>
<P>The Syllable <HI>as</HI> in <HI>meas,</HI> is a Secti|on;
The Syllable <HI>as</HI> with the Syllable
<HI>er</HI> in the following word <HI>errare</HI> ma|king
a <HI>Spondaeus.</HI> This Section is it
that incorporates the mea&s;ures, and
pre&s;ents them together to the ear; for
the voice not being u&s;ed to &s;top in the
middle of a word, and divide it, pro|nounces
the following word &s;wiftly,
after it has once begun it. But this
Section makes the feet to end and be|gin
in the middle of a word; &s;o the
Voice that repo&s;es not in tho&s;e places,
joyning the Syllables of each word,
joyns the feet at the &s;ame time, and
links them one within the other. This
ob&s;ervation may be more vi&s;ible by
cutting the two following Ver&s;es in|to
&s;uch Sections.</P>
<Q><L>Ille me&mdash;as er&mdash;rare bo&mdash;ves ut&mdash;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">ernis
&amp;&mdash;ip&s;um</L>
<L><PB N="185" REF="122">
Ludere&mdash;quae vel&mdash;lem cala&mdash;mo
per&mdash;mi&s;it a&mdash;gre&s;ti.</L></Q>
<P>The Voice di&s;tingui&s;hes each of
the&s;e Mea&s;ures (as is &s;ayd before) by
an Elevation at the beginning, and a
relaxation at the end; but it binds
al&s;o the&s;e Mea&s;ures by the&s;e Sections.
When the Voice has pronounc'd the
Syllable <HI>me</HI> in <HI>meas,</HI> it pronounces
<HI>as</HI> next, which makes part of the fol|lowing
Foot, and &s;o joyns the fir&s;t and
the following Mea&s;ure together. The
Second Mea&s;ure is joyn'd with the
Third, for the Voice not &s;topping in
the middle of the word, <HI>Errare,</HI> goes
on without interruption, (after ha|ving
&s;ay'd <HI>er)</HI> to the pronunciation of
the end <HI>rare,</HI> by which means the
Ear receives them united and joyn'd
together. The third mea&s;ure is joyn'd
in the &s;ame manner with the Fourth.
Ver&s;e without Sections do not appear
to be Ver&s;e, becau&s;e (as we have &s;ayd)
the Equality of Mea&s;ures that makes
the beauty of a Ver&s;e, is not di&s;tingui|&s;hable,
unle&s;s they be joyn'd, and the
Ear &s;en&s;ible of their Conjunction. We
may read the following words, and
<PB N="186" REF="123">
not ob&s;erve that they make a Ver&s;e,
becau&s;e they want the afore&s;aid Se|ction.</P>
<Q>&V;rbem &verbar; fortem &verbar; cepit &verbar; nuper &verbar; for|tior
&verbar; ho&s;tis.</Q>
<P>It remains now only that I &s;peak of
the number of Mea&s;ures requir'd in
the compo&s;ition of Ver&s;e. It is clear
a Ver&s;e requires at lea&s;t two Mea|&s;ures.
We have &s;hown that it is the
equality of the&s;e Mea&s;ures that plea|&s;es
the Ear, when the &s;aid Mea&s;ures
being pre&s;ented to it, it perceives the
equality by comparing them one
with another: But, as has been often
&s;ayd, all compari&s;on pre&s;uppo&s;es at
lea&s;t two terms. If the number of the&s;e
Mea&s;ures be too great, it is plain the
Ear that ought to con&s;ider them all
together, will be overlay'd and op|pre&s;s'd
with the greatne&s;s of their
number. Wherefore a Ver&s;e is never
compos'd of above &s;ix great Mea|&s;ures,
&s;uch as the <HI>Sponde's</HI> and the
<HI>Dactyles.</HI> An <HI>Jambick</HI> is capable of
eight Feet, becau&s;e as afore&s;ayd, the
<PB N="187" REF="123">
Foot which denominates that Ver&s;e,
pa&s;&s;es very quick, and eight of tho&s;e
mea&s;ures make but Four of the Grea|ter.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="7" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>VII.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the French Poetry.</HEAD>
<P>THe <HI>French</HI> di&s;tingui&s;h the mea|&s;ures
of their Ver&s;e after ano|ther
manner than the <HI>Romans.</HI> The
<HI>French</HI> elevate the Voice at the be|ginning
of the Sentence, and abate it
only at the end of a Sentence; where|fore
if a mea&s;ure in <HI>French</HI> Poe&s;y
&s;hould begin in the middle of one
word, and conclude in the middle of
another word, the Voice could not di|&s;tingui&s;h
by any inflexion, the &s;ayd
mea&s;ure as it does in Latin. To put
di&s;tinction therefore betwixt the mea|&s;ures,
and that the Ear may perceive
that di&s;tinction by Elevation of the
Voice at the beginning, and depre&s;&s;ion
at the end, each mea&s;ure ought to con|tain
<PB N="188" REF="124">
a perfect &s;en&s;e; which makes
the mea&s;ure large, and &s;o as a <HI>French</HI>
Ver&s;e is &s;eldom compos'd of above
two Mea&s;ures, which parts it in two
equal parts, of which the fir&s;t is call'd
<HI>Hemi&s;tick.</HI> So the mea&s;ures of the
<HI>French</HI> Ver&s;e are di&s;tingui&s;h'd after a
natural way, for naturally and with|out
any art we rai&s;e the Voice at the
beginning of an expre&s;&s;ion with a
compleat &s;en&s;e, and we let the Voice
fall naturally at the end of a compleat
&s;en&s;e. The Equality of the mea&s;ures
depends upon an equal number of
Vowels; in the <HI>French</HI> Language all
the Vowels are pronounc'd with e|qual
time: It is evident, if two Ex|pre&s;&s;ions
have an equal number of
Vowels, the times of their pronuncia|tions
are equal.</P>
<P>The equality of two mea&s;ures of
which every Ver&s;e is compos'd, can
give but an indifferent plea&s;ure, &s;o we
commonly joyn two Ver&s;es together
which make four Mea&s;ures: This
conjunction is made by the union of
the &s;ame &s;en&s;e. To render this Con|junction
the more &s;en&s;ible, the Ver&s;es
<PB N="189" REF="124">
which comprehend the &s;ame &s;en&s;e, are
made to Rime, that is, to end both in
the &s;ame manner. Nothing is more
perceptible to the Ear, than the &s;ound
of words: So Rime that is nothing
but repetition of the &s;ame &s;ound, is
very proper for the better di&s;tinction
of the mea&s;ures of Ver&s;e. When upon
the declen&s;ion of the Empire, they be|gan
to give the &s;ame quantity to all
the Vowels, the Poets troubled them|&s;elves
no farther than for Rime, and
to equal the expre&s;&s;ions which they
ended by tho&s;e Rimes. This way of
making Ver&s;es is very &s;imple, and
quickly tyre&s;om, unle&s;s we be careful
to occupy the mind of the Reader by
the richne&s;s and variety of our
thoughts, &s;o as it may not be &s;en&s;ible
of their &s;implicity.</P>
<P>I &s;hall &s;how in few words the Fun|damentals
of the <HI>French</HI> Poetry, and
to render what I have &s;ayd the more
intelligible, apply the &s;ame to the
two following Ver&s;es.</P>
<Q><L>Je chante cette guerre</L>
<L>Ou Phar&s;ale jugeae.</L>
<L>En cruaute feconde,</L>
<L>de l'Empire du Monde.</L></Q>
<P><PB N="200" REF="125">
The Ear perceives only two Mea|&s;ures
in each of the&s;e Ver&s;es, and
di&s;tingui&s;hes them by rai&s;ing of the
Voice in the beginning, and the de|pre&s;&s;ion
of it at the end of each of
the Mea&s;ures, which contain a per|fect
&s;en&s;e. The Four Mea&s;ures of
the&s;e two Ver&s;es are bound together
by the union of the &s;ame &s;en&s;e, and by
the Rime. Be&s;ides the equality of
time, we may ob&s;erve that the equali|ty
of the repo&s;e of the Voice (which
is repos'd in pronouncing our Ver&s;e
by equal Intervals) contributes much
to their beauty: I &s;peak not of the
different works in Ver&s;e, <HI>Alexandrin's
Sonnets, Stanzas, &amp;c.</HI> Tho&s;e Ver|&s;es
differ among them&s;elves only by
the number of their Syllables: Some
are compos'd of longer, &s;ome of &s;hor|ter,
mea&s;ures. In &s;ome the Rimes are
intermixed.</P>
<P>As among the Latins works are
compos'd of different &s;orts of Ver&s;e,
&s;o among the <HI>French</HI> they couple &s;hort
Ver&s;e and long Ver&s;e together. The
Art that is u&s;ed in the&s;e kind of
Works has nothing in it difficult e|nough
<PB N="201" REF="125">
to de&s;erve our explanation.</P>
<P>It is not &s;ufficient to give a Ver&s;e
its ju&s;t mea&s;ure; to have regard to
the quantity or time of every Vow|el,
or to the number of the &s;ame Vow|els;
Their Concour&s;e, and the Con|cour&s;e
of Con&s;onants with which they
are found, augment or le&s;&s;en their
Mea&s;ures. Betwixt words of the
&s;ame quantity, or words that contain
an equal number of Vowels, &s;ome are
ruff, &s;ome &s;weet, &s;ome fluent, others
langui&s;hing; wherefore to render the
mea&s;ures of a Ver&s;e equal, (whether it
be in Latin, or whether it be in
<HI>French,)</HI> we ought to have near as
much care to the Con&s;onants as to
the Vowels.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="202" REF="126">
<HEAD>CHAP. V.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">There is a strange &s;ympathy betwixt
the Soul and Numbers; and what
Numbers are.</HEAD>
<P>WE have &s;een that a Di&s;cour&s;e is
agreeable when the times of
the Pronunciation of Syllables which
compo&s;e it are mea&s;ured by exact mea|&s;ures;
That the time, (for example) of
a Syllable is exactly either the double
or treble time of another Syllable.
The exacte&s;t mea&s;ures are tho&s;e which
are expre&s;s'd by numbers. In Geome|try
all exact Rea&s;ons are call'd <HI>Rati|ones
numeri ad numerum:</HI> and there|fore
the Ma&s;ters in the <HI>Art of Spea|king</HI>
have thought good to call <HI>Nu|meros</HI>
whatever the Ear perceives of
proportion in the pronunciation of a
Sentence, whether it be the proporti|on
of the mea&s;ure of Time, or a ju&s;t di|&s;tribution
of the Intervals of Re&s;pira|tion.
<HI>Cicero de Orat. lib.</HI> 3. tells us,
<HI>Numero&s;um e&s;t id in omnibus &s;onis
<PB N="203" REF="126">
at&abque; Vocibus, quod habet qua&s;dam im|pre&s;&s;iones,
&amp; quod metiri po&s;&s;umus in|tervallis
aequalibus.</HI> And <HI>Numero&s;a
Oratio</HI> in Latin, is the &s;ame as an
elegant or harmonious Di&s;cour&s;e
with us. The Cadence of a &s;tudied
Di&s;cour&s;e is likewi&s;e call'd a number.
Saint <HI>Augustin</HI> ob&s;erves that our
Souls have a &s;ympathy and allyance
with the&s;e numbers; and that the dif|ferent
motions of the mind do cor|re&s;pond
and follow certain Tones of
the Voice, to which the Soul has a &s;e|cret
inclination. <HI>Mira animi no&s;tri
cum numeris cognatio: Omnes affe|ctus
Spiritus no&s;tri pro &s;ui diver&s;itate
habent pro prios modos in voce, quo|rum
ne&s;cio qua occulta familiaritate
connectantur. Longinus</HI> that excel|lent
Critick, tells us that the&s;e num|bers
are in&s;truments very proper to
provoke or agitate our Pa&s;&s;ions.</P>
<P>To &s;earch into the Cau&s;es of this
marvellous &s;ympathy betwixt Num|bers
and our Soul, and how they
come to that power and efficacy up|on
our pa&s;&s;ions, we mu&s;t know that
the motions of the mind, do follow
<PB N="204" REF="127">
the motions of the Animal Spi|rits;
as tho&s;e Spirits are &s;low or
quick, calm or turbulent, the mind
is affected with different Pa&s;&s;ions:
The lea&s;t force is able to ob&s;truct or
excite the Animal Spirits, their re&s;i|&s;tance
is but &s;mall; and their Levity
is the cau&s;e that the lea&s;t unu&s;ual mo|tion
determines them; the lea&s;t mo|tion
of a &s;ound puts them in agitati|on.
Our Body is &s;o di&s;pos'd, that a
ruff and boy&s;terous &s;ound forcing our
Spirits into the Mu&s;cles, di&s;po&s;es it to
flight, and begets an aver&s;ion, in the
&s;ame manner as a frightful Object be|gets
horror by the eye. On the other
&s;ide a &s;oft and moderate &s;ound, attracts
and invites our attention. If we &s;peak
lowd or ha&s;tily to a Bea&s;t, it will run
from us; by &s;peaking gently, we al|lure
and make it tame. From whence
we may collect that diver&s;ity of
Sounds do produce diver&s;ity of moti|ons
in the Animal Spirits.</P>
<P>Every motion that is made in the
Organs of Sen&s;e, and communicated
to the Animal Spirits, is connext by
the God of Nature, to &s;ome certain
<PB N="205" REF="127">
motion of the Soul; Sound can ex|cite
pa&s;&s;ions, and we may &s;ay, that e|very
pa&s;&s;ion an&s;wers to &s;ome &s;ound or
other; which is it, that excites in the
Animal Spirits, the motion wherewith
it is allyed. This Connexion is the
cau&s;e of our Sympathy with Num|bers,
and that naturally, according to
the Tone of the Speaker, our Re&s;ent|ment
is different. If a Tone be langui|&s;hing
and doleful, it in&s;pires &s;adne&s;s;
if it be lowd and brisk, it begets viva|city
and courage; &s;ome Ayres are
gay, and others Melancholly.</P>
<P>To di&s;cover the particular Cau&s;es
of this Sympathy, and explain how
among the numbers, &s;ome produce
&s;adne&s;s, &s;ome joy, we &s;hould con&s;i|der
the different motion of the Animal
Spirits in each of our Pa&s;&s;ions. It is
ea&s;y to be conceiv'd, that if the im|pre&s;&s;ion
of &s;uch a &s;ound 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 in|equality)
it may rai&s;e Choller, and
continue it. On the contrary, if the
<PB N="206" REF="128">
impre&s;&s;ion be doleful and melanchol|ly,
if the commotion it cau&s;es in the
Animal Spirits be feeble and langui|&s;hing,
and in the &s;ame temper as com|monly
in Melancholly, what we have
&s;ayd ought not to &s;eem &s;trange; e&s;pe|cially
if we reflect upon what has been
deriv'd to us from many eminent Au|thors,
relating to the &s;trange effects of
Mu&s;ick. Some have affirm'd there
were per&s;ons who play'd &s;o excellent|ly
upon the Flute, that they knew how
to accommodate their Ayres to all
kinds of Malady's, how to ea&s;e tho&s;e
who were in pain, delight tho&s;e who
were &s;ad, and recover tho&s;e who were
&s;ick.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">When Numbers agree with the things
that are expre&s;s'd, the Di&s;cour&s;e be|comes
more &s;ignificative and lively.</HEAD>
<P>IT is not to be doubted but &s;ounds
are &s;ignificative, and of power to
<PB N="197" REF="128">
renew the <HI>Idea</HI>'s of &s;everal things:
The &s;ound of a Trumpet, does it not
put us in mind, and provoke us to
Combate? Upon this &s;core <HI>Cicero</HI>
&s;peaking of <HI>Thucydides</HI> that excellent
Hi&s;torian, tells us, that when he de|&s;cribes
a Battle, he does it with that
Empha&s;is and Elevation of Style, that
makes us think our &s;elves pre&s;ent, and
that we heard the Trumpet indeed.
<HI>De Bellicis &s;cribens, concitatiori nu|mero
videtur bellicum canere.</HI> When
we hear the noi&s;e of the Sea, we ima|gine
it pre&s;ently, though perhaps it is
out of our &s;ight: When we hear a man
&s;peak that we know, his image pre&s;ents
it &s;elf to our mind, before we &s;ee him
with our eyes. In a word, the <HI>Idea's</HI>
of things have a &s;ecret Allyance and
Connexion among them&s;elves, and do
excite one another. It is not to be
que&s;tion'd, but certain &s;ounds, certain
Numbers, and certain Cadences, do
contribute to awake the Images of
things with which they have had al|lyance
and connexion. <HI>Virgil</HI> is very
happy in giving Cadence to his Ver&s;e,
that alone is &s;ufficient to excite the
<PB N="198" REF="129">
<HI>Idea's</HI> of the things he would &s;ignify.
Who is it that reading the&s;e words
<Q><L>&mdash;Et altos</L>
<L>Con&s;cendit furibunda Rogos.&mdash;</L></Q>
would not conceive by the quickne&s;s
and elevation of the Cadence, the pre|cipitation
wherewith <HI>Dido</HI> (the per&s;on
meant in that place) threw her &s;elf
upon the Pyle which &s;he had prepar'd
to burn her &s;elf. When I read this de|&s;cription
of Sleep,
<Q><L>Tempus erat quo prima quies mor|talibus
aegris</L>
<L>Incipit, &amp; dono divum grati&s;&s;ima
&s;erpit;</L></Q></P>
<P>Me-thinks it lulls me, and the
&s;mooth &s;liding of the Ver&s;e gives me
an <HI>Idea</HI> of &s;leep, that &s;lides gently in
my fancy without being perceiv'd.
In this Speech of <HI>Sinon</HI> the Impo&s;tor,
this doleful number
<Q><L>Heu! quae nunc tellus, inquit, quae
me aequora po&s;&s;unt</L>
<L><PB N="199" REF="129">
Accipere, aut quid jam Mi&s;ero mi|hi
deni&abque; re&s;tat?</L></Q>
Is enough to excite compa&s;&s;ion in the
<HI>Trojans.</HI> Often-times the manner of
delivering a thing, the po&s;ture, the ha|bits,
are more Eloquent and Emphati|cal
than the words. A neglected ha|bit,
a dejected po&s;ture, a &s;orrowful
look, prevails more than argument, or
intreaty. So the Cadence of Words is
many times of more force than the
words them&s;elves. In &s;hort, we can|not
doubt of the efficacy of the Tone.
A bold Tone begets an Impre&s;&s;ion of
Fear. A &s;orrowful Tone di&s;po&s;es to
compa&s;&s;ion. Di&s;cour&s;e lo&s;eth much of
its force when not &s;u&s;tain'd with ad|vantages
of action and voice: It is an
In&s;trument 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 &s;uitable to the things of
which we di&s;cour&s;e, keeps it (as it
were) alive, by pre&s;erving the Tone
with which it ought to be pro|nounc'd.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="200" REF="130">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The way of joyning our Di&s;cour&s;e by
Numbers that corre&s;pond to the
things &s;ignified.</HEAD>
<P><HI>PLato</HI> pretends that the Names of
things were not given by chance,
and that Rea&s;on has greater &s;hare in
the e&s;tabli&s;hment of Language, than
Fancy and <HI>Caprice.</HI> To ju&s;tifie this
Opinion, he demon&s;trates by &s;everal
Examples that the fir&s;t roots from
whence the other words were de|riv'd,
were made of Letters, who&s;e
&s;ound expre&s;s'd after a manner, the
thing &s;ignified. It would be hard to
defend this Opinion of <HI>Plato</HI> in all the
<HI>Radixes,</HI> but yet without doubt in
all Languages there are words who&s;e
&s;ounds are &s;ignificative; and the beau|ty
of their Names con&s;i&s;ts in their
corre&s;pondence with the thing that
they &s;ignifie, either by the agreeable|ne&s;s
of the Cadence, as in the word
<HI>Boar:</HI> or becau&s;e it is deriv'd from a|nother
<PB N="201" REF="130">
name that &s;ignifies &s;omething
which re&s;embles it.</P>
<P>He who would joyn his Di&s;cour&s;e
by numbers conformable to his &s;en&s;e;
needs no more than to con&s;ult his
Ears, and learn from them what is the
proper &s;ound of every Letter, Vowel,
Con&s;onant, Syllable, and with what
thing that &s;ound can mo&s;t properly a|gree.
Some Authors have been very
indu&s;trious in ob&s;erving the&s;e practi|ces:
For example, 'tis ob&s;erv'd the
Con&s;onant <HI>F</HI> expre&s;&s;es the Wind,
<Q>Cum flamma furentibus Austris.</Q></P>
<P>The Con&s;onant <HI>S</HI> expre&s;&s;es a Cur|rant
of Water or Blood,
<Q>&mdash;Et plenos Sanguine Rivot.</Q></P>
<P>In like manner it expre&s;&s;es a Tem|pe&s;t,
<Q>Luctantes Ventos, tempe&s;tate&s;&abque; &s;o|noras.</Q></P>
<P>The Letter <HI>L</HI> agrees with &s;oft
&s;oft things,
<Q><L>Mollia luteola pingit vaccinia cal|tha:</L>
<L>&mdash;Est mollisflamma Medullas.</L></Q></P>
<P><HI>Virgil</HI> u&s;es &s;everal <HI>M's</HI> very happily
to expre&s;s an ob&s;treperous confus'd
noi&s;e.</P>
<Q><PB N="202" REF="131">
<L>&mdash;Magno cum murmere Montis</L>
<L>Circum Clau&s;tra fremunt.</L></Q>
<P>Among the Vowels, &s;ome have a
clear and &s;trong &s;ound; others are
weak and ob&s;cure: and we may com|po&s;e
our Di&s;cour&s;e as we plea&s;e of
&s;uch as are proper for our de&s;ign,
when we have a mind our Cadence
&s;hould be weak or &s;trong, clear or
ob&s;cure.</P>
<P>Particular regard mu&s;t be had to
the mea&s;ures of time. Among tho&s;e
Mea&s;ures the <HI>Spondaeus</HI> marches grave|ly;
The <HI>Dactylus</HI> rowls off &s;ome|thing
fa&s;ter; the <HI>Jambus</HI> goes fa&s;ter
than that; and the <HI>Trochaeus</HI> &s;eems to
run, and takes its name from a Greek
word of that &s;ignification. The <HI>Ana|poe&s;tus,</HI>
in oppo&s;ition to the <HI>Dactylus</HI>
rowling on pretty fa&s;t in the begin|ning,
at the latter end, &s;eems to
knock or da&s;h again&s;t &s;omething that
repells it; from whence that al&s;o has
its name, and is as much as <HI>Reper|cu&s;&s;ion.</HI>
The effects of the&s;e mea&s;ures
are all different. He who would ac|commodat
the Cadence of his words to
<PB N="203" REF="131">
the things of which he treats, ought
to &s;elect tho&s;e feet which are mo&s;t
conformable to them. <HI>Virgil</HI> makes
u&s;e of <HI>Dactyles</HI> to expre&s;s the &s;wift|ne&s;s
of an action,
<Q><L>&mdash;Illi equore aperto</L>
<L>Ante notos Zephirum&abque; volant:
gemit ultima pul&s;u</L>
<L>Thraca pedum.&mdash;</L>
<L>Ferte cite ferrum, date tela, &s;candi|te
Muros.</L></Q></P>
<P>On the contrary he waves them, and
makes u&s;e of <HI>Sponde's</HI> when Gravity
agrees better with his expre&s;&s;ion.
<Q><L>&mdash;Magnum Jovis incrementum.</L>
<L>Tantae molis erat Romanam condere
gentem.</L>
<L>Illi inter &s;e magna vi brachia tol|lunt.</L></Q></P>
<P><HI>Cecero</HI> reports that <HI>Pythagoras</HI> fin|ding
a company of young Bully's for|cing
violently into a civil Hou&s;e, made
them quit their ruinous de&s;ign by
commanding the young Wench that
was &s;inging to put <HI>Sponde's</HI> into her
Song. <HI>Pythagoras, concitatos ad vim
<PB N="204" REF="132">
pudicae domui inferendam, juvenes,
ju&s;&s;a mutare in &s;pondeum modos tibici|na,
compe&s;cuit.</HI> The <HI>Spondeus</HI> and the
<HI>Dactylus</HI> are the two large&s;t feet,
therefore <HI>Hexameters</HI> of all Ver&s;e are
the mo&s;t Maje&s;tick, and the Sponde
at the end makes us pronounce it
&s;trong, by &s;u&s;taining our Voice. The
<HI>Anapaestus</HI> which is at the end of the
<HI>Pentameter,</HI> cau&s;es the Voice to fall;
and therefore <HI>Pentameters</HI> are u&s;ed to
expre&s;s complaints and &s;uch-like,
where the Voice is falling perpetual|ly,
and its cour&s;e often interrupted.
The <HI>Pentametre</HI> and <HI>Hexametre</HI> are
joyn'd, that the weakne&s;s of the one
may be &s;upported by the &s;trength of
the other. The <HI>Jambus</HI> is a foot &s;o
fleet, that the Cadence of a Ver&s;e
compos'd of them, is often unpercei|vable:
It pa&s;&s;es with &s;uch &s;wiftne&s;s
that that kind of Ver&s;e is &s;carce di|&s;tingui&s;hable
from pro&s;e: For which
rea&s;on the <HI>Jambus</HI> is u&s;ed commonly
in Plays, and pieces for the Stage,
where it is requi&s;ite the &s;tyle be natu|ral,
and little differing from Pro&s;e.</P>
<P><PB N="205" REF="132">
'Tis an ea&s;y matter to render the
Cadence of a Di&s;cour&s;e &s;mooth or
ruff: To make it &s;mooth we mu&s;t a|void
the concour&s;e of Vowels, which
cau&s;es cha&s;mes and void places in
our Di&s;cour&s;e, and hinders its equali|ty
and union. The Concour&s;e of Vow|els,
and the Concour&s;e of Con&s;onants
(particularly of tho&s;e which are &s;harp,
and tho&s;e which do not accord) do
make a Di&s;cour&s;e rough and uneven.
A rough Di&s;cour&s;e agrees witn things
that are ruff and unplea&s;ant, <HI>Rebus
atrocibus conveniunt verba auditu
a&s;pera.</HI> To de&s;cribe great things, we
mu&s;t make u&s;e of bigg words, words
that make a noi&s;e, and fill the mouth.
The Cadence of a mean Di&s;cour&s;e
ought to be neglected, and langui&s;hing;
for this cau&s;e it is requi&s;ite that all
the terms of which it makes u&s;e,
&s;hould have a feeble weak Sound.</P>
<P>The longer the <HI>Period's</HI> are, the
&s;tronger is the action of the Voice:
when it concerns us to &s;peak &s;orrow|fully,
our expre&s;&s;ions ought to be
&s;hort and abrupt. If the action be ve|hement;
if we be to add weight to
<PB N="206" REF="133">
our words (as tho&s;e who would make
them&s;elves formidable, do common|ly
make a great noi&s;e) we mu&s;t make
u&s;e of long periods, which cannot be
pronounc'd but with a tone more than
ordinarily &s;trong.</P>
<P>But no more of this; it would be
lo&s;s of time to give particular Rules
for each number. It is not to be ac|quir'd
but by long habit, and &s;trong
application, which animates and im|boldens
us in our Compo&s;itions; and
it is naturally that we make choice of
rough or &s;mooth terms according to
the things we would expre&s;s. I would
not have an Author perplex him&s;elf to
find out a &s;ignificative Cadence, as
he would do to find out a leak in a
Ship. I confe&s;s freely, 'tis by accident
when he &s;ucceeds; 'Tis &s;ometimes
impo&s;&s;ible, and we ought not to ingage
ra&s;hly in a thing where the &s;ucce&s;s is
&s;ubject to many accidents.</P>
<P>In appearance the greate&s;t part of
Poets were ignorant of this accord
betwixt numbers and things. They ai|med
at nothing in their Ver&s;e but a
certain &s;oftne&s;s that flagg'd and grew
<PB N="207" REF="133">
languid by degrees. With them the
joyful and the afflicted; the Ma&s;ter
and the Man, &s;pake in the &s;ame tone:
A Clown &s;pake as quaintly as a Cour|tier,
and yet tho&s;e Poets have their
admirers, who think they favour <HI>Vir|gil</HI>
exceedingly, when they repeat a|ny
of the rough and uneven Ver&s;es
wherewith he &s;ometimes expre&s;s'd
mean things, and &s;ay he did it on
purpo&s;e to make the &s;oftne&s;s and gen|tlene&s;s
of the other more &s;en&s;ible.
They do not reli&s;h the excellent Ca|dence
of this Ver&s;e, where he de|&s;cribes
the faint weak &s;troke that old
<HI>Priamus</HI> gave to <HI>Neoptolomeus,</HI> which
is weak and feeble as it ought to
be:
<Q><L>Sic fatus Senior, telum&abque; imbelle &s;i|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="2 letters">ne
ictu</L>
<L>Conjecit.</L></Q></P>
<P>I am a&s;ham'd to u&s;e the authority of
two &s;uch great Ma&s;ters, to evince a
truth that has &s;o little need of proof:
Yet <HI>Cicero</HI> and <HI>Quintilian</HI> both do
highly commend tho&s;e who have that
felicity of accommodating their num|bers
and their &s;en&s;e. Hi&s;torians, Po|ets,
<PB N="208" REF="134">
and Orators, have &s;tudiou&s;ly en|deavoured
for this Beauty. <HI>Vlpian</HI>
in his Commentaries upon the Orati|ons
of <HI>Demo&s;thenes,</HI> ob&s;erves that as
oft as that Prince of the <HI>Greek</HI> Ora|tors
&s;poke of King <HI>Philip's</HI> progre&s;s,
he &s;tops the pronuntiation of his Di&s;|cour&s;e,
and inter&s;per&s;es &s;everal little
particles to &s;ignify how &s;lowly King
<HI>Philip</HI> advanc'd in his Conque&s;ts.
<HI>Quoties tardos Philippi progre&s;&s;us vo|luit
ostendere, tardam, multis inter|jectis
particulis, orationem facie|bat.</HI></P>
<P>As for <HI>Virgil,</HI> it is in that he may
be &s;ayd to be unimitable, and that no
<HI>Poet</HI> 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 Ob|&s;ervation
of the excellence of that <HI>Po|et,</HI>
I &s;hall repre&s;ent &s;ome few of the
be&s;t places that offer them&s;elves to
my Memory. In the fir&s;t of his <HI>Aene|ad</HI>'s,
where he brings in <HI>Neptune</HI> &s;pea|king,
he gives him words with a Ca|dence
exalted, and &s;uiting well with
the Maje&s;ty of the Speaker.</P>
<Q><PB N="209" REF="134">
<L>Tantane vos tenuit generis fiducia
vestri?</L>
<L>Jam Caelum, terram&abque; meo &s;ine Nu|mine
venti</L>
<L>Mi&s;cere, &amp; tantas audetis tollere
Moles.</L></Q>
<P>Mark the pomp of the&s;e three fol|lowing
Ver&s;es wherewith he flatters
the Emperor.</P>
<Q><L>Na&s;cetur pulchra Trojanus Origine
Cae&s;ar,</L>
<L>Imperium Oceano, famam qui ter|minet
a&s;tris.</L></Q>
<P>No man can read his de&s;cription of
<HI>Polyphemus,</HI> that horrible and defor|med
Gyant, without impre&s;&s;ions of
horror and fear.</P>
<Q><L>Mon&s;trum, horrendum, informe, in|gens,
cui lumen ademptum.</L></Q>
<P>As al&s;o this following:</P>
<Q><L>Tela inter media, at&abque; horrentes
Marte Latinos.</L></Q>
<P>The Cadence of this Ver&s;e&mdash;<HI>Pro|cumbit
humi bos,</HI> imitates the fall of
that great Bea&s;t. This Ver&s;e, <HI>Qua|drupedante
putrem &s;onitu quatit ungu|la
campum,</HI> expre&s;&s;es the ardour and
fury of a high-metled Hor&s;e. Could
<PB N="210" REF="135">
Sadne&s;s be better expre&s;s'd than by
this &s;o often interrupted Cadence.</P>
<Q><L>O Pater, O hominum, divum&abque; aeter|nae
Pote&s;tas,</L>
<L>O lux Dardaniae, O &s;pes fidi&s;&s;ima
Teucrum,</L></Q>
<P>The following Ver&s;es are full of the
&s;orrow of a per&s;on in affliction for the
lo&s;s of his Friend,&mdash;<HI>Te amice requivi
Con&s;picere, &amp;c.</HI></P>
<Q>Implerunt rupes, flerunt Rhodopeiae
arces.</Q>
<P><HI>Diony&s;ius Halicarna&s;&s;aeus,</HI> a Writer
of the <HI>Roman</HI> Antiquities, and &s;everal
Treati&s;es of Rhetorick, &s;hows that <HI>Ho|mer</HI>
frequently u&s;ed that Connexion,
and cho&s;e his numbers proper to his
matter; he in&s;tances in &s;everal Ver|&s;es,
and reflects upon them with
great judgment and elegance. He tells
us, that in his Ver&s;e <HI>Homer</HI> had a way
of making his Vowels cla&s;h and inter|fer,
to &s;top the cour&s;e of our pronun|ciation.
To expre&s;s the length of the
time that <HI>Si&s;yphus</HI> imploy'd in his
labour, he u&s;es Syllables that have
their Stops and Notches, to &s;ignify
thereby the re&s;i&s;tance of every Stone,
<PB N="211" REF="135">
by rea&s;on of their own natural
weights, and their da&s;hing again&s;t e|very
other &s;tone: And in &s;hort, that
we might not think it meer chance
that his numbers an&s;wer'd to his mat|ter,
he &s;hows how the Cadence is
quite different from the next Ver&s;e,
where he de&s;cribes the fall of <HI>Si&s;y|phus</HI>
his Stone, how it tumbles from
the top to the bottom, after it had
been carryed up with &s;o much diffi|culty
and pain. The Cadence is ve|ry
&s;wift; and the words &s;eem to rowl
and tumble with the &s;ame precipitati|on
as the Stone.</P>
<P>It is not to be imagin'd that writing
of all &s;orts of things, it is nece&s;&s;ary
the &s;ounds of our words &s;hould be &s;o
expre&s;&s;ive. This exactne&s;s is not ne|ce&s;&s;ary
every where, but only where
our judgment is mo&s;t obvious, and
where our de&s;ign to work upon our
Auditors is greate&s;t. Be&s;ides, this
Cadence mu&s;t be natural; we mu&s;t
not &s;ubvert the Order of Nature,
tran&s;po&s;e words, retrench a good ex|pre&s;&s;ion,
in&s;ert an ill; to give a ju&s;t
Cadence to our Di&s;cour&s;e. How pre|cious
<PB N="212" REF="136">
&s;oever a Di&s;cour&s;e may be,
who&s;e numbers expre&s;s the things as
well as the words; yet great care is
to be taken that we do not prefer
that beauty to the more &s;olid ju&s;tne&s;s
of Argument, and greatne&s;s of
thought. Our mind cannot attend
two different things at one time, and
therefore it happens often that whil&s;t
we are bu&s;y in contenting our Sen&s;es,
we di&s;plea&s;e our Rea&s;on. Sen&s;e is the
Noble&s;t part of Di&s;cour&s;e, indeed it's
very &s;oul; and that Soul is it which
de&s;erves our principal care.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="4" TYPE="part">
<PB N="1" REF="136">
<HEAD>THE FOURTH PART
OF THE
Art of Speaking.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">We mu&s;t make choice of a Style &s;uitable
to the Matter of which we treat.
What Style is.</HEAD>
<P>WE have ob&s;erved that
Words do not give the
&s;ame Idea of things
that they &s;ignifie, and
that to make us under&s;tand the form
of our Thoughts, we ought to u&s;e a|mong
<PB N="2" REF="137">
our Terms &s;uch as repre&s;ent
their true lineaments, and their natu|ral
colours, that is to &s;ay, &s;uch as awa|ken
in the minds of other people, the
&s;ame Ideas, and the &s;ame Sentiments
as we have in ours. In this Fourth
part we &s;hall make it appear, that
according to the difference of the
matter, we mu&s;t make u&s;e of a pecu|liar
manner of Writing; and that as
every thing requires convenient
words, &s;o an entire &s;ubject requires a
&s;tyle that may be proportionable to it.
The Rules we have given for Elocuti|on,
regard no farther than (if we may
&s;o &s;ay) the members of Di&s;cour&s;e;
that of which we are now &s;peaking re|lates
to the whole body.</P>
<P><HI>Style,</HI> in its primitive &s;ignification,
is taken for a kind of Bodkin where|with
the Antients writ upon Bark, and
little Tables covered with Wax: To
&s;ay who is the Author of &s;uch a Wri|ting,
we &s;ay 'tis &s;uch a mans hand,
whereas the Antients &s;aid it was &s;uch
a mans Style. In proce&s;s of time, the
word <HI>Style</HI> came to be applyed only
to the manner of expre&s;&s;ing: When
<PB N="3" REF="137">
we &s;ay &s;uch a di&s;cour&s;e is <HI>Cicero</HI>'s
Style, we intend <HI>Cicero</HI> u&s;ed to ex|pre&s;s
him&s;elf in that manner. Before
I determine with what &s;tyle we are to
treat of &s;everal things that are the &s;ub|jects
of common Di&s;cour&s;e, what
ought to be the Style of an Orator, an
Hi&s;torian, or Poet, who would delight,
or in&s;truct; I thought it not imperti|nent
to enquire into the different Ex|pre&s;&s;ions
wherewith &s;everal Authors
expre&s;s them&s;elves in the &s;ame Lan|guage,
and who writing on the &s;ame
Subjects endeavour the &s;ame Stile.
Some are diffu&s;e, and though they
pretend to be &s;uccinct, half their words
may be retrenched without prejudice
to the &s;en&s;e: Others are dry, flat,
barren, and what Effort &s;oever they
may make to beautify and adorn
things, they leave them half-naked:
The Style of &s;ome is &s;trong; in others
it is weak and langui&s;hing; in &s;ome
it is rugged, in others it is &s;mooth: In
a word, as faces are different, &s;o are
the ways of Writing, and it is the
cau&s;e of this Difference of which we
are going to enquire.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<PB N="4" REF="138">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Qualities of the Style depend upon
the Qualities of the Imagination,
Memory, and Judgment of the Writer.</HEAD>
<P>WHen the outward Object
&s;trikes upon our Sen&s;e, the
motion it makes is communicated by
the Nerves to the very Centre of the
Brain, who&s;e &s;ub&s;tance being &s;oft, re|ceives
thereby certain prints and
impre&s;&s;ions: The Alliance or Con|nexion
betwixt the Mind and the Bo|dy,
is the cau&s;e that the Ideas of Cor|poral
things are annex'd to the&s;e
Prints; &s;o that when the Prints of
an Object, (for Example of the Sun)
are imprinted in the brain, the Idea
of the Sun pre&s;ents it &s;elf to the mind;
and as oft as the Idea of the
Sun is pre&s;ented to the Mind, the
Impre&s;&s;ions caus'd by the pre&s;ence
of the Sun, begin to open and dilate.
We may call tho&s;e Prints the Images
of the Objects. The power the Soul
has to form upon the Brain the Ima|ges
<PB N="5" REF="138">
of things that have been percei|v'd,
is called Imagination, which
word &s;ignifies both that power of the
Soul, and the Images that it forms.</P>
<P>The Qualities of a good Imaginati|on
are very nece&s;&s;ary to Well-&s;peak|ing;
for Di&s;cour&s;e is nothing but a
Copy of tho&s;e things of which we
are to &s;peak, form'd before by the
Soul. If the Original be confu&s;ed, the
Copy mu&s;t be &s;o al&s;o; if the Original
be not, the Copy cannot be like. The
form, the clearne&s;s, the good Order of
our Idea's, depend upon the clearne&s;s
and di&s;tinction of the Impre&s;&s;ions
which the Objects make upon our
Brain; &s;o that it cannot be doubted
but the Quality of the Style mu&s;t de|pend
upon the quality of the Imagi|nation.
The &s;ub&s;tance of the Brain
has not the &s;ame qualities in all heads,
and therefore we are not to wonder
if the ways of Speaking be different
in each Author.</P>
<P>Words read or heard leave their Im|pre&s;&s;ions
in the Brain, as well as other
Objects, &s;o as we commonly think of
Words and Things at the &s;ame time;
<PB N="6" REF="139">
the Impre&s;&s;ions of Words and Things
which have been opened in Company
at &s;everal times, are linked together
in &s;uch &s;ort that the Things repre&s;ent
them&s;elves to the mind with their
Names: when this falls out, we &s;ay
the Memory is happy, and its Felici|ty
con&s;i&s;ts only in the ea&s;ine&s;s where|with
the prints of words, and the
things to which they are linked, do
open them&s;elves at the &s;ame time;
that is to &s;ay, when the name of the
thing follows the thought we have of
it. When the Memory is unfaithful
in repre&s;enting the proper Terms of
the things committed to it, we cannot
&s;peak ju&s;tly; we are forced either to
&s;ay nothing, or make u&s;e of the fir&s;t
words that occur, though perhaps
they are not proper to expre&s;s what
we would &s;ay. Happy and ju&s;t Ex|pre&s;&s;ion
is the effect of good Memo|ry.</P>
<P>In &s;hort, it is manife&s;t the Quali|ties
of the Mind are the cau&s;e of the
Difference ob&s;erved among all Au|thors.
Di&s;cour&s;e is the Image of the
Mind; we &s;hew our Humours and In|clinations
<PB N="7" REF="139">
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 di|&s;tingui&s;hes
it from all others, though
all u&s;e the &s;ame Terms and Expre&s;&s;i|ons
in the &s;ame Language.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The advantage of a Good Imagination.</HEAD>
<P>A Good Imagination contributes
particularly to the clearne&s;s and
facility of Di&s;cour&s;e 'Tis ea&s;y to
&s;peak of things that we &s;ee, their pre|&s;ence
guides and regulates our Di&s;|cour&s;e;
but Imagination &s;upplies us
with things. A Man who&s;e Imagina|tion
is ea&s;y, repre&s;ents to him&s;elf
whatever he is to &s;ay: he &s;ees clear|ly
before the eyes of his mind; &s;o that
expre&s;&s;ing by his words, the things
as pre&s;ent to him, his Di&s;cour&s;e is
clear, and the things do range and
take their places of them&s;elves in his
Di&s;cour&s;e. In the Imagination there
are two things; the fir&s;t is Material,
the &s;econd Spiritual; the Material is
<PB N="8" REF="140">
the prints cau&s;ed by the impre&s;&s;ions
the Objects make upon the &s;en&s;e. The
Spiritual is the Perception or Know|ledg
the Soul has of the&s;e prints, and
the power we have to renew or open
them when once they are made. We
&s;hall enquire here only into the mate|rial
part. I cannot explain exactly
the&s;e prints without ingaging my &s;elf
in Philo&s;ophical Di&s;qui&s;itions remote
from my Subject: I &s;hall only &s;ay
the&s;e prints are made by the Animal
Spirits, which being the pure&s;t and
mo&s;t &s;ubtile part of the Blood, fly up
like a Vapour from the Heart to the
Brain: The&s;e Spirits are uncertain in
their cour&s;e. When a Nerve is &s;tretch|ed,
they follow its motion, and by
their Current they draw &s;everal Fi|gures
in the Brain, according as the
Nerves are differently &s;tretched or
contracted; but which way &s;oever
the&s;e Figures are made, it is plain, the
clearne&s;s of the Imagination depends
upon the temperament of the &s;ub|&s;tance
of the Brain, and the quality
of the Animal Spirits.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="9" REF="140">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Qualities of the Sub&s;tance of the
Brain, and the Animal Spirits, are
nece&s;&s;ary to make a good Imagina|tion.</HEAD>
<P>FIgures drawn upon the Surface of
the Water leave no prints, be|cau&s;e
they are immediatly filled up.
Figures ingrav'd upon Marble are &s;el|dom
perfect, becau&s;e the hardne&s;s of
the Matter gives too much re&s;i&s;tance
to the Chi&s;&s;el. This gives us to un|der&s;tand
that the &s;ub&s;tance of the
Brain ought to have certain Qualities,
without which it cannot receive ex|actly
the Images of &s;uch things as the
Soul imagines. If the Brain be too
moi&s;t, and the little Threads and Fi|bers
which compo&s;e it too feeble and
lax, they cannot retain the Foldings
and Impre&s;&s;ions given them by the A|nimal
Spirits, and by con&s;equence the
things drawn there are confu&s;ed, and
like tho&s;e we endeavour to draw up|on
<PB N="10" REF="141">
Mud: If the Brain be too dry,
and the Fibers too hard, 'tis impo&s;&s;i|ble
all the &s;trokes of the Objects
&s;hould leave their Impre&s;&s;ions, which
makes every thing &s;eem dry and mea|gre
to men of that Temper. I &s;peak
not of the other Qualities of the
Brain, of its heat or its coldne&s;s: when
it is hot, the Spirits move with more
ea&s;e; when it is cold, the Spirits are
&s;low and retarded in their cour&s;e, the
Imagination is dull, and nothing to be
imagined but with trouble.</P>
<P>The Animal Spirits ought to have
three qualities; they ought to be plen|tiful,
hot, and equal in their motion:
A brain who&s;e Animal Spirits are ex|hau&s;ted,
is empty of Images. Plenty of
Spirits makes the Imagination fruit|ful:
The prints drawn by the Spirits
in their cour&s;e being large, whil&s;t the
&s;ource that produces them is full, they
repre&s;ent all things ea&s;ily, and under
multitude of Figures which &s;upply us
amply with matter for di&s;cour&s;e; tho&s;e
who have not this Fertility &s;upply'd
to them by abundance of Spirits, are
commonly dry. Things imprinting
<PB N="11" REF="141">
them&s;elves but weakly upon their I|magination,
they appear little and
meagre, and dry; &s;o their Di&s;cour&s;e
expre&s;&s;ing nothing but what pa&s;&s;es in
their Imagination, is dry and meagre
and jejune. The fir&s;t are great Pra|ters;
they &s;peak nothing but Hyper|boles,
every thing appears great to
them: The others are low, mean, and
in&s;ipid in their di&s;cour&s;e. The Ima|gination
of the fir&s;t makes every thing
greater; the Imagination of the la&s;t
le&s;&s;ens them as much.</P>
<P>When there is heat enough, and the
Animal Spirits are warm, quick, and
in great quantity, the Tongue is not
&s;ufficiently nimble to expre&s;s all that
is repre&s;ented in the Imagination; for
be&s;ides that abundance (which is the
fir&s;t quality requi&s;ite to the Spirits)
forming the Images of things in their
full dimen&s;ions; the &s;econd Quality,
(which is heat) rendring the Animal
Spirits lively and quick, the Imagina|tion
is full in an in&s;tant of differing I|mages.
Tho&s;e who po&s;&s;e&s;s the&s;e two
Qualities, do immediatly without
thinking find more matter upon any
<PB N="12" REF="142">
&s;ubject propo&s;ed than others after
long Meditation. A cold Spirit can|not
move the Imagination without
helps. Experience tells us, that want
of Heat is a great Ob&s;truction to E|loquence:
In violent pa&s;&s;ion where
the Animal Spirits are extraordinarily
&s;tirred, the drye&s;t Tempered Men de|liver
them&s;elves with ea&s;e, the mo&s;t
barren want no words. And this Di|ver&s;ity
of Images in the Imagination,
cau&s;es a plea&s;ant variety of Figures
and Motions that follow tho&s;e of the
Imagination.</P>
<P>That the Imagination be clear and
unconfus'd, the motion of the Animal
Spirits ought to be equal. When their
cour&s;e is irregular, &s;ometimes &s;low, and
&s;ometimes &s;wift, the Images that they
imprint are without proportion; as in
&s;ick People, where the motion of the
whole Ma&s;s of Blood is irregular.
Tho&s;e who are Gay and of a Sanguine
Complexion, expre&s;s them&s;elves grace|fully
and readily. In tho&s;e Tempers
the Animal Spirits move quick and
equal, and their Imagination being
clear, their Di&s;cour&s;e being but a Co|py
<PB N="13" REF="142">
of the Images drawn in it, mu&s;t ne|ce&s;&s;arily
be clear and di&s;tinct.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Advantages of a good Memory.</HEAD>
<P>THe goodne&s;s of the Memory de|pends
upon Nature and Exer|ci&s;e,
&s;eeing it con&s;i&s;ts only in the ea&s;i|ne&s;s
wherewith the prints of received
Objects are renewed; by Con&s;equence
the Memory cannot be good, if the
&s;ub&s;tance of the Brain be not proper
to receive tho&s;e draughts, or prints of
things, and retain them; and when
tho&s;e prints (which cannot always be
expanded and open) do not open them|&s;elves
with ea&s;e. Exerci&s;e adds much
to the Memory; Things fold ea&s;ily
that way that they are often folded.
The Fibers of the Brain do harden
and grow &s;tiff, if that &s;tifne&s;s be
not prevented by frequent folding
them, that is to &s;ay, by often repea|ting
what we have learned already,
and continual endeavours to &s;uck in
<PB N="14" REF="143">
more. We mu&s;t fill our Memories
with proper terms, and contrive that
the Images of things and their names
be of &s;o &s;trict coherence, that the ima|ges
and expre&s;&s;ions may pre&s;ent them|&s;elves
together. An excellent Per&s;on
has re&s;embled the Memory to a Prin|ting-Pre&s;s;
a Printer who has none
but Gothick Characters, prints no|thing
but in Gothick Characters, let
the Treati&s;e be never &s;o good. The
&s;ame may be &s;aid of tho&s;e who&s;e Me|mories
are ful of nothing but improper
words; having nothing in their minds
but Gothick Molds, and their thoughts
clothing them&s;elves with Expre&s;&s;ions
from thence, no wonder if they always
a&s;&s;ume a Gothick aire and fa&s;hion.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="6" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>VI.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Qualities of the Mind nece&s;&s;ary to
make a Man Eloquent.</HEAD>
<P>WHat we have hitherto &s;ayd, re|lates
only to the Corporal
Organs: The qualities of the Mind
<PB N="15" REF="143">
are more con&s;iderable and important.
Rea&s;on mu&s;t regulate the advantages
of Nature, which are rather Defects
than advantages when we under&s;tand
not how to u&s;e them. He that has a
fertile Imagination, but knows not
how to cull and pick his Expre&s;&s;i|&s;ions,
loo&s;es him&s;elf, and runs out into
long and tedious Di&s;cour&s;es. Among
the multitude of things that he deli|vers,
half of them are improper; and
tho&s;e which are good, are &s;tifled and
incommoded by the&s;e that are imper|tinent.
If his Imagination be hot as
well as fertile, and he follows the mo|tion
of his heat, he falls into thou&s;ands
of other faults; his Di&s;cour&s;e is no|thing
but a continuation of Figures;
he &s;eldom &s;peaks without pa&s;&s;ion,
but for the mo&s;t part without rea&s;on.
Being ha&s;ty and hot, the lea&s;t thing ex|cites
him, and &s;ets him on fire; with|out
re&s;pect to Civility, without con&s;i|dering
the merits of the Cau&s;e, he fly's
out into a fury, and &s;uffers him&s;elf to
be hurried away by the <HI>impetus</HI> of his
Imagination, who&s;e irregularity and
extravagance is di&s;covered in his
words.</P>
<P><PB N="16" REF="144">
To enjoy the Soveraign Perfection
of Eloquence, the mind mu&s;t be ador|ned
with the&s;e three Qualities: Fir&s;t,
a capacity to di&s;cover abundantly all
that may be &s;aid upon any propo&s;ed
&s;ubject. A narrow Apprehen&s;ion is
incapable of giving things their ju&s;t
latitude and extent.</P>
<P>The &s;econd quality con&s;i&s;ts in a cer|tain
&s;agacious Vivacity, that &s;trikes
immediately into things, rummages
them to the bottom, and clean&s;es eve|ry
corner: tho&s;e who&s;e 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.</P>
<P>The Third quality is exactne&s;s of
Judgment, and that regulates both
the other qualities. A good Judgment
choo&s;es and picks, it &s;tops not at eve|ry
thing pre&s;ented by the Imaginati|on,
but di&s;cerns and di&s;criminates
betwixt what is fit to be &s;aid, and
what is fit to be pa&s;s'd: it dilates not
upon things according to the bigne&s;s
of their Images, but amplifies di&s;|cour&s;e,
or contracts it, as the thing and
<PB N="17" REF="144">
rea&s;on require; it relys not upon fir&s;t
Idea's, but judges whether things are
as great as they appear, and &s;elects
convenient expre&s;&s;ions according to
the light of Rea&s;on rather than the re|port
of Imagination, which like magni|fying
Gla&s;&s;es do many times repre&s;ent
things greater than they are: It &s;tops
the Idea's where they are too light; it
excites and chafes them when they
are cold: in a word, it u&s;es and im|proves
many advantages that Nature
has given it; it prevents Faults, and
endeavours to correct them.</P>
<P>The good Qualities of the Mind are
not always concomitant with the qua|lities
of a good Imagination, and hap|py
Memory; which cau&s;es a great
difference betwixt Speaking and Wri|ting
well. Oftentimes tho&s;e who
write well upon premeditation &s;peak
ill <HI>Ex tempore:</HI> To write well there
is no need of a prompt, hot, and fertil
Imagination. Unle&s;s our Wit be ve|ry
bad indeed, upon &s;erious Meditati|on
we &s;hall find what we ought, and
what we might &s;ay upon any &s;ubject
propo&s;ed; tho&s;e who &s;peak ea&s;ily and
<PB N="18" REF="145">
without premeditation, receive that
advantage from a certain fertility and
fire in their Imagination, which fire is
extingui&s;hed by repo&s;e and cold con|templation
in a Study.</P>
<P>The Qualities of the Mind are pre|ferable
to the qualities of the Body;
the Eloquence of tho&s;e endued with
the&s;e la&s;t Qualities is like a fla&s;h of
Gun-powder, gone in a moment; this
Eloquence makes a great noi&s;e, and
fla&s;hes for a time, but 'tis quickly
&s;pent and forgot. A Treati&s;e compos'd
with Judgment retains its Beauty,
and the oftner it is read, the more it
is admir'd. This is ob&s;erv'd by <HI>Ta|citus</HI>
in the Fourth Book of his <HI>An|nales,</HI>
where he &s;peaks of one <HI>Haleri|us</HI>
a Famous Orator whil&s;t he lived,
but when dead, his Writings were not
&s;o much admired; his Talent lay in
&s;peaking well <HI>Ex tempore,</HI> not in Wri|ting,
having more flame in his Ima|gination
than judgment in his Mind.
A work that is &s;olid and elaborate
(&s;ays <HI>Tacitus</HI> with reflection upon the
Eloquence of <HI>Halerius)</HI> lives, and is
e&s;teemed after the death of the Au|thor;
<PB N="19" REF="145">
whereas the &s;oftne&s;s and fla&s;hi|ne&s;s
of <HI>Halerius</HI> his Eloquence expi|pired
with him. <HI>Quintus Halerius,
Eloquentiae quoad vixit celebratae,
monimenta ingenii ejus haud perinde
retinentur. Scilicet impetu magis quam
cura vigebat: utque meditatio alio|rum
&amp; labor, in po&s;terum vale&s;cit, &s;ic
Halerii canorum illud, &amp; profluens,
cum ip&s;o &s;imul extinctum e&s;t.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="7" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>VII.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Diver&s;ity of Inclinations alter the
Styles: Every Climate, every Age,
hath its Style.</HEAD>
<P>DI&s;cour&s;e is the Character of the
Mind; our Humour de&s;cribes
it &s;elf in our words, and every man
incogitantly follows the &s;tyle to which
his di&s;po&s;ition naturally carries him&punc;
We know not only the Humor of a
man by his Style, but al&s;o his Coun|try:
Every Clymat hath its &s;tyle.
The <HI>A&s;iaticks</HI> who&s;e Imaginations
are warm and full of Images, &s;peak
<PB N="20" REF="146">
nothing but by Allegories, Similitudes,
and Metaphors; by which means
their Style is ob&s;cure to tho&s;e who&s;e
Imaginations are not &s;o lively and
prompt. The Northern people have
not that heat, and therefore &s;peak
more plain and intelligibly.</P>
<P>Antient Rhetoricians di&s;tingui&s;h in|to
three Forms the different Styles re|commended
to the people by their
different Inclinations. The fir&s;t form
is the <HI>A&s;iatick,</HI> high, pompous, and
magnificent. The people of <HI>A&s;ia</HI>
have been always ambitious, their
Di&s;cour&s;e expre&s;&s;es their Humor; they
are lovers of Luxury, and their words
are accompanied with &s;everal vain Or|naments,
that a &s;evere Humour cannot
approve. The &s;econd form of Style is
the <HI>Attick:</HI> the <HI>Athenians</HI> were
more regular in their Lives, and there|fore
were more exact and mode&s;t in
their Di&s;cour&s;e. The Third is the
<HI>Rhodian</HI> Stile; the <HI>Rhodians</HI> had a
touch of the Ambition and Luxury
of the <HI>A&s;iaticks,</HI> and the mode&s;ty of
the <HI>Athenians;</HI> their &s;tyle characte|rizes
their Humour, and keeps a <HI>medi|um</HI>
<PB N="21" REF="146">
betwixt the liberty of the <HI>A&s;ia|tick,</HI>
and the re&s;ervedne&s;s and retenti|on
of the <HI>Attick.</HI></P>
<P>Diver&s;ity of Styles proceeds again
from another Cau&s;e, that is to &s;ay, from
the precogitancy or pre-occupation
wherewith we &s;peak 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 <HI>a-la-mode</HI>
is followed by the whole world;
but as we change our Modes, and
tho&s;e who invented them, finding them
common, contrive new, to di&s;tingui&s;h
them&s;elves from the people, there is
a perpetual change, and every Age
has its peculiar Mode. A good Cri|tique
gue&s;&s;es the time when an Au|thor
writ, by ob&s;erving his way: The
Style of each Age gives us to under|&s;tand
the Inclinations of tho&s;e who
lived in that Age. Commonly the
Style is dry, rugged, without Orna|ment
in tho&s;e Ages where the people
were &s;erious and regular. Luxury
was introduced during the Licenti|ou&s;ne&s;s
of Governments, in Languages
as well as Habits, in Books as well
as Buildings.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="22" REF="147">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Matter of which we treat, ought
to determine us in the choice of our
S<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">yle.</HEAD>
<P>THe Matter is to direct in the ele|ction
of our Style. Noble Ex|pre&s;&s;ions
that render a Style Magnifi|cent;
great words that fill up the
mouth, repre&s;ent things great, and ar|gue
&s;trength of judgment in the per|&s;on
who &s;peaks in &s;o &s;ublime a way:
But if the matter it &s;elf be unworthy,
if it be great only in the Imagination
of the Author, his Magnificence turns
to his prejudice, and &s;hows the weak|ne&s;s
of his judgment, in putting a va|lue
upon that is only worthy of Con|tempt.
Figures, and Tropes, unknown
to the natural order of Di&s;cour&s;e, di&s;|cover
likewi&s;e the motion of the heart;
but that the&s;e Figures may be ju&s;t, the
<PB N="23" REF="147">
pa&s;&s;ion, of which they are the chara|cter,
ought to be rea&s;onable. There is
nothing comes nearer Folly, than to
be tran&s;ported without Cau&s;e; to put
ones &s;elf into a heat for a thing that
ought to be argued coolly; each Mo|tion
has its Figures: Figures may en|rich
and embelli&s;h a Style, but unle&s;s
the Motion that cau&s;es them be lau|dable,
the Figures cannot be worthy
of Commendation.</P>
<P>I &s;ay then, 'tis the Matter that re|gulates
the Style: When things are
great, and cannot be con&s;idered with|out
great Emotion, it is nece&s;&s;ary
that the Style which de&s;cribes them be
&s;prightly, full of motion, and inriched
with Figures, and Tropes, and Meta|phors.
If in the &s;ubject of which we
treat there be nothing extraordinary:
if we can con&s;ider it without pa&s;&s;ion;
the Style is to be plain. The Art of
Speaking having no peculiar matter,
every thing &s;ubject to our thoughts
being matter for Di&s;cour&s;e, there are
infinite diver&s;ity of Styles, as the &s;orts
of things of which we may &s;peak are
infinite: Yet the Ma&s;ters of that Art
<PB N="24" REF="148">
have reduced the peculiar matter for
Writing under three kinds; Sublime,
Mean, or Indifferent. There are three
Kinds of Styles an&s;werable to the&s;e
three Kinds of Matters; the Lofty, the
Plain, and the Moderate. Sometimes
the&s;e Styles are called Characters, be|cau&s;e
they denote the quality of the
matter that is the &s;ubject of the di&s;|cour&s;e.
I &s;hall in this Chapter hud|dle
together the Rules to be ob&s;erved
in each of the&s;e three Characters.
When a Work is undertaken, we al|ways
propo&s;e a general Idea; for ex|ample,
when an Orator makes a Pane|gyrick
upon &s;ome Prince, the de&s;ign
is to magnifie and illu&s;trate the acti|ons
of that <HI>Hero,</HI> to advance him to
&s;uch an Elevation of Glory, that he
may be looked upon as the mo&s;t ac|compli&s;hed
and mo&s;t venerable per&s;on
of his Sex. An Advocate pleading
the cau&s;e of a <HI>Pauper,</HI> will be conten|ted
if he per&s;wades his Auditory that
the per&s;on who&s;e defence he has un|dertaken
is a good man, an innocent
man, and one that behaves him&s;elf in
his &s;phear like a very good Citizen.
<PB N="25" REF="148">
That which I &s;hall &s;ay of the&s;e three
Characters, relates to our prudence
in carrying on our Work, &s;o as we ne|ver
&s;uffer the general Idea we have
propo&s;ed to our &s;elves to be out of
&s;ight.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Rules for the Lofty Style.</HEAD>
<P><HI>APelles</HI> being to draw the Picture
of his Friend <HI>Antigonus,</HI> who
had lo&s;t his left eye in the Wars, drew
him in <HI>Porfile</HI> with the half-face that
had no deformity. We mu&s;t imitate
this Artifice: Let the &s;ubject of
which we de&s;ign to give a lofty <HI>Idea,</HI>
be never &s;o Noble, its Noblene&s;s will
never be &s;een, unle&s;s we have the skill
to pre&s;ent it with the be&s;t of its faces:
the be&s;t of things have their imperfe|ctions;
and yet the lea&s;t new blemi&s;h
di&s;covered in what we valued before,
abates our e&s;teem, and perhaps extin|gui&s;hes
it quite. After we have &s;poke
a thou&s;and fine things, if among them
<PB N="26" REF="149">
all we &s;huffle in but one Expre&s;&s;ion
that is mean or impertinent, &s;ome
people (and tho&s;e Wits) are &s;o ill-natu|red
as to regard nothing but that im|pertinence,
and to forget the re&s;t. We
mu&s;t likewi&s;e be careful not to &s;ay a|ny
thing in one place that may con|tradict
or interfere with what we
have &s;ayd in another. We have an
Example of this Fault in <HI>He&s;iod,</HI> who
in his Poem called the <HI>Buckler,</HI> &s;pea|king
of <HI>Pro&s;erpine,</HI> &s;ays that &s;he had
<HI>a filthy humour running at her No&s;e:
Longinus</HI> ob&s;erves well, that <HI>He&s;iod's</HI>
de&s;ign being to make her terrible, this
Expre&s;&s;ion did not &s;uit, but made her
rather odious and contemptible.</P>
<P>We are likewi&s;e to imitate the ad|dre&s;s
of another Painter no le&s;s fa|mous
than <HI>Apelles,</HI> and that is <HI>Zeux|is,</HI>
who being to repre&s;ent <HI>Helen</HI> as
fair in colours as the Greek Poets
had done in their Ver&s;e, 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 di&s;tributed in a great number of
hand&s;ome Women. When a Poet is
<PB N="27" REF="149">
Ma&s;ter of his Subject, and can in|large
or retrench as he plea&s;es; if he
de&s;igns a de&s;cription (as for example
of a Tempe&s;t) he is &s;eriou&s;ly to con&s;i|der
what happens in a Tempe&s;t, and to
examine all the Circum&s;tances that
he may &s;elect and make u&s;e of what
he thinks mo&s;t extraordinary and &s;ur|prizing.</P>
<Q><L>Comme l' on voit les flots &s;oulevez par
l' Orage,</L>
<L>Fondre &s;ur un vai&s;&s;eau qui s' oppo&s;e a
leur rage,</L>
<L>Le vent avec fureur dans les voiles
fremit,</L>
<L>Le mer blanchit d' ecume, &amp; l' air
auloin gemit:</L>
<L>Le matelot trouble, que &s;on art aban|donne,</L>
<L>Croit voir dans chaque flot, la mort
qui l' environne.</L></Q>
<Q><L>As when by Storm inrag'd, the Sea
does beat,</L>
<L>And da&s;h 'gain&s;t th' Ve&s;&s;el that re&s;i&s;ts
its heat,</L>
<L><PB N="28" REF="150">
The Wind begets a trembling in the
Sails,</L>
<L>The Sea grows white with foam, the
Ayr rails;</L>
<L>The Sea-man troubled, his Art lo&s;t,
each Wave</L>
<L>That tumbles next, he looks will be
his Grave.</L></Q>
<P>Our Expre&s;&s;ions ought to be No|ble,
and able to give that lofty Idea
which we de&s;ign as the end of what we
&s;ay. Though the matter be not equal
in all its parts, yet we are to ob&s;erve
a certain Uniformity in our Style. In
a Palace there are appartments for
Inferior Officers, as well as tho&s;e who
are near the King; there are rooms of
State, and there are Stables: the Sta|bles
are not built with the Magnifi|cence
of the rooms of State, and yet
there is a &s;uitablene&s;s and proportion
betwixt them, and every part &s;hows
its relation to the whole. In a lofty
Style, though the Expre&s;&s;ions ought to
corre&s;pond with the matter, yet we
mu&s;t &s;peak of indifferent things with
an Ayre above their condition, becau&s;e
<PB N="29" REF="150">
our de&s;ign being to give a high Idea
of the thing, 'tis fit all that depend
upon it &s;hould wear its Livery, and do
it honour. An ambitious vain Wri|ter,
to &s;how the magnificence of his
Style in all that he writes, foi&s;ts in
great and prodigious things, not con&s;i|dering
whether the invention of his
Prodigies be con&s;i&s;tent with rea&s;on:
The <HI>Greeks</HI> call this vanity, <GAP DESC="foreign">.
<HI>Florus</HI> in his Abridgment of the
<HI>Roman</HI> Hi&s;tory, furni&s;hes us with a
con&s;iderable example of this <HI>Teratolo|gie.</HI>
His bu&s;ine&s;s was to have told
us, as <HI>Sextus Rufus</HI> has done, <HI>That
the Roman Empire was extended as
far as the Sea, by the Conque&s;t which
Decimus Brutus made of Spaine.
Hi&s;panias per decimum Brutum obti|nuimus,
&amp; u&s;que ad Gades &amp; Oceanum
pervenimus. Florus</HI> goes higher, and
tells us, <HI>Decimus Brutus aliquanto
latius Gallaecos, atque omnes Gallae|ciae
populos, formidatum&abque; militibus
flumen oblivionis, peregratoque victor
Oceani littore, non prius &s;igna con|vertit,
quam cadentem in Maria
&s;olem, obrutumque aquis ignem, non
<PB N="30" REF="151">
&s;ine quodam Sacrilegii metu &amp; horro|re
deprehendit,</HI> &s;tuffing up his Nar|ration
with Prodigies. He fancies
that the <HI>Romans</HI> having carryed their
Conque&s;ts to the farthe&s;t parts of
<HI>Spaine,</HI> trembled at the &s;ight of the
Sea; as if they had thought them|&s;elves
criminal for beholding with
pre&s;umptuous eyes the Sun when it
was &s;etting, and as it were quenching
its flames in the waters of the Oce|an.</P>
<P>This Fault is called <HI>Inflation,</HI> be|cau&s;e
the manner of &s;peaking things
in &s;o incongruous and extravagant
a way, is like the fal&s;e corpulency of
a dropical Man, who appears fat and
in good-liking, when he is only puf|fed
up with Water and Wind. This
&s;ublime Character is hard to attain;
'tis not every one can rai&s;e him&s;elf a|bove
the common pitch, at lea&s;t con|tinue
his flight: It is ea&s;y to fly out
into great expre&s;&s;ions, but then if
tho&s;e great Expre&s;&s;ions be not &s;u&s;tai|ned
by greatne&s;s of matter, and replete
with &s;olid and &s;erious things, they are
but like Stilts that &s;how the &s;malne&s;s
<PB N="31" REF="151">
and defect of the Party at the &s;ame
time they exalt him.</P>
<P>By the Engine of a Phra&s;e we may
hoi&s;t up a trifle, and place it very
high, but it quickly relap&s;es, and by
its elevation is expo&s;ed to their eyes,
who perhaps would never have con&s;i|dered
it, had it remained in its pri|mitive
ob&s;curity. This vanity of ma|king
every thing we mention &s;eem
great, of cloathing our di&s;cour&s;e in
Magnificent Language, makes it &s;u&s;pi|cious
to per&s;ons of judgment, that
the Author has a mind to conceal the
meanne&s;s of his thoughts under the
vain preten&s;ion of Grandeur. And
<HI>Quintilian</HI> tells us, there are others
who by the creeping humility of their
Style affect to he thought Copious and
Lofty.</P>
<P><HI>Little People to &s;hew them&s;elves
with advantage, delight to &s;tand on
tip-toe; tho&s;e who write mo&s;t weak|ly,
u&s;e mo&s;t Rhodomontades. This in|flation
of Style, this affectation of
Words that make a noi&s;e, are rather
Arguments of Weakne&s;s than force.</HI>
Quo qui&s;que ingenio minus valet, hoc
<PB N="32" REF="152">
&s;e magis attollere &amp; dilatare conatur;
&amp; &s;tatura breves in digitos erigun|tur,
&amp; plura infirmi minantur; nam
&amp; tumidos, &amp; corruptos, &amp; tinnulos, &amp;
quocunque alio Cacozeliae genere pec|cantes,
certum habeo, non virium &s;ed
infirmitatis vitio laborare.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of a plain &s;imple Style.</HEAD>
<P>THe Simple and Plain Character
has its difficulties: 'tis true the
choice of things is not &s;o diffi|cult,
becau&s;e they ought to be
common and ordinary: But the
plain character is difficult, be|cau&s;e
the greatne&s;s of things dazles
and conceals the faults of a Writer.
When we &s;peak of things rare and ex|traordinary,
we make u&s;e of Meta|phors,
cu&s;tom not affording us expre&s;|&s;ions
of &s;ufficient &s;trength. Di&s;cour&s;e
may be inriched with figures; becau&s;e
we &s;eldom hear of great things with|out
&s;entiments of admiration, love,
<PB N="33" REF="152">
hatred, fear, or hope. On the contra|ry,
when common and ordinary things
are to be mention'd, we are con&s;trai|ned
to imploy proper and ordinary
Terms. We have not liberty to u&s;e
Figures in our Di&s;cour&s;e, which cannot
be forborn without difficulty: For, in
a word, tho&s;e who are Writers cannot
be ignorant that the liberty of u&s;ing
Figures &s;aves them the labour of &s;tu|dying
for proper words, which are
not always at hand, and that it is ea|&s;ier
to &s;peak by Figures than to &s;peak
Naturally&punc;</P>
<P>When I called this Character &s;im|ple,
I intended not to &s;ignify by that
Epithete, meane&s;s of expre&s;&s;ion, that is
never good, and always to be avoided.
The matter of this Style has no eleva|tion;
and yet it ought not to be vile
and contemptible. It requires not the
pomps and ornaments of Eloquence,
nor to be dre&s;s'd up in magnificent
Habits: But yet it abhors an abject
way of Expre&s;&s;ion, and requires that
its habits be cleanly and neat.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="34" REF="153">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the Middle Style.</HEAD>
<P>I Shall &s;ay little of this middle Cha|racter,
becau&s;e it is &s;ufficient to
know that it con&s;i&s;ts in a Mediocrity
that ought to participate of the gran|deur
of the &s;ublime Character, and of
the &s;implicity of the plain Character.
<HI>Virgil</HI> has given us examples of all
the&s;e three Characters; his <HI>Aenead's</HI>
are in the &s;ublime Character, where
he &s;peaks of nothing but Combats,
Sieges, Wars, Princes, and <HI>Hero's:</HI> In
them all is magnificent, both &s;enti|ments
and words. The grandeur of
his Expre&s;&s;ion is &s;uitable to the gran|deur
of the Subject: Every thing in
that Poem is extraordinary; he u&s;es
no terms profan'd by the cu&s;tom of the
Populace. When he is obliged to name
common things, he does it by &s;ome
Trope, or Circumlocution. For exam|ple,
when he &s;peaks of <HI>Bread,</HI> he ex|pre&s;&s;es
it by <HI>Ceres,</HI> who among the
<PB N="35" REF="153">
Pagans was the Godde&s;s of Corn. The
Character of his <HI>Eclogues</HI> is &s;imple.
They are Shepheards who &s;peak and
entertain them&s;elves with Love, with
Dialogues of their Sheep, and their
Fields, after a plain &s;imple manner
&s;uitable to the di&s;cou&s;es of Shep|heards.</P>
<P>His <HI>Georgicks</HI> are of the middle
Character: The matter of which they
treat is not &s;o &s;ublime as the matter
of his <HI>Aenead's,</HI> he &s;peaks not there of
Wars and Combats, and the e&s;tabli&s;h|ment
of the <HI>Roman</HI> Empire, which are
the &s;ubject of his <HI>Aenead's;</HI> nor are
his <HI>Georgicks</HI> &s;o plain and &s;imple as
his <HI>Eclogues.</HI> In his <HI>Georgicks</HI> he
&s;earches into the mo&s;t occult and re|mote
Cau&s;es of Nature. He di&s;covers
the my&s;teries of the <HI>Roman</HI> Religion;
he mingles them with Philo&s;ophy,
Theology, and Hi&s;tory, ob&s;erving a
Medium betwixt the Maje&s;ty of his
<HI>Aenead's,</HI> and the &s;implicity of his
<HI>Bucolicks.</HI></P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="36" REF="154">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Styles proper to certain Matters;
and qualities common to all Styles.</HEAD>
<P>WE are now &s;peaking of parti|cular
Styles, peculiar to cer|tain
matters, as the Styles of Poets,
Orators, and Hi&s;torians: But it is
not ami&s;s to premi&s;e certain Ob&s;erva|tions
relating to the Qualities that are
common to all Styles. Among tho&s;e
who u&s;e the &s;ame Style, &s;ome are &s;oft,
others more &s;trong: Some are gay, o|thers
more &s;evere. I &s;hall &s;how in
what the&s;e Qualities con&s;i&s;t, and how
they may be attributed to a Style,
when they are convenient to the qua|lity
of the &s;ubject.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t of the&s;e Qualities is ea&s;i|ne&s;s:
a Style is &s;aid to be ea&s;y when
things are delivered with &s;uch clear|ne&s;s
and per&s;picuity, that the mind
<PB N="37" REF="154">
is put to no trouble to conceive them.
Thus we &s;ay the declen&s;ion of a
Mountain is ea&s;y, when it is not hard
to a&s;cend. To give this ea&s;ine&s;s to a
Style, we mu&s;t leave nothing to the
Reader's determination; we mu&s;t pre|vent
all doubts, and remove every
thing that may perplex it. In a word,
we mu&s;t deliver things in their nece&s;|&s;ary
latitude and extent, that they may
be ea&s;ily comprehended; for &s;mall
things are not &s;o vi&s;ible to the eye. I
have &s;aid in the precedent Book how
cadence is to be &s;weetned, and pronun|ciation
in di&s;cour&s;e. The ea&s;ine&s;s of
the number contributes &s;trangely to
the ea&s;ine&s;s of the Style. This ea&s;ine&s;s
may have &s;everal degrees: The Style
of an Author that writes with extra|ordinary
ea&s;e, is &s;ayd to be tender and
delicate. I will not forget in this place
that there is nothing contributes more
to the &s;oftne&s;s and ea&s;ine&s;s of a Style,
than the careful in&s;erting in their due
places all the Particulars nece&s;&s;ary to
make the con&s;equence and connexion
of the parts of di&s;cour&s;e perceptible
and plain.</P>
<P><PB N="38" REF="155">
The &s;econd Quality is <HI>Strength,</HI>
and it is directly oppo&s;ite to the fir&s;t;
it &s;trikes the mind boldly, and forces
attention. To render a Style &s;trong,
we mu&s;t u&s;e &s;hort expre&s;&s;ions that &s;ig|nify
much, and excite many <HI>Idea's.</HI>
The Greek and Latin Authors are full
of the&s;e &s;trong expre&s;&s;ions: They are
more rare among the <HI>French,</HI> who
choo&s;e rather to have their Di&s;cour&s;e
natural, free, and with &s;ome kind of
diffu&s;ion; for which rea&s;on we are not
to wonder that the <HI>French</HI> in their
Tran&s;lations of Greek and Latine Au|thors
are more copious and verbo&s;e
than the Originals, becau&s;e they have
not tho&s;e &s;hort and compact Expre&s;&s;i|ons;
the <HI>Genius</HI> of our Language
choo&s;ing rather to explain and di&s;-in|tangle
tho&s;e <HI>Idea's</HI> which the Greek
and Latin words leave ab&s;tru&s;e and
involved. St. <HI>Paul</HI> expre&s;&s;ing his
readine&s;s to dye, &s;ays very nobly in
Greek <GAP DESC="foreign">. The La|tine
Tran&s;lation renders it, <HI>Ego
enim jam delibor.</HI> To turn it into
<HI>French,</HI> it mu&s;t be done thus, <HI>Lar
pour may, je &s;uis comme une victime
<PB N="39" REF="155">
qui a deja recu l'a&s;per&s;ion pour etre
&s;acrifice. For I am as a victim that has
already received a&s;per&s;ion to be &s;acri|fic'd.</HI>
All the&s;e words do but explain
the <HI>Idea's</HI> given by the word <GAP DESC="foreign">,
when we con&s;ider its force with
nece&s;&s;ary attention.</P>
<P>The Third quality renders a Style
plea&s;ant and florid. This Quality de|pends
in part upon the fir&s;t, and ought
to be preceded by it; for the mind is
not plea&s;ed with too &s;trong an inten|tion.
Tropes and figures are the flow|ers
of a Style; Tropes give a &s;en&s;ible
conception of the mo&s;t ab&s;tracted
thoughts; they are plea&s;ant delinea|tions
of what we de&s;ire to &s;ignifie.
Figures awaken our attention, they
warm and animate the Reader, which
is plea&s;ant: Motion is the principle
of Life, and of Plea&s;ure; coldne&s;s mor|tifies
every thing. The la&s;t Quality
is &s;evere, it retrenches whatever is not
ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary; it allows no|thing
to plea&s;ure; it admits of no Or|nament
nor decoration, and like an
old <HI>Arepagit,</HI> rejects in Di&s;cour&s;e e|very
thing that is &s;prightly; it bani|&s;hes
<PB N="40" REF="156">
all things capable of intenerating
the heart.</P>
<P>We are to endeavour that our Style
have &s;uch qualities as are proper to
the &s;ubject of which we treat. <HI>Vitru|vius</HI>
that excellent Architect, who
lived under <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> ob&s;erves, that in
the &s;tructure of Temples they follow|ed
that order that expre&s;&s;ed the cha|racter
of the Deity to whom the Tem|ple
was dedicated. The <HI>Dorick,</HI> that
is the mo&s;t &s;olid and plain order, was
u&s;ed in the Temple of <HI>Mars, Miner|va,</HI>
and <HI>Hercules.</HI> The Temples of
<HI>Venus, Flora, Pro&s;erpina,</HI> and the
Nymphs, were built according to the
<HI>Corinthian</HI> Order, which is &s;prucer
and delicater, adorned with Garlands
and Flowers, and all the Ornaments
of Architecture. The <HI>Jonick</HI> was con|&s;ecrated
to <HI>Diana, Juno,</HI> and other
Deities, of who&s;e Humor the rules of
that Order gave a character, obliging
the Builders to a Medium betwixt the
&s;olidity of the <HI>Dorick,</HI> and the Spruce|ne&s;s
of the <HI>Corinthian</HI> Order. It is the
&s;ame in Di&s;cour&s;e: The Flowers and
Ornaments of Rhetorick are not pro|per
<PB N="41" REF="156">
for grave and maje&s;tick Subjects.
Au&s;terity of &s;tyle is unplea&s;ing, when
the matter is fitter for mirth.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Wbat ought to be the Style of an
Orator.</HEAD>
<P>THo&s;e who have writ hitherto of
the <HI>Art of Speaking,</HI> &s;eem to have
intended their Rules only for Ora|tors.
Their precepts relate only to the
Style of an Orator; and tho&s;e who &s;tu|dy
that Art, do look upon the copi|ou&s;ne&s;s
and richne&s;s of Expre&s;&s;ion &s;o
much admired in the Di&s;cour&s;es of
great Orators, as the chief and only
Fruit of their Studies. 'Tis true, Elo|quence
appears more illu&s;trious in
that Style, which obliges me to give
it the fir&s;t place.</P>
<P>Orations commonly are to clear up
&s;ome ob&s;cure and controverted truth;
and therefore they require a diffu&s;e
Style, becau&s;e in tho&s;e ca&s;es it is nece&s;|&s;ary
to di&s;&s;ipate all the clouds and ob|&s;curities
<PB N="42" REF="157">
that obfu&s;cate the truth; tho&s;e
who hear an Orator &s;peak, are not &s;o
much concerned as he in the cau&s;e he
defends: They are not always atten|tive,
or their apprehen&s;ion not being
&s;o quick, they conceive things with
more trouble; &s;o that an Orator is
bound to repeat the &s;ame thing &s;eve|ral
wayes, that if the fir&s;t be defective,
the &s;econd or third may &s;upply.</P>
<P>But this copiou&s;ne&s;s con&s;i&s;ts not in
multitude of Epithetes, Words, and
Expre&s;&s;ions entirely &s;ynonimous. To
evince a truth; to make it compre|hen&s;ible
to the dulle&s;t and mo&s;t di|&s;tracted
Wits, we mu&s;t pre&s;ent it un|der
&s;everal different A&s;pects, with this
Order, that the la&s;t Expre&s;&s;ions be al|ways
more forcible than the fir&s;t, and
add &s;omething to our Di&s;cour&s;e, in
&s;uch manner that without being tedi|ous,
we render that &s;en&s;ible and plain
which we de&s;ire to inculcate. A skil|ful
man accommodates to the capacity
of his Auditors; he keeps clo&s;e to his
a&s;&s;ertion, and quits it not till he has
imprinted and fixed it in the mind of
his Hearers.</P>
<P><PB N="43" REF="157">
Verities in Pleadings and Orations
are not of the &s;ame nature with Ma|thematical
truths. Mathematical
Truths depend only on a few, and
tho&s;e infallible principles. The other
truths depend upon multitudes of cir|cum&s;tances,
that &s;eparated &s;ignifie no|thing,
and are of no conviction but
when they are joyn'd and united. They
are not to be ama&s;s'd but by art, and
in this it is that the &s;ubtilty of an O|rator
appears. They husband the lea&s;t
circum&s;tance, and lay the &s;tre&s;s of their
argument upon little particularities,
that perhaps another would have re|jected
with di&s;dain. Upon this &s;core
<HI>Cicero</HI> &s;wells his Orations with cir|cum&s;tances
that &s;eem u&s;ele&s;s and
mean. Why does he tell us of <HI>Mi|lo's</HI>
changing his &s;hooes, of his put|ting
on his Riding cloaths, of his de|parting
late, and waiting for his Wife
who was more tedious in her Dre&s;s
according to the cu&s;tom of Women.
It is, that the &s;implicity and life of the
picture which he would &s;et before
our eyes, without omi&s;&s;ion of the lea&s;t
&s;troke or circum&s;tance of the action,
<PB N="44" REF="158">
might per&s;wade the Judges that there
was nothing vi&s;ible in the conduct of
<HI>Milo,</HI> that could make him rea&s;onably
&s;u&s;pected of meditating the murder of
<HI>Clodius,</HI> as <HI>Milo's</HI> Enemies pretended.</P>
<P>Great Orators make u&s;e only of
&s;uch expre&s;&s;ions as put a value upon
their arguments. They endeavour to
dazle the eyes of the Under&s;tanding,
and to that end fight with none but
glittering arms. Cu&s;tom not &s;upply|ing
them always with words proper
to expre&s;s their judgment of things,
and to make them appear in their
genuine grandeur, they betake them|&s;elves
to Tropes which are u&s;eful to
give what Colour they de&s;ire to an a|ction;
to make it appear greater, or
le&s;s, laudable or contemptible, ju&s;t
or unju&s;t, as the Metaphors they im|ploy
are capable of exalting or deba|&s;ing
them. But they do often abu&s;e
this art, and make them&s;elves ridicu|lous.
We have no ju&s;t right to di&s;|gui&s;e
an action, to habit it as we
plea&s;e; to call a Venial fault a Crime,
or a Crime an excu&s;able fault. Crimes
and faults give two different Idea's:
<PB N="45" REF="158">
If we do not u&s;e the&s;e terms with ex|actne&s;s,
it implies want of Judgment,
or want of Faith. A &s;ober hearer re|&s;pects
principally the thing, and be|fore
he &s;uffers him&s;elf to be per&s;waded
by words, he examines whether they
be ju&s;t. I cannot but admire tho&s;e O|rators
who fancy they have utterly
overthrown their adver&s;aries, when
they have but droll'd upon their Ar|guments;
they think they have clear|ly
refuted them, when they have only
loaded them with Injuries, turned
their Rea&s;ons into <HI>Ridicule,</HI> and &s;pent
all the Figures of their Art to repre|&s;ent
them as contemptible as they de|&s;ire.</P>
<P>We cannot defend a Truth well, if
we do not intere&s;t our &s;elves &s;eriou&s;ly
in its defence. That di&s;cour&s;e is faint
and ineffectual that proceeds not
from a heart zealou&s;ly di&s;po&s;ed to con|tend
for the truth when it has under|taken
its protection. We have &s;hown
in our Second Book that as Nature
puts the members of the Body into
po&s;tures proper for defence, or in&s;ult,
in a &s;ingle Duel; &s;o the &s;ame Nature
<PB N="46" REF="159">
prompts us to Figures in our Di&s;|cour&s;e,
and that we give them &s;uch
touches and circum&s;tances as may ju|&s;tifie
the controverted truth, and re|fute
all that is brought in oppo&s;ition.
Thus we &s;ee there is nothing &s;o arti|ficial
as the Harangue of an Orator,
who e&s;pou&s;es the Sentiments, and
drives at nothing but the Intere&s;t of
the per&s;on for whom he pleads.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What ought to be the Style of an Hi|storian.</HEAD>
<P>NExt to <HI>Oratory,</HI> there is no oc|ca&s;ion
where Eloquence ap|pears
with more advantage, than in
Hi&s;tory: and indeed it is the proper|e&s;t
bu&s;ine&s;s of an Orator to write Hi|&s;tory.
<HI>Cicero</HI> tells us, <HI>Hi&s;toria, opus
est maxime Oratorium.</HI> By his mouth
the actions of Great Men ought to
be publi&s;hed; by his Pen their Memo|ry
ought to be tran&s;mitted to Po&s;te|rity.
The chief qualities of an Hi|&s;torical
<PB N="47" REF="159">
Style are clearne&s;s and brevi|ty.
An Eloquent Hi&s;torian relates
not only the action, but every con&s;i|derable
circum&s;tance. An in&s;ipid man
gives us only the Carca&s;s, and delivers
things but by halfs; his relation is
dry and jejune. When we tell of a
Fight, and Victory that en&s;ued, 'tis
not like a Hi&s;torian to &s;ay barely they
Fought: we mu&s;t tell the occa&s;ion of
the War; how it was begun, upon
what de&s;ign; 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 Hi&s;tory, like a Gla&s;s, is to repre|&s;ent
the Object &s;imply as it is, with|out
magnificence or diminution.</P>
<P>Brevity contributes to per&s;picu|ity:
I &s;peak not of that brevity which
con&s;i&s;ts in things; in the choice of
what we are to &s;ay, or what we are to
omit. The Style of an Hi&s;torian ought
to be clo&s;e and compact, free from
long phra&s;es, and periods that hold
the mind in &s;u&s;pen&s;e; it mu&s;t be equal,
not interrupted with numerous Fi|gures,
partiality, or pa&s;&s;ion, all im|proper
<PB N="48" REF="160">
for an Hi&s;torian: Not but
that an Hi&s;torian that is a good Ora|tor
may make u&s;e of his Eloquence;
he mu&s;t relate what is &s;ayd, as well as
what is done: Speeches are Orna|ments
to a Hi&s;tory, in which Figures
are nece&s;&s;ary to de&s;cribe the zeal and
pa&s;&s;ion of the Agents.</P>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What ought to be the Style of a Dogma|tical
A&s;&s;ertion.</HEAD>
<P>THe zeal we &s;how in the defence
of a Controverted truth, &s;ets our
thoughts on work, makes us look a|bout
every way for Arms, and make
u&s;e of all the Forces of Rhetorick to
triumph upon our adver&s;ary. In Dog|matical
points, where our Auditors
are docible, and receive all as Ora|cles
that we &s;ay, we have no occa&s;ion
for that zeal and fervour: Particular|ly
in Geometry, the Po&s;itions are cer|tain
and evident; to propo&s;e them is
&s;ufficient, without Rhetorical Illu&s;tra|tion.
<PB N="49" REF="160">
It is not there as in the Law
where the knowledg of truth is
plea&s;ing to one, and di&s;plea&s;ing to a|nother,
inriches the one, and impove|ri&s;hes
the other. Who is he that will
trouble him&s;elf to conte&s;t or defend a
Propo&s;ition in Geometry? the Geo|metrician
demon&s;trates that the three
angles of a Triangle are equal to two
right Angles: Whether this be true
or fal&s;e is indifferent, and no man will
concern him&s;elf; for this Rea&s;on the
Style of a Geometrician ought to be
plain and naked, and free from tho&s;e
Ornaments that Pa&s;&s;ion in&s;pires into
an Orator. Be&s;ides, the clearer and
more evident a truth is, the more are
we di&s;po&s;ed to expre&s;s it in that man|ner.</P>
<P>When we treat of Natural or Mo|ral
Philo&s;ophy, our Style is not to be
&s;o dry and barren, as when we write
of Geometry; the truths di&s;covered
in them depend not always upon &s;uch
&s;imple principles. A man that applys
him&s;elf eagerly to the &s;olution of a
Probleme in Geometry; to find out
the Equation of <HI>Algebra,</HI> is &s;trict and
<PB N="50" REF="161">
au&s;tere, and cannot endure words in|troduc'd
only for Ornament. Natural
and Moral Philo&s;ophy are not &s;o knot|ty
as to put the Reader into an ill hu|mor
by &s;tudying them, and therefore
the Style of tho&s;e Sciences needs not
be &s;o &s;evere. The truths di&s;covered
in prophane Sciences are barren, and
of little importance. Pa&s;&s;ions are not
ju&s;t and rea&s;onable, but when they
provoke the mind to the di&s;covery
of &s;ome &s;olid good, or the avoiding of
&s;ome real evil: it is therefore a ridi|culous
thing to expre&s;s pa&s;&s;ion in the
defence of an indifferent thing; to
fly out into Tran&s;portations, and Rap|tures,
and Figures, that di&s;cretion
would re&s;erve for more con&s;iderable
occa&s;ions. I have not patience to &s;ee
a man furious in defending the Repu|tation
of <HI>Aristotle;</HI> to hear a man
rail again&s;t another for not having &s;o
profound a Reverence for <HI>Cicero</HI> as
him&s;elf; to exclaim and fall to work
with his Figures again&s;t a poor Man
that is perhaps mi&s;taken in the de|&s;cription
of the <HI>Roman</HI> or <HI>Greek</HI> Ha|bits:
And if you will have the truth,
<PB N="51" REF="161">
it is with little le&s;s aver&s;ion that I read
the Works of &s;ome Divines, who han|dle
the fundamental verities of our
Religion as drily and &s;lightly as if
they were of no importance at all. It
is a kind of Irreligion to be pre&s;ent at
Divine Service, without &s;ome outward
expre&s;&s;ion of love, re&s;pect, and vene|ration;
we cannot communicate in
an irreverent po&s;ture without &s;in.
Tho&s;e who profe&s;s Divinity, and
would in&s;truct others, mu&s;t as much
as in them lies imitate their great
Ma&s;ter Chri&s;t Je&s;us, who convinc'd
the under&s;tanding, wrought upon the
will, and inflam'd the heart of his
Di&s;ciples whil&s;t he taught them. It
was this divine fire that he kindled
in their minds, that the Di&s;ciples ac|knowledged,
<HI>Nonne cor erat ardens
in nobis, dum nobi&s;cum loqueretur in
via?</HI> With what coldne&s;s do the grea|te&s;t
Devots read the Writings of our
Scholia&s;ts? there is nothing in them
that corre&s;ponds to the Maje&s;ty of
their Matter: Their arguments are
low and flat, and &s;ufficient to depre|ciat
the authority of the mo&s;t authen|tick
<PB N="52" REF="162">
truths. Their expre&s;&s;ions are rep|tile,
their Style mean, without efficacy
or vigoun. The holy Scripture is ma|je&s;tick:
The Writings of the Fathers
are full of love and zeal for tho&s;e
truths that they teach. When the
heart is on fire, the words that come
from it mu&s;t of nece&s;&s;ity be ardent.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">[What ought to be the Style of a Poet.</HEAD>
<P>A Poet is unconfin'd, we give him
what liberty he plea&s;es, and do
not pin him up to the Laws of Cu|&s;tom:
This liberty is ea&s;ily ju&s;tified.
Poets are de&s;irous to delight and &s;ur|prize
us by things that are great, won|derful,
extraordinary: they cannot
arrive at their de&s;igned end, unle&s;s
they maintain the grandeur of things
by the grandeur of words. All that
they &s;ay being extraordinary, their
expre&s;&s;ions being to equal the digni|ty
of their matter, ought likewi&s;e to
be extraordinary; for this cau&s;e in
<PB N="53" REF="162">
Poetry we &s;ay nothing without <HI>Hy|perboles</HI>
and <HI>Metaphors,</HI> cu&s;tom not
being able to &s;upply us with terms
that are &s;trong enough. A Poetical
Di&s;cour&s;e is figure all over. The dig|nity
of the matter filling the Soul of
a Poet with Raptures, E&s;teem, and Ad|miration,
the cour&s;e of his words
cannot be equal; he is nece&s;&s;arily in|terrupted
by floods of great mo|tions
whereby his mind is agitated.
So, when the &s;ubject of his Ver&s;e has
nothing in it that can cau&s;e the&s;e com|motions
and raptures (as in Eclogues
and Comedies, and certain other ver&s;e
who&s;e matter is low:) his Style mu&s;t
be plain without Figures. It is the
quality of great and extraordinary
things that excu&s;es a Poet, and autho|rizes
him in his manner of &s;peaking;
for his matter being common, 'tis no
more lawful for him than an Hi&s;torian
to decline common Expre&s;&s;ion. Ordi|narily
we do not affect ab&s;tracted ve|rities
that are not to be perceived but
by the eyes of the mind. We are &s;o
accu&s;tomed to conceive only by the
mediation of our &s;en&s;es, that we are
<PB N="54" REF="163">
not able to comprehend barely with
our minds, unle&s;s what we would un|der&s;tand
be grounded and e&s;tabli&s;hed
upon &s;ome &s;en&s;ible experiment. Hence
it is that ab&s;tracted Expre&s;&s;ions are
Enigma's to mo&s;t people; and tho&s;e
only plea&s;e which are &s;en&s;ible, and do
form in the Imagination the picture
of the thing that is to be conceived.
Poets, who&s;e great end is to plea&s;e, do
u&s;e only the&s;e latter Expre&s;&s;ions; and
for the &s;ame rea&s;on it is, that Me|taphors
which (as we &s;aid before)
make every thing &s;o plain, are &s;o fre|quent
in their Style. This de&s;ire of
&s;triking effectually upon the &s;en&s;e, and
making them&s;elves ea&s;ily under&s;tood,
has prompted the Poets to make u&s;e
of &s;o many Fictions, and indue every
thing they mentioned with body, &s;oul,
and &s;hape.</P>
<L>A Vapour rends the Clouds, and
makes the crack,</L>
<L>The frighted World at armed <HI>Jove</HI>
does quake.</L>
<L><PB N="55" REF="163">
'Tis terrible to &s;ee torn Sails, broke
Ma&s;ts,</L>
<L><HI>Thetis</HI> face grown rough with <HI>Aeolus</HI>
bla&s;ts.</L>
<L>But raging <HI>Neptune's</HI> he, which makes
the Graves</L>
<L>For Fleets, tho&s;e flying Cities, in his
Waves.</L>
<P>When a Poet tells us, that <HI>Bellona</HI>
Godde&s;s of War <HI>put fear and terror
into a whole Army,</HI> that <HI>the god</HI> Mars
<HI>quickned the courage of the Souldier,</HI>
the&s;e ways of expre&s;&s;ing things
gives a different impre&s;&s;ion upon our
&s;en&s;e, from what we receive by the
common way of Expre&s;&s;ion, <HI>The whole
Army was terrified; the Souldier was
incouraged.</HI> Every Virtue, every Pa&s;|&s;ion
is a god among the Poets. <HI>Miner|va</HI>
is Prudence: Fear, Choller, Envy
are Furies. When the&s;e words are
con&s;idered only with the <HI>Idea's</HI> that
common cu&s;tom has joyned to them,
they make no great impre&s;&s;ion; but
the Godde&s;s of Choller cannot be re|pre&s;ented
with her eyes full of Fury,
her hands bloody, her mouth brea|thing
<PB N="56" REF="164">
fire, her Serpents, her lighted
Torches, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> but it begets a trem|bling
and horror. In the Divine Po|ems,
and in tho&s;e which were Sung
before the Sanctuary, the Prophets
made u&s;e of &s;uch ways of &s;peaking to
make them&s;elves intelligible to the
people. <HI>David</HI> makes us conceive
how God had &s;uccoured and prote|cted
him again&s;t his Enemies in as
lively and emphatical a &s;tyle as any
of the profane Poets could have done.
He repre&s;ents God Almighty coming
down in the Clouds to fight in his de|fence.</P>
<L>I look't not long e're th'earth began to
&s;hake,</L>
<L>The Rocks to tremble, and the Hills
to quake:</L>
<L>And to atte&s;t the pre&s;ence of its God,</L>
<L>Who to the Judgment on a Cherub
rode,</L>
<L>The World its fixt foundation did for|&s;ake.</L>
<L>Out from his No&s;trils a thick &s;moak
did go,</L>
<L>And from his mouth devouring fire,</L>
<L><PB N="57" REF="164">
Which more impetuous as it large did
grow,</L>
<L>And made the Heavens almo&s;t with
heat expire.</L>
<L>He bow'd the Heavens, and then
came down,</L>
<L>Under his feet chain'd darkne&s;s lay,</L>
<L>And Tempe&s;ts that no will but this
will own,</L>
<L>In ha&s;te flew on before to make him
way.</L>
<L>He follow'd clo&s;e, and their &s;low pace
did chide,</L>
<L>Bid them with greater &s;peed and
&s;wiftne&s;s ride.</L>
<L>And that he dreadful might appear,</L>
<L>Yet not con&s;ume till got more near.</L>
<L>Dark Waters and thick Clouds his
face did hide.</L>
<P>Poe&s;y awakens, Pro&s;e lulls and
di&s;po&s;es to &s;leep. The Narratives of
a Poet are interrupted with Exclama|tions,
Apo&s;trophes, Digre&s;&s;ions, and
thou&s;ands of other Figures to allure
attention. Poets regard things only
in places where they are mo&s;t capa|ble
<PB N="58" REF="165">
of charming, and mind nothing
of them but their Grandeur or Rari|ty:
They con&s;ider not any thing that
may cool their admiration. By this
means they &s;eem to be be&s;ide them|&s;elves;
and giving way to the fire of
their Imagination, they grow Enthu&s;i|a&s;tick,
and like the <HI>Sybil</HI> who being
full of extraordinary In&s;piration, &s;pake
not the common Language of Man|kind;
<Q><L>&mdash;Sed pectus anhelat,</L>
<L>Et rabie fera Corda tument; Ma|jorq,
videri,</L>
<L>Nec Mortale &s;onans, efflata e&s;t nu|mine
quando</L>
<L>Jam propiore Dei.&mdash;</L></Q></P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="59" REF="165">
<HEAD>CHAP. V.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The beauty of Di&s;cour&s;e is an effect
of an exact Ob&s;ervation of the Rules
of Speaking.</HEAD>
<P>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. Flou|ri&s;hes
in di&s;cour&s;e proceed in the &s;ame
manner from the good Complexion,
that is, from the ju&s;tne&s;s and exact|ne&s;s
of a di&s;cour&s;e. The &s;ame thing
admits of &s;everal Names according to
the &s;everal faces by which it is repre|&s;ented.
When Beauty is con&s;idered
in it &s;elf, it is the flower of health; but
when it is con&s;idered with reference
to tho&s;e who do judg of that Beau|ty,
we may then &s;ay, that true Beau|ty
is that which plea&s;es Ingenious
<PB N="60" REF="166">
men, who are they that judg of things
mo&s;t rea&s;onably. It is a hard matter
to determine what it is that plea&s;es,
and in what con&s;i&s;ts that <HI>Je ne &s;cay
quoy</HI> of delight that we feel in the
reading a good Author. Neverthe|le&s;s
upon reflexion we &s;hall find the
plea&s;ure we conceive in a well-com|pos'd
Di&s;cour&s;e, proceeds only from
the re&s;emblance betwixt the Image
form'd by the words in our mind, and
the things who&s;e Image they bear; &s;o
that it is either the truth that plea&s;es,
or the conformity betwixt the words
and the things. That which is cal|led
<HI>Great</HI> and <HI>Sublime,</HI> is nothing but
that conformity in its perfection and
excellence. <HI>Longinus</HI> in his Book of
this Sublimity, has given us an exam|ple
of a &s;ublime expre&s;&s;ion taken out
of the Fir&s;t Chapter of <HI>Gene&s;is,</HI> where
<HI>Mo&s;es</HI> &s;peaking of the Creation, u&s;es
the&s;e words; <HI>And God &s;aid let there
be light, and there was light;</HI> an ex|pre&s;&s;ion
that gives a &s;trong <HI>Idea</HI> of the
power of God over his Creatures,
which was the thing that <HI>Mo&s;es</HI> de|&s;igned.</P>
<P><PB N="61" REF="166">
The greatne&s;s of an Expre&s;&s;ion being
founded upon its per&s;picuity and
force, it is no hard matter to deter|mine
which are the true Ornaments
of Di&s;cour&s;e, and in what they con|&s;i&s;t.
A di&s;cour&s;e is beautiful when it
is compos'd according to the Rules of
Art; it is great when it is more than
ordinary per&s;picuous; when there is
not one equivocation; no &s;entence
unintelligible; no expre&s;&s;ion ambi|guous;
when it is well-di&s;po&s;ed, and
the mind of the Reader led directly to
the end of the de&s;ign, without the <HI>re|mora</HI>
or impediment of impertinent
words. Such clearne&s;s like a Torch
di&s;pells all ob&s;curity, and makes eve|ry
thing vi&s;ible. We have &s;hown al|ready
in our Third Book, that when
we range our words in &s;uch manner
as their pronunciation is fluid and ea|&s;y,
they make a delightful harmony to
every Body that hears them: &s;o we
need no other Rules for &s;peaking Or|nately,
than the Rules already given
for &s;peaking ju&s;tly.</P>
<P>Ornaments in Di&s;cour&s;e, like Orna|ments
of Nature, have this property,
<PB N="62" REF="167">
they are both plea&s;ant and profitable.
In Natural Beauty whatever is come|ly,
is u&s;eful. In an Orchard where the
Trees are planted in rows, or in
&s;quares, the di&s;po&s;ition of them is
plea&s;ant and u&s;eful; becau&s;e they are
&s;o &s;et, that the Earth may communi|cate
its juice equally to them all. <HI>Ar|bores
in Ordinem, certaque intervalla
redactae, placent; Quincunce nihil &s;pe|cio&s;ius
e&s;t, &s;ed id quoque prodest, ut &s;uc|cum
terrae aequaliter trahant.</HI> Pillars
are the principal Ornaments of Buil|ding,
their beauty is link'd &s;o &s;trait|ly
with the &s;olidity of the Work, that
the Pillars cannot be pull'd down
without de&s;truction to the whole
Hou&s;e. The Ornaments of a good Di&s;|cour&s;e
are al&s;o in&s;eparable. Allu&s;ions
and &s;porting with words; Figurative
repetition of certain Syllables, and o|ther
Ornaments not altogether E&s;&s;en|tial,
can give but &s;mall &s;atisfaction to
tho&s;e who con&s;ider them with the eye
of Rea&s;on: for in a word, it is truth
only that &s;atisfies a rational man; in
Ornaments there is nothing of truth;
they do rather perplex and Embara&s;s,
<PB N="63" REF="167">
and render things more unconcei|vable
than if our Di&s;cour&s;e were &s;im|ple
and natural.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The fal&s;e Idea that men have of Gran|deur,
and their de&s;ire to &s;peak no|thing
but Great things is the Cau&s;e
of ill Ornaments.</HEAD>
<P>THere are but few men that exa|mine
judiciou&s;ly the things
which pre&s;ent them&s;elves. We &s;uffer
our &s;elves to be taken with Appea|rances,
becau&s;e great things are rare,
and extraordinary. Men do form to
them&s;elves &s;uch an <HI>Idea</HI> of Grandeur,
that whatever carries an extraordina|ry
aire, appears to them great. They
put no value upon any thing that is
common. They de&s;pi&s;e the manners
of Speaking that are not natural, for
no other rea&s;on but becau&s;e they are
not extraordinary. They affect big
words, and bomba&s;t phra&s;es, <HI>Se&s;qui|pedalia
verba &amp; ampullas.</HI> To dazle
<PB N="64" REF="168">
and amaze, we need only cloth our
Propo&s;itions in &s;trange and magnifi|cent
Language. They con&s;ider not
whether under that dre&s;s there be a|ny
thing conceal'd that is effectually
great and extraordinary. That which
makes their &s;tupidity the more re|markable
is, that they admire what
they do not under&s;tand, <HI>Mirantur
quae non intelligunt;</HI> becau&s;e ob&s;curity
has &s;ome appearance of Grandeur, &s;ub|lime
and exalted things being for the
mo&s;t part ob&s;cure and difficult.</P>
<P>Men having then &s;o fal&s;e an <HI>Idea</HI> of
Grandeur, it is not to be admired if
the Ornaments wherewith their works
are adorn'd be fal&s;e and numerous, be|cau&s;e
as we have &s;ayd before, they de|&s;ire
to &s;peak nothing but what is
great. But mens ambition carrying
them beyond their pitch, they mi&s;car|ry
in their &s;light, and puff them&s;elves
up, till they crack with the too great
quantity of wind. Copiou&s;ne&s;s 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
<PB N="65" REF="168">
with a thing, they in&s;i&s;t upon it too
much, and repeat it over and over.
<HI>Ne&s;ciunt quod bene ce&s;&s;it relinquere.</HI>
They are like young Hounds that
worrey their Prey, and are not ea&s;ily
got off. Every thing is to be allowed
its natural dimen&s;ion. A Statute who&s;e
parts are di&s;proportionable, who&s;e
leggs are great, and arms &s;mall, who&s;e
body is large and head &s;mall, is mon|&s;trous
and irregular. The greate&s;t
art of Eloquence is to keep the hea|rers
attentive, and hinder them from
loo&s;ing the pro&s;pect of the end to
which we would conduct them. But
when we &s;top too long upon particu|lar
parts, we are many times imploy'd
&s;o much upon them, that we forget
the principal Subject. Copiou&s;ne&s;s
therefore is not always good. Repleti|on
and emptine&s;s are both Cau&s;es of
Di&s;ea&s;e.</P>
<P>Among&s;t Learned men tho&s;e are
mo&s;t e&s;teem'd who are be&s;t read. The
difficulty of a Science advances its
price; we have a value for tho&s;e
who under&s;tand the <HI>Arabian</HI> and
<HI>Per&s;ian</HI> Languages; we never exa|mine
<PB N="66" REF="169">
whether by tho&s;e Languages they
have acquir'd any knowledg that is
not to be found in other Authors; it
is &s;ufficient if the skilful in the&s;e Lan|guages
under&s;tand that which is hard
te be under&s;tood, and under&s;tood by
few people. Our ambition to be
thought Learned, and to intimate and
o&s;tentate our Erudition, cau&s;es that
either in Speaking or Writing, we
name continually our Authors, though
their authority be nece&s;&s;ary no farther
than to &s;how we have read them, and
to make us pa&s;s for Learned men.
This humor St. <HI>Au&s;tin</HI> reproaches to
<HI>Julian, Quis haec audiat, &amp; non ip&s;o
nominum, &s;ectarum&abque; conglobatarum
&s;trepitu terreatur, &s;i e&s;t ineruditus,
qualis est hominum multitudo, &amp; exi|stimet
te aliquem magnum, qui haec
&s;cire potueris?</HI> they heap Greek up|on
Latin, and Hebrew upon <HI>Arabick.</HI>
A trifle delivered in Greek is well e|nough
receiv'd. An <HI>Italian</HI> phra&s;e
however apply'd in di&s;cour&s;e, makes
the Author pa&s;s for a polite, well-bred
man. Were it not cu&s;tomary and com|mon,
we &s;hould be as much frighted
<PB N="67" REF="169">
at this wild way of &s;peaking, as at the
di&s;cour&s;e of a mad-man. This is a
fault that di&s;graces a &s;tyle, and hin|ders
it from being natural and clear.
If it be to add weight to our words,
that we add the Names of our Au|thors,
we ought to do it only when
nece&s;&s;ity requires us to make u&s;e of
the authority and reputation of an
Author. What need is there that we
quote <HI>Euclid</HI> to prove that the whole
is equal to all the parts: Or cite Phi|lo&s;ophers
to per&s;wade the World that
Winter is cold. I do not blame all
the&s;e 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 exce&s;s in this kind that is
blameable. Tho&s;e who have read
much are to imitate the Bee, which di|ge&s;ts
what it has &s;uck'd from the
flowers, and turns all into Honey. Na|ture
loves &s;implicity. It is the &s;ign of
di&s;temper to have the skin marked w^t^h
&s;pots of &s;everal colours. Too frequent
&s;entences trouble al&s;o the uniformity
of a &s;tyle: By the word Sentence is
<PB N="68" REF="170">
under&s;tood tho&s;e exalted and ab&s;tra|cted
thoughts that are to be expre&s;s'd
in a conci&s;e way, and in few words;
and the&s;e Sentences are called points.
I &s;peak not of tho&s;e childi&s;h and fal&s;e
Sentences which have nothing in them
but what is forced and unnatural. The
be&s;t expre&s;&s;ions plac'd too thick, do
but perplex and incommode a Style,
and render it rugged: and when
they are &s;eparated from the re&s;t of
the di&s;cour&s;e, the Style may be &s;ayd
to be rough and unplea&s;ing. The&s;e ab|&s;tracted
thoughts are like patches
&s;ow'd together, which being of a dif|ferent
colour from the re&s;t of the &s;tuff,
make the Garment ridiculous, <HI>Curan|dum
e&s;t ne &s;ententiae emineant extra
Corpus orationis expre&s;&s;ae, &s;ed intexto
ve&s;tibus colore niteant.</HI> Some love to
inter&s;per&s;e their di&s;cour&s;es with the&s;e
kind of Sentences, &s;uppo&s;ing they add
reputation to the Wit of the Author:
<HI>Facie ingenii blandiuntur.</HI></P>
<P>The la&s;t fault into which they fall
who are de&s;irous to have the honour
of doing &s;omething exactly, proceeds
from an extraordinary endeavour to
<PB N="69" REF="170">
make their Works excellent. A man
who writes with too much affectati|on,
is not capable of perceiving the ob|&s;curity
of his words. The darke&s;t of
them &s;eem clear to him; he di&s;covers
ea&s;ily all the Idea's that his Expre&s;&s;i|ons
ought to awaken to be under|&s;tood,
becau&s;e tho&s;e <HI>Idea's</HI> are pre&s;ent
to him. But it is not the &s;ame with
tho&s;e who read his Works, who&s;e ima|ginations
are not &s;o hot, and who do
not addre&s;s them&s;elves to penetrate
the &s;en&s;e of his words with &s;o great
zeal and application as he who com|pos'd
them. When a man expre&s;&s;es
him&s;elf with pain, we labour with him,
and in &s;ome mea&s;ure we participate
of his pain: If he expre&s;&s;es him&s;elf
ea&s;ily and naturally, &s;o as every word
&s;eems to fall into its place without the
trouble of picking them, that ea&s;ine&s;s
is plea&s;ant. The &s;ight of a merry Man
di&s;po&s;es us to mirth.</P>
<P>This facility appears in a Treati&s;e,
when we make u&s;e of natural expre&s;&s;i|ons,
when we avoid tho&s;e which are
elaborate, and carry the &s;en&s;ible marks
of Writing with pain. Not but that
<PB N="70" REF="171">
to furni&s;h our &s;elves with terms natu|ral
and proper, we have need &s;ome|times
of &s;tudy and application: But
this &s;tudy, this application ought not
to appear. <HI>Ludentis &s;peciem dabit,
&amp; torquebitur.</HI> As much as we may,
and the matter of which we treat will
permit, we mu&s;t give our di&s;cour&s;e
this latitude and liberty of Conver&s;a|tion.
Doubtle&s;s when a per&s;on in con|ver&s;ation
&s;peaks ea&s;ily and plea&s;ant|ly,
it goes far towards towards the
putting us into the &s;ame humour; the
plea&s;ure we take in his di&s;cour&s;e, ren|ders
every thing ea&s;y that he &s;ays.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Artificial Ornaments: Rules rela|ting
to tho&s;e Ornaments.</HEAD>
<P>BE&s;ides this natural Beauty which
is the excellence and exactne&s;s
of Di&s;cour&s;e, we are obliged to take
notice of certain Ornaments that we
may call Artificial. It mu&s;t be ac|knowledged
that in the Works of the
<PB N="71" REF="171">
mo&s;t judicious Authors, &s;ome things
are to be found that might have been
&s;pared without injury to their di&s;|cour&s;e,
without perplexity to the &s;en&s;e,
and without diminution to the
&s;trength of their &s;tyle. They are in|troduc'd
only for Imbelli&s;hment, and
are of no other u&s;e but to detain the
mind of the Reader, and make him the
more willingly attentive. Many times
when we have &s;aid all that is nece&s;&s;a|ry,
we add &s;omething for Entertain|ment,
and choo&s;e to expre&s;s our &s;elves
by Metaphors or Hyperboles: Though
perhaps cu&s;tom affords us Terms
proper enough to expre&s;s our Con|ceptions,
yet we think it better in
Di&s;cour&s;e to make u&s;e of Figures to
prevent being tedious. When our
Words and Expre&s;&s;ions are well di&s;|pos'd,
and may be conveniently pro|nounc'd,
we go farther, we mea&s;ure
them, and give them &s;uch Cadence as
may make them grateful to the ear.
Nature &s;ports her &s;elf &s;ometimes in
her own Works: all Plants do not
bear fruit, &s;ome having nothing but
flowers. We cannot therefore ab&s;o|lutely
<PB N="72" REF="172">
condemn the&s;e Ornaments that
are in&s;erted only for the diver&s;ion and
entertainment of the Reader. They
have their worth, but it is the right
u&s;e of them that gives it. The fol|lowing
Rules will not be unprofitable
for our u&s;ing this copiou&s;ne&s;s of Ex|pre&s;&s;ion
with dexterity and Art. The
fir&s;t Rule to be ob&s;erv'd in the di&s;tri|bution
of Ornaments, is to apply them
in their due time and place: Recreati|on
is of Importance when we have
been over-laden with bu&s;ine&s;s. When
a &s;ubject is difficult, and that diffi|culty
has perplex'd and troubled the
Reader, we mu&s;t have a care of &s;uch
&s;porting with words as may increa&s;e
his perplexity by diverting his
thoughts before he comprehends.
When we aim at nothing but convicti|on,
diver&s;ion is unplea&s;ant. Some
things there are that admit of no Or|nament,
&s;uch as the&s;e we call Dogma|tical.</P>
<Q>Ornari res ip&s;a negat, contenta do|ceri.</Q>
<P>When the &s;ubject of our Di&s;cour&s;e
is &s;imple, all the re&s;t ought to be &s;o
<PB N="73" REF="172">
too. Pretious Stones, and extraordi|nary
Ornaments, are u&s;ed only in
great Fe&s;tivals, and upon extraordi|nary
occa&s;ions.</P>
<P>The Second Rule requires that the
Ornaments be ju&s;t, and the Rules of
Art exactly ob&s;erved. Some people
are &s;o idle as not to concern them|&s;elves
for the impertinence or fal&s;ity of
what they &s;ay, if it be &s;poken after
the manner of a Sentence: If they can
but hedg a Metaphor or other Figure
into their Di&s;cour&s;e, they regard not
whether what they &s;ay be for or a|gain&s;t
them: If they can bring in an
<HI>Antithe&s;is,</HI> a Repetition, a Cadence
that tickles the &s;en&s;e, they care not
how vain it be, and un&s;atisfactory
to Rea&s;on. But we mu&s;t know no|thing
is beautiful that is fal&s;e; and if
there be any thing that puts a value
upon the&s;e fallacious Ornaments, it
is becau&s;e they dazle us by their
fal&s;e lu&s;tre, and deafen us by their in|&s;ignificant
Noi&s;e; or if I may &s;peak
my thoughts freely, it is becau&s;e our
judgments are defective. A Noble
mind affects things and truth in di&s;|cour&s;e
<PB N="74" REF="173">
rather than words. St. <HI>Au&s;tin</HI>
tells us, <HI>Bonorum ingeniorum in&s;ignis
e&s;t indoles, in verbis verum amare,
non verba.</HI> I cannot value a Di&s;cour&s;e
that tickles my ear, unle&s;s the matter
plea&s;es my judgment. <HI>Nullo modo
mihi &s;onat di&s;erte, quod dicitur in|epte.</HI></P>
<P>The Third Rule in the&s;e Artificial
Ornaments is to con&s;ider fir&s;t what is
u&s;eful; to make choice of &s;uch terms
and expre&s;&s;ions as are capable of im|printing
in the minds of our Audi|tors
&s;uch thoughts and motions as we
de&s;ire to give them. The fir&s;t thing
that takes up the thoughts of an Ar|chitect,
is the rai&s;ing of his walls, and
erecting &s;uch &s;trong Pillars as may
&s;upport the Super&s;tructure. If he has
a mind to beautifie, he adorns his
Pillars with Gutter-work, his Corni|&s;hes
with Frezes, and Flowers, and <HI>Me|topes,</HI>
and <HI>Treglyphes,</HI> and other deco|rations
wherewith his art &s;upplies
him. But this is to be ob&s;erv'd, things
of Ornament are never &s;et up till the
&s;olid and &s;ub&s;tantial part of the buil|ding
be fini&s;hed.</P>
<P><PB N="75" REF="173">
The la&s;t Rule is, that we keep a ju&s;t
Moderation in our Ornaments; they
mu&s;t not be too frequent: The grea|te&s;t
plea&s;ures are the &s;oone&s;t gone:
<HI>Omnis voluptas</HI> (&s;ays St. <HI>Au&s;tin) ha|bet
finitimum fa&s;tidium.</HI> Nothing is
more graceful than the eye, but he
that &s;hould have more in his face
than two, would be a Mon&s;ter. Confu|&s;ion
of Ornaments hinders di&s;cour&s;e
from being clear: and it is as ob&s;er|vable
as any thing I have hitherto
&s;ayd, that exce&s;s of Ornaments keeps
the mind of the hearer from being in|tent
upon the &s;ub&s;tance. This hap|pens
very frequently in Panegyricks,
where Orators are u&s;ually lavi&s;h of
their Eloquence, and with full hands
throw about the flowers of their Art.
The hearer admires the Orator, but
never thinks upon the per&s;on com|mended.
We are in every thing to
re&s;pect the de&s;ign. When we would
arrive happily at the end of our jour|ney,
we choo&s;e the be&s;t way we can
find; but it mu&s;t be &s;ure to conduct us
thither. When leaves cover the
Fruit, and hinder their ripening, we
<PB N="76" REF="174">
pull off tho&s;e Leaves without con&s;ide|ring
that we rob the Trees of &s;uch
beautiful Ornnments.</P>
<P>For this Rea&s;on it is, that the Ho|ly
Gho&s;t which directed the Pens of
the Apo&s;tles, &s;uffered them not to
make u&s;e of the Rhetorick and pom|pous
Eloquence of profane Orators,
which deludes the eye, and makes us
con&s;ider rather the beauty of words,
than the &s;en&s;e and rea&s;on of things.
The Sacred Scriptures were nor writ
to indulge our Vanity, but to edifie
our Souls. Tho&s;e who in Books re|quire
nothing but idle diver&s;ion, do
undervalue them; but he who loves
Rea&s;on and Matter, &s;hall find enough
in the Holy Scriptures to delight and
edify him&s;elf. One &s;ingle <HI>P&s;alm</HI> of
<HI>Davids</HI> is worth more than all the
Odes of <HI>Pindar, Anacreon,</HI> and <HI>Ho|race.
Demo&s;thenes</HI> and <HI>Cicero</HI> are
not to be compar'd to <HI>I&s;aiah.</HI> All the
Works of <HI>Plato</HI> and <HI>Ari&s;totle</HI> are not
equivalent to one of St. <HI>Paul's</HI> Chap|ters.
For in &s;hort, words being no|thing
but &s;ound, we ought not to pre|fer
their harmony to the &s;olid know|ledg
<PB N="77" REF="174">
of truth. For my own part I va|lue
not the Art of Speaking, but as it
contributes to the di&s;covery of truth;
as it forces it from the bottom of our
thoughts where it lay conceal'd; as it
di&s;intangles it, and di&s;plays it to our
eyes; and indeed this is the true cau&s;e
that has incouraged me to write of
this Art, as a thing not only u&s;eful,
but nece&s;&s;ary.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The former Table refuted, and the true
Original of Languages declared.</HEAD>
<P>IF that which <HI>Diodorus Sicu|lus</HI>
has writ of the Original of
Languages be true, what we have fan|cy'd
of our new men forming a Lan|guage
to them&s;elves, would not be a
Fable, but a true Story. That Author
&s;peaking of the opinion of the <HI>Greeks</HI>
in relation to the beginning of the
World, tells us, that after the Elements
had taken their places in the Univer&s;e,
and the Waters were run down into
the Sea, the Earth being yet moi&s;t,
was chafed by the heat of the Sun,
became fruitful, and produced man
<PB N="78" REF="175">
and the re&s;t of the Creatures. That
the&s;e men being di&s;pers'd up and
down in &s;everal places, found by ex|perience
that to defend them&s;elves a|gain&s;t
the Bea&s;ts, it would be conve|nient
to live together: That at fir&s;t
their words were confu&s;ed and gro&s;s,
which they poli&s;hed afterwards, and
e&s;tabli&s;hed &s;uch terms as were judged
nece&s;&s;ary for the explanation of their
thoughts; and that in time men be|ing
born in &s;everal corners of the
Earth, and by con&s;equence divided
into &s;everal Societies, of which every
one had form'd to it &s;elf a di&s;tinct
Language, it followed that all Nati|ons
did not make u&s;e of the &s;ame
Language.</P>
<P>The&s;e are the conjectures of the
<HI>Greeks,</HI> who had no true knowledg of
Antiquity: <HI>Plato</HI> reproaches it to
them in one of his Dialogues, where
he brings in <HI>Timaeus</HI> telling that the
<HI>Egyptians</HI> commonly call'd the <HI>Greeks</HI>
children, becau&s;e they under&s;tood no
more than Children, from whence
they had their Original, or what pa&s;s'd
in the world before they were born;
<PB N="79" REF="175">
&s;o that we are not much to depend
upon their Salvation. All the antient
monuments of Antiquity bear wit|ne&s;s
to the verity of what <HI>Mo&s;es</HI>
relates in <HI>Gene&s;is</HI> about the Crea|tion
of the World, and the Ori|ginal
of man-kind.. We under&s;tand
from thence that God formed <HI>Adam</HI>
the fir&s;t of his Sex, and gave him a
Language of which alone his Chil|dren
made u&s;e till the building of
the Tower of <HI>Bebel</HI> &s;ome time after
the Deluge. The de&s;ign of building
that Tower, was to defend them&s;elves
again&s;t God him&s;elf: If ever he &s;hould
puni&s;h the world with another De|luge,
they hop'd by that Edifice to
protect them&s;elves again&s;t him; and
they were &s;o in&s;olent in their Enter|prize,
that God Almighty finding
them ob&s;tinate, &s;ent &s;uch Confu&s;ion
into their Language and Words as
di&s;abled them from under&s;tanding one
another; by which means their de&s;ign
was fru&s;trated, and they forc'd to de|&s;i&s;t
and &s;eparate into &s;everal Coun|tries.</P>
<P>The common Opinion concerning
<PB N="80" REF="176">
this Confu&s;ion is, that <HI>God</HI> did not
&s;o confound the Languages of the&s;e
Undertakers, as to make &s;o many &s;e|veral
Languages as there were men.
It is believed only that after this Con|fu&s;ion,
every Family made u&s;e of a
particular Language; from whence it
followed that the Families being di|vided,
the men were di&s;tingui&s;hed as
well by difference of Languages, as
the places to which they retir'd. This
Confu&s;ion con&s;i&s;ted not alone in the
Novelty of Words, but in the altera|tion,
tran&s;po&s;ition, addition, or re|trenchment
of &s;everal Letters which
compos'd their familiar words before
that Confu&s;ion. Hence it is that we
ea&s;ily deduce from the <HI>Hebrew</HI> Lan|guage
(which is rationally pre&s;umed
to be that which was &s;poken by <HI>A|dam,</HI>
and u&s;ed a long time afterwards)
the Original of the antient Names of
Towns, and Provinces, and their In|habitants,
as has been prov'd by &s;eve|ral
Learned men, and particularly by
<HI>Samuel Bochart</HI> in his Sacred Geo|graphy.</P>
<P>The u&s;e of words then did not come
<PB N="81" REF="176">
by chance; it was God who taught
them at fir&s;t, and from the fir&s;t Lan|guage
that he gave to <HI>Adam,</HI> all other
Languages are deriv'd, that being
afterwards divided and multiplyed as
afore&s;aid. Yet this Confu&s;ion which
God brought into the Languages of
the Builders of the Tower of <HI>Babel,</HI>
was not the &s;ole Cau&s;e of the great di|ver&s;ity
and multiplicity of Languages.
Tho&s;e in u&s;e at this time in the world
are much more numerous than the Fa|milies
of the children of <HI>Noah,</HI> when
they were &s;eparated, and much diffe|rent
from their Languages. As in all
other things, &s;o in Languages, there are
in&s;en&s;ible alterations that in time
makes them all appear quite other
than what they were at fir&s;t. It is not
to be doubted but our pre&s;ent <HI>French</HI>
is deriv'd from that which was &s;poken
five hundred years &s;ince: and yet we
can &s;carce under&s;tand what was &s;po|ken
but two hundred years ago. It is
not to be imagin'd that the&s;e alterati|ons
happen'd only to the <HI>French</HI>
Tongue. <HI>Quintilian</HI> tells us that the
Language of the <HI>Romans</HI> in his time
<PB N="82" REF="177">
was &s;o different from what it was at
fir&s;t, that the Prie&s;ts could &s;carce un|der&s;tand
the old Hymns compos'd by
their Primitive Prie&s;ts to be Sung be|fore
their Idols.</P>
<P>The incon&s;tancy of man is a princi|pal
cau&s;e of this alteration. His love
to Novelty makes him contrive new
words in&s;tead of the old, and intro|duce
&s;uch ways of Pronunciation as in
proce&s;s of time changes entirely the
old Language into new. So that tho&s;e
who are inqui&s;itive after the Etymo|logy
or Original of new Languages, to
di&s;cover how they are deriv'd from
the Antients, ought to con&s;ider what
have been the different manners of
pronunciation in different times, and
how by tho&s;e different manners the
words have been &s;o chang'd, that they
appear quite different from what they
were in their Original. For example,
there is no great conformity betwixt
<HI>Ecrire</HI> in <HI>French,</HI> and <HI>Scribere</HI> in
Latin, betwixt <HI>Etabler,</HI> and <HI>Stabilire.</HI>
In time it came to be the cu&s;tom not
to pronounce the Letter <HI>S</HI> after <HI>E</HI> at
the beginning of a word, and then
<PB N="83" REF="177">
they writ <HI>Ecribere, Etabilere,</HI> and at
length abbreviating farther, they came
to write <HI>Ecrire, Etabler.</HI> Changes
of this Nature have &s;o di&s;guiz'd the
Latine words, that they have made a
new Language. In all Languages it
is the &s;ame with the <HI>French,</HI> which
with the <HI>Spani&s;h</HI> and <HI>Italian</HI> proceeds
from the Latin. Latin comes from
the Greek, Greek from Hebrew, as the
Chaldee, and Syriack. It is the diffe|rent
manners of Pronunciation that
have caus'd the great difference at pre|&s;ent
in all Languages. We are much
&s;urpriz'd at fir&s;t, when from an antient
Language we can derive any word of
a new Language: for example, a La|tin
from an Hebrew word, if their
difference be con&s;iderable. The &s;ur|prize
proceeds from this, that no no|tice
is taken that the Latin word be|fore
it received its pre&s;ent form, pa&s;s'd
through &s;everal Countries and Condi|tions
that altered it. The&s;e conditi|ons
are the different manners with
which it has been pronounc'd.</P>
<P>People have particular inclinations
for particular Letters, and particular
<PB N="84" REF="178">
terminations; apprehending either
by fancy or rea&s;on, that the pronunci|ation
of the&s;e Letters; and tho&s;e ter|minations
is more ea&s;y, and accommo|date
to their natural di&s;po&s;itions. This
is particularly remarkable in the
Greek Tongue; and is it, that has
introduc'd in the common u&s;e of that
Language, the particularities cal|led
Dialects. The <HI>Atticks</HI> for Exam|ple
in&s;tead of <GAP DESC="foreign">, put <GAP DESC="foreign">. They
add the Syllable <GAP DESC="foreign"> at the end of many
of their words; they do frequently add
<GAP DESC="foreign"> to the end of their Adverbs: They
contract their words in oppo&s;ition to
the <HI>Jonians</HI> who lengthen them. The
<HI>Doricks</HI> u&s;e the <HI>ae</HI> very often. The <HI>Aeo|lians</HI>
u&s;e <GAP DESC="foreign"> before (<GAP DESC="foreign">), of two <GAP DESC="foreign"> they
make two <GAP DESC="foreign">, they change the (<GAP DESC="foreign">) in|to
<GAP DESC="foreign">. It is the &s;ame with the <HI>Chaldee,</HI>
in re&s;pect of the <HI>Hebrew.</HI> The <HI>Ita|lians,
French,</HI> and <HI>Spani&s;h</HI> have their
peculiar Letters and terminations, as
may be &s;een by their Grammars and
Dictionaries. The&s;e peculiarities do
manife&s;tly change much of their Lan|guages,
and create great difference be|twixt
them; &s;o that though they pro|ceed
<PB N="85" REF="178">
from the &s;ame Parents (if I may
&s;o &s;ay) they do not &s;eem to be Si&s;ters.
For the <HI>French, Italian,</HI> and <HI>Spani&s;h,</HI>
&s;eem to be deriv'd from &s;everal Lan|guages.</P>
<P>The changes and revolutions that
happen to States, produce alteration
in Languages, becau&s;e in alteration of
Governments &s;everal different People
are united, from which mixture con|fu&s;ion
of Language mu&s;t nece&s;&s;arily
follow. So our <HI>French</HI> Language is
not deriv'd wholly from Latin, but
compos'd of &s;everal words in u&s;e a|mong
the antient <HI>Gauls</HI> and <HI>Ger|mans,</HI>
with whom the <HI>Romans</HI> coha|bited
in <HI>Gallia.</HI> The <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Tongue
has &s;everal <HI>French</HI> words, introduced
upon occa&s;ion of the <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> remai|ning
a long time in <HI>France,</HI> of which
the greate&s;t part was in their po&s;&s;e&s;&s;i|on.
The <HI>Spaniards</HI> have &s;everal <HI>Ara|bick</HI>
words derived to them from the
<HI>Moors,</HI> under who&s;e Dominion they
were for &s;ome Centuries of Years.
Terms of Art proceed commonly from
the places where tho&s;e Arts have been
&s;tudied and improved. Whence it
<PB N="86" REF="179">
comes that the <HI>Greeks</HI> having labou|red
mo&s;t towards the cultivation of
Sciences, the terms of the Liberal
Arts are generally <HI>Greek.</HI> The Art of
Navigation has been infinitely im|prov'd
in the North, and therefore the
terms of Navigation are generally in
the language of the North.</P>
<P>Colonies have been a great means
of the multiplication of Languages.
It is manife&s;t the <HI>Tyrians</HI> who traded
formerly all over the world, have car|ryed
their Language into mo&s;t Coun|tries.
At <HI>Carthage</HI> (a Colonie of the
<HI>Tyrtans)</HI> they &s;poke the Language of
the <HI>Phenicians,</HI> which was a Dialect
of <HI>Hebrew,</HI> as may be prov'd by &s;eve|ral
Arguments, but particularly by
the Ver&s;es in the <HI>Punick</HI> or <HI>Cartha|ginian</HI>
Language, to be read in <HI>Plau|tus.</HI>
But as we have &s;ayd, Colonies
multiply Languages, and make &s;eve|ral
out of one, becau&s;e tho&s;e who are
remov'd into tho&s;e Colonies, not un|der&s;tanding
well enough their own
Language to pre&s;erve it without cor|ruption,
are apt to participate of the
Language to which they are remov'd;
<PB N="87" REF="179">
by which means they by degrees be|gin
to &s;peak 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 &s;mat|tering
of Antiquity; but my de&s;ign
&s;uffers me not to enlarge upon this
Subject. From what is &s;ayd, it ap|pears
clearly that Cu&s;tom changes
Languages, that cu&s;tom makes them
what they are, and exerci&s;es a Sove|raignty
over them, that &s;hall be evin|ced
more amply in the following
Chapter.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="discourse">
<PB N="88" REF="180">
<HEAD>A Di&s;cour&s;e, in which is
given an Idea of the Art
of Per&s;wa&s;ion.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What are the Parts of the Art of Per|&s;wa&s;ion.</HEAD>
<P>THough the Arts of Speaking
and Per&s;wading are both
comprehended under the
name of Rhetorick by &s;eve|ral
great Ma&s;ters, yet it is not to be
deny'd but there is great difference
betwixt them. Every man who
&s;peaks well, has not the &s;ecret of wor|king
<PB N="89" REF="180">
upon the Affections, or working
to his &s;ide, &s;uch as were before of a
contrary opinion; and this is call'd
to per&s;wade. Wherefore being to
treat of the&s;e two Arts, I cho&s;e to do
it &s;eparately; yet I &s;hall in this place
only give an Idea of the <HI>Art of Per|&s;wa&s;ion,</HI>
not being able to treat of it
in its full latitude, becau&s;e it borrows
its Arms from &s;everal other Arts, and
cannot be &s;eparated from them, as I
&s;hall &s;how in the &s;equel of this di&s;|cour&s;e.</P>
<P>To <HI>Per&s;wade,</HI> we mu&s;t find out a
way to bring People to our Senti|ments,
that were of a contrary Senti|ment
before: We mu&s;t put our mat|ter
in Order in our minds, and having
fairly dispos'd it, we mu&s;t make
choice of &s;uch words as are proper to
expre&s;s it. We mu&s;t get by heart
what we write, that we may pronounce
it with more advantage; &s;o the <HI>Art
of Per&s;wa&s;ion</HI> con&s;i&s;ts of five parts.
The fir&s;t is, Invention of Proper
Names; the Second is, Di&s;po&s;ition of
tho&s;e means: The Third is, Elocuti|on:
The Fourth, Memory: The Fifth,
<PB N="90" REF="181">
Pronunciation. When a truth is eager|ly
conte&s;ted, unle&s;s we be blinded
with Intere&s;t, Perver&s;ene&s;s, or Pa&s;&s;ion,
good proof is &s;ufficient to convince us;
to remove all difficulties, and di&s;pel all
clouds. But when the controver&s;y
is with people that are not fond of
the truth; that are perver&s;e in their
inclinations, and prepo&s;&s;e&s;s'd by their
Pa&s;&s;ions, Rea&s;on is too weak, and we
mu&s;t make u&s;e of cunning. Upon this
occa&s;ion two things are to be done;
we mu&s;t &s;tudy their humours and in|clinations
to gain them: And becau&s;e
mo&s;t men judging (according to their
Pa&s;&s;ions) that their Friends were in
the right, and their Enemies in the
wrong, we mu&s;t infu&s;e &s;uch Motions in|to
them as may bring them to our &s;ide:
Wherefore the Ma&s;ters in that Art
have owned three ways of Per&s;wading;
Arguments, Manners, and Pa&s;&s;ion.
They teach us that to per&s;wade we
mu&s;t find proofs; we mu&s;t deliver our
&s;elves &s;o as to work upon the Inclina|tions
of him we would gain, or excite
&s;uch pa&s;&s;ion in his mind as may di&s;|po&s;e
him to our Party.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<PB N="91" REF="181">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Invention of Proofs.</HEAD>
<P>CLearne&s;s is the character of
Truth; no doubt can be made
of a clear truth, and when it is evident
in the highe&s;t degree, the mo&s;t &s;ul|len
and ob&s;tinate are obliged to throw
down their Arms, and &s;ubmit to con|viction.
No man will ever deny that
the whole is greater than the part;
That all the parts united are equal to
the whole, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> Sometimes we turn
our faces, and will not &s;ee the clear|ne&s;s
of &s;uch truths as offend us: Yet
at length, when in &s;pight of our Aver|&s;ion,
truth &s;trikes &s;trongly upon our
eyes, we are glad to &s;urrender, and our
Tongues many times give the lye to
our Minds. To per&s;wade tho&s;e who&s;e
Di&s;putes are grounded only upon the
ob&s;curity or uncertainty of a Propo&s;i|tion,
we mu&s;t make u&s;e of one or more
inconte&s;table Propo&s;itions, and make
it appear that the Propo&s;ition conte|&s;ted
<PB N="92" REF="182">
is the &s;ame with tho&s;e which are
inconte&s;table. The <HI>Roman</HI> Judges
doubted whether <HI>Milo</HI> had done ill in
killing of <HI>Claudius;</HI> they doubted
not but it was lawful to repel force
by force. <HI>Cicero</HI> to clear the in|nocence
of the accu&s;ed party, made
u&s;e of the&s;e two Propo&s;itions, <HI>We may
kill him that would murder us, and
therefore</HI> Milo <HI>might kill</HI> Claudius <HI>for
&s;eeking his life.</HI> One of the&s;e Propo|&s;itions
is clear, the other ob&s;cure:
One is granted on all hands, the other
uncertain; yet they &s;ignifie but the
&s;ame thing, and by con&s;equence one
of them being inconte&s;table, the other
mu&s;t be &s;o too. It is the fir&s;t part of
Philo&s;ophy call'd Logick, to give
Rules of Argumentation, and there|fore
it is not without rea&s;on that we
have &s;ayd in the beginning of this
Di&s;cour&s;e, that to handle this Art of
Per&s;wa&s;ion in its full dimen&s;ion, we
mu&s;t treat of &s;everal other Arts, which
could not be done without Confu|&s;ion.</P>
<P>The matter of the <HI>Art of Per&s;wa|ding</HI>
is not limited: This Art &s;hows
<PB N="93" REF="182">
it &s;elf in the Pulpit, at the Bar, at all
manner of bu&s;ine&s;s and conver&s;ation;
for in a word, the whole end of Com|merce
and Conver&s;ation is to per|&s;wade
tho&s;e with whom we deal, and
reduce them to our Sentiments. To
be then a compleat Orator, and &s;peak
well upon any thing that occurs (as
the Rhetoricians pretend their Di&s;ci|ples
may,) we ought to be univer&s;ally
well-read, and ignorant of nothing:
for a man indeed is not perfectly ca|pable
of Arguing, but when he under|&s;tands
his Subject to the bottom;
when his mind is full of clear truths,
and undoubted Maxims, from whence
Con&s;equences may be deduced to de|cide
the Controver&s;ie in que&s;tion. For
example, a Divine argues rationally
and well, when to per&s;wade an Adver|&s;ary
to his Opinion, he produces
Texts of Scripture; the Fathers, the
Councils, Tradition, and the Te&s;timo|ny
of the Church.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="94" REF="183">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Common Places.</HEAD>
<P>THere is no way of filling the
mind with certain truths up|on
the matters of which we are to
Treat, like &s;erious Meditation, and
long &s;tudy, of which few men are
capable: Knowledg is a Fruit envi|ron'd
with Thorns, that keep mo&s;t
men at a di&s;tance: &s;o that if it were
not lawful to &s;peak of any thing but
what we know, the mo&s;t part of tho&s;e
who make Oratory their Profe&s;&s;ion,
would be oblig'd to hold their peace.
To obviate &s;o inevitable an inconveni|ence,
the&s;e Orators have &s;ought out
&s;hort and ea&s;y ways to &s;upply them|&s;elves
with matter of di&s;cour&s;e, even
upon Subjects on which they are en|tirely
ignorant. They di&s;tribute the&s;e
ways into &s;everal Cla&s;&s;es, which they
call Common-Places, becau&s;e they are
publickly expos'd, and every man may
take out freely what Arguments he
<PB N="95" REF="183">
plea&s;es to prove what is in di&s;pute,
though perhaps he be quite ig|norant
of the thing in Controver&s;y
him&s;elf. The Logicians &s;peak of the&s;e
Common-places in their Topicks. I
&s;hall explain in few words the u&s;e of
the&s;e Common-places, and afterwards
&s;how what judgment is to be made of
them.</P>
<P>Common-places do properly con|tain
nothing but general advice that
remembers tho&s;e who con&s;ult them of
all the faces by which a &s;ubject may
be con&s;idered; and this may be con|venient,
becau&s;e viewing a Subject in
that manner on all &s;ides, without
doubt we may find with more ea&s;e
what is mo&s;t proper to be &s;ayd on that
&s;ubject. A thing may be ob&s;erv'd a
hundred different ways, yet it has
plea&s;ed the Authors of tho&s;e Topicks
to e&s;tabli&s;h only 16 Common-places.</P>
<P>The Fir&s;t of the&s;e Common-places
is the <HI>Genus;</HI> that is to &s;ay, we mu&s;t
con&s;ider in every &s;ubject what it has
in common with all other the like
Subjects. If we &s;peak of the War
with the <HI>Turks,</HI> we may con&s;ider War
<PB N="96" REF="184">
in general, and draw our Arguments
from that Generality.</P>
<P>The Second place is call'd <HI>Diffe|rence,</HI>
by which we con&s;ider what-ever
is peculiar to a Que&s;tion.</P>
<P>The Third is <HI>Definition;</HI> that is to
&s;ay, we mu&s;t con&s;ider the whole na|ture
of the Subject: The Di&s;cour&s;e
which expre&s;&s;es the nature of a thing,
is the definition of that thing.</P>
<P>The Fourth place is <HI>Enumeration
of the parts</HI> contain'd in the Subject
of which we Treat.</P>
<P>The Fifth is the <HI>Etymologie</HI> of the
Name of the Subject.</P>
<P>The Sixth is the <HI>Conjugates,</HI> which
are the Names which have connexion
with the name of our Subject, as the
word <HI>love</HI> has connexion with all
the&s;e other words, <HI>to love, loving,
friend&s;hip, lovely, friend, &amp;c.</HI></P>
<P>We may likewi&s;e con&s;ider the <HI>&s;imi|litude,</HI>
or <HI>di&s;&s;imilitude,</HI> in the things of
which we treat; which two Con&s;ide|rations
make the Seventh and the
Eighth places.</P>
<P>We may likewi&s;e make <HI>Compari&s;on,</HI>
and in our compari&s;on introduce eve|ry
<PB N="97" REF="184">
thing to which our &s;ubject is op|pos'd,
and this <HI>Compari&s;on</HI> and <HI>Oppo|&s;ition</HI>
are the Ninth and Tenth places.</P>
<P>The Eleventh place is <HI>Repugnance;</HI>
that is to &s;ay, in di&s;cour&s;ing upon a
Subject, we mu&s;t have an eye upon
tho&s;e things that are repugnant to it,
to di&s;cover the Proofs wherewith that
Pro&s;pect may furni&s;h us.</P>
<P>'Tis of importance to con&s;ider all
the <HI>Circum&s;tances</HI> of the matter pro|pos'd:
but the&s;e Circum&s;tances have
either <HI>preceded,</HI> or <HI>accompanyed,</HI> or
<HI>followed</HI> the thing in que&s;tion; &s;o the&s;e
<HI>Circum&s;tances</HI> do make the Twelfth,
Thirteenth, and Fourteenth places. All
the Circum&s;tances that can accompa|ny
an action, are commonly compre|hended
in this Ver&s;e</P>
<Q><L>Quis, quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis,
cur, quomodo, quando.</L></Q>
<P>That is to &s;ay 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.</P>
<P>The Fifteenth place is the <HI>Effect:</HI>
and the Sixteenth the <HI>Cau&s;e;</HI> that is to
<PB N="98" REF="185">
&s;ay, we mu&s;t have regard to the <HI>Ef|fect,</HI>
of which the thing in di&s;pute
may be the cau&s;e; and to the things
of which it may be the effect.</P>
<P>The&s;e Common-places do without
doubt &s;upply us with ample matter
for Di&s;cour&s;e. The different Con&s;ide|rations
pre&s;ent us with &s;everal Argu|ments,
and are able que&s;tionle&s;s to
furni&s;h the mo&s;t barren Invention. I
examine not now whether this &s;upply
be commendable or not. According
to this method if we be to &s;peak a|gain&s;t
a Parricide; we &s;peak again&s;t
Parricide in <HI>General,</HI> and then bring
it home to the per&s;on accus'd, and to
the re&s;t of the <HI>Particulars;</HI> then we
proceed to the <HI>Circum&s;tances</HI> of Parri|cide,
di&s;covering the blackne&s;s of the
Crime by <HI>Definitions, De&s;criptions,
Enumerations.</HI> Sometimes the <HI>Etymo|logy</HI>
of the Name of the thing upon
which we are &s;peaking, and the other
Names that have reference to it, &s;up|ply
us with matter. A long Di&s;cour&s;e
might be rais'd upon the Obligation
which Chri&s;tians have to live well, by
only remembring them of the Name
that they bear.</P>
<P><PB N="99" REF="185">
Di&s;cour&s;es are much inlarged by
<HI>Similitudes, Di&s;&s;imilitudes,</HI> and <HI>Com|pari&s;ons,</HI>
that &s;erve to remove a diffi|culty,
and illu&s;trate an ob&s;cure truth.
In a word, he who &s;hould <HI>Circumstan|tiate</HI>
an action, de&s;cribe what was
<HI>precedent, concomitant,</HI> and <HI>&s;ub&s;equent,</HI>
what was the <HI>cau&s;e,</HI> and what was the
<HI>Effect,</HI> would &s;ooner tire his Audito|ry,
than want matter for Di&s;cour&s;e.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Places proper to particular Sub|jects.</HEAD>
<P>THe Places of which we have
&s;poke are called common, be|cau&s;e
they are expo&s;ed to all the
world, and becau&s;e they furni&s;h Ar|guments
for all cau&s;es: There are o|ther
places proper to particular &s;ub|jects.
Before we &s;peak of tho&s;e places,
it is to be con&s;idered that there are
two &s;orts of Que&s;tions; The Fir&s;t is
called <HI>The&s;is,</HI> the other <HI>Hypothe&s;is.</HI> A
<HI>The&s;is</HI> is a que&s;tion not determin'd by
<PB N="100" REF="186">
any circum&s;tance of time, place, or
per&s;on, as <HI>whether War be to be made.</HI>
An <HI>Hypothe&s;is</HI> is a que&s;tion defin'd,
and circum&s;tantiated, as <HI>whether War
be to be made with the</HI> Turk <HI>in</HI> Hun|gary
<HI>this Year.</HI> But all the&s;e que&s;tions
may be referr'd to three kinds: For
we deliberate whether &s;uch an action
is to be done; we examine what
Judgment is to be made of that acti|on,
and we either approve or di&s;like
the action. The fir&s;t kind is call'd <HI>De|liberative;</HI>
the Second, <HI>Judiciary;</HI> the
Third, <HI>Demon&s;trative.</HI> Each of the&s;e
kinds has its peculiar places, that is to
&s;ay as is &s;ayd before, there are cer|tain
Coun&s;els and Directions given
for each of the&s;e kinds. As in ca&s;e of
the <HI>Deliberative,</HI> according as we
would advi&s;e the undertaking, or
quitting of an action, we mu&s;t &s;how
that it is u&s;eful, or not u&s;eful; nece&s;&s;a|ry,
or unnece&s;&s;ary; that the &s;ucce&s;s
will be prejudicial, or advantageous;
and that the Enterprize is ju&s;t or un|ju&s;t.</P>
<P>A Judiciary Que&s;tion may be con&s;i|dered
in one of the&s;e three States; ei|ther
<PB N="101" REF="186">
we know not the Author of the
action that is the &s;ubject of our Di&s;|cour&s;e,
and then becau&s;e we endea|vour
to di&s;cover the &s;aid Author by
Conjectures, that is call'd the &s;tate of
<HI>Conjectures.</HI> If the Author be known,
we examine the nature of the action.
For Example, <HI>A Thief steals out of a
Church the trea&s;ure which a private
per&s;on left there</HI> in depo&s;ito: We ex|amine
whether this action be <HI>Sacri|ledg,
or &s;imple Theft.</HI> We con&s;ider the
definition of the crime; and therefore
we call the one the &s;tate of <HI>Definiti|on,</HI>
and the other the &s;tate of <HI>Quality,</HI>
becau&s;e the quality of the action is to
be examin'd as whether it be ju&s;t or
unju&s;t.</P>
<P>In the fir&s;t &s;tate it is to be con&s;i|dered
whether the per&s;on &s;u&s;pected
would have committed &s;uch a Crime
if he could, and what Tokens there
are of it. We judg of his Will, by con|&s;idering
what advantage it would be
to him to commit it. We judg of his
Power, by con&s;idering his &s;trength, op|portunity,
and other means: and we
judg whether he was effectually guilty
<PB N="102" REF="187">
or not, by the circum&s;tances of the
action; as whether he was found a|lone
in the place where it was com|mitted;
whether before or after it was
committed he did, or let fall, any thing
that may make him rationally &s;u&s;pe|cted.</P>
<P>In the Second State we con&s;ider on|ly
the nature of the Action: All that
can be &s;ayd of it, depends upon par|ticular
knowledg. In the Third State
we con&s;ult Rea&s;on, Laws, Cu&s;tom,
Pre&s;idents, Compacts, and Equity.</P>
<P>In the <HI>Demonstrative-kind,</HI> to ap|prove
an action or condemn it, we
mu&s;t con&s;ider the <HI>Good</HI> or the <HI>Bad.
Goods</HI> in a man are to be con&s;idered
three ways; in re&s;pect of his Body, in
re&s;pect of his Mind, and in re&s;pect of
his E&s;tate. Goods relating to the Bo|dy
are felicity of Country, nobility of
Birth, advantage of Education, Health,
Strength, Beauty, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> Goods relating
to the Mind are Virtue, Sagacity, Pru|dence,
Learning, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> Goods relating
to the E&s;tate, are Riches, Honours, Im|ployments,
Commands, <HI>&amp;c.</HI></P>
<P>All the&s;e places proper and common
<PB N="103" REF="187">
to each of the&s;e three kinds, are call'd
interiour or intrin&s;ick, to di&s;tingui&s;h
them from the Exteriour which are
five, that is to &s;ay the Laws, the Wit|ne&s;&s;es,
the Practice, the Tran&s;actions,
and the An&s;wers of the Per&s;ons exa|min'd.
The Lawyer is never put to
the trouble of &s;earching his Proofs:
The Client or Solicitor puts into his
Councils hands his Breviate, his
Bonds, his Tran&s;actions; produces
the Depo&s;itions of his Witne&s;&s;es, and
the an&s;wer of him that was exa|min'd.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="5" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>V.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Reflexions upon this method of Pla|ces.</HEAD>
<P>THus in few words have I &s;hown
the Art to find Arguments upon
all Subjects of which the Rhetoricians
are accu&s;tomed to Treat, which makes
the greate&s;t part of their Rhetorick.
It is our bu&s;ine&s;s to judg of the u&s;eful|ne&s;s
of this method. My re&s;pect for
<PB N="104" REF="188">
tho&s;e Authors who have commended
it, obliges me to give you an Abridg|ment,
that you may under&s;tand the
bottom of it. It is not to be doubted
but the helps accrewing from it are of
&s;ome kind of u&s;e. They make us take
notice of &s;everal things from whence
Arguments may be drawn; they teach
us how a Subject may be vary'd and
di&s;covered on all &s;ides. So as tho&s;e
who are skill'd in the Art of <HI>Topicks,</HI>
may find matter enough to amplifie
their di&s;cour&s;e; nothing is barren to
them; they &s;peak of every thing that
occurs, as largely and as oft as they
plea&s;e. Tho&s;e who reject the&s;e To|picks,
do not deny their Fecundity;
they grant that they &s;upply us with
infinite numbers of things; but they
alledg that that Fecundity is inconve|nient;
That the things are trivial, and
by con&s;equent the Art of <HI>Topicks</HI> fur|ni&s;hes
nothing that is fit for us to &s;ay.
If an Orator (&s;ay they) under&s;tands
the &s;ubject of which he treats; if he
be full of inconte&s;table Maxims that
may inable him to re&s;olve all Difficul|ties
ari&s;ing upon that &s;ubject; If it be a
<PB N="105" REF="188">
que&s;tion in Divinity, and he be well
read in the Fathers, Councils, Scrip|tures,
<HI>&amp;c.</HI> He will quickly perceive
whether the que&s;tion propos'd be Or|thodox,
or otherwi&s;e. It is not nece&s;|&s;ary
that he runs to his Topicks, or
pa&s;&s;es from one common place to a|nother,
which are unable to &s;upply
him with nece&s;&s;ary knowledg for de|ci&s;ion
of his Que&s;tion. If on the other
&s;ide an Orator be ignorant, and under|&s;tands
not the bottom of what he
Treats, he can &s;peak but &s;uperficially,
he cannot come to the point; and af|ter
he has talk'd and argued a long
time, his Adver&s;ary will have rea&s;on
to admoni&s;h him to leave his tedious
talk that &s;ignifies nothing; to inter|rupt
him in this manner, Speak to the
purpo&s;e; oppo&s;e Rea&s;on again&s;t my
Rea&s;on, and coming to the Point, do
what you can to &s;ubvert the Founda|tions
upon which I &s;u&s;tain my &s;elf. <HI>Se|paratis
locorum Communium Nugis,
res cum re, ratio cum ratione, cau&s;a
cum cau&s;a confligat.</HI></P>
<P>If it be urg'd in favour of Com|mon-Places,
that indeed they do not
<PB N="106" REF="189">
fully in&s;truct us what to &s;ay upon all
occa&s;ions, but they help us to the
di&s;covery of Infinite Arguments that
defend and fortifie one another. To
this it is an&s;wered, and I am of the
&s;ame Opinion, That to per&s;wade, we
need but one Argument, if it be &s;o|lid
and &s;trong, and that Eloquence
con&s;i&s;ts in clearing of that, and ma|king
it per&s;picuous. All tho&s;e feeble
Arguments (proper as well to the ac|cu&s;ed,
as the accu&s;er, and as u&s;eful to
refel as affirm) deriv'd from Common-places,
are like ill Weeds that choke
the Corn.</P>
<P>This Art is dangerous for per&s;ons
of but indifferent Learning, becau&s;e
it makes them acquie&s;ce and &s;it down
with &s;mall &s;ugge&s;tions ea&s;ily obtain'd,
and neglect to &s;eek after others of
more &s;olid Importance. A witty man
&s;peaking of the method of which <HI>Rai|mondus
Lullius</HI> treated after a parti|cular
manner, calls it <HI>An Art of Di&s;|cour&s;ing
without judgment of things
we do not under&s;tand.</HI> I had rather
&s;ays <HI>Cicero,</HI> be wi&s;e without Elo|quence,
than Eloquent without Wi&s;|dom.
<PB N="107" REF="189">
<HI>Mallem indi&s;ertam &s;apientiam,
quam stultitiam loquacem.</HI> To this
may be added, that in all Di&s;cour&s;e,
whatever &s;erves not to the re&s;olution
of the Que&s;tion, ought to be re|trench'd;
and after &s;uch retrenchment
I &s;uppo&s;e very few things would re|main
wherewith our Topicks had fur|ni&s;hed
us.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Second Means to Per&s;wade.</HEAD>
<P>IF men lov'd truth, and &s;ought it
&s;incerely; to make them enter|tain
it, there would be no need of any
thing but to propo&s;e it &s;imply, and
without art, as we have already ob|&s;erv'd;
but they hate it, and becau&s;e
it con&s;i&s;ts not with their Intere&s;ts, they
do willingly blind them&s;elves that
they may not &s;ee it: They are too
much lovers of them&s;elves to be per|&s;waded
<PB N="108" REF="190">
that what is di&s;agreeable to
them, is true. Before they ad|mit
any thing to be true, they will be
a&s;&s;ured it &s;hall no way incommode
them. 'Tis in vain to u&s;e powerful
Arguments to per&s;ons re&s;olv'd not to
hear them, who look upon the truth
that is offer'd as an Enemy to their
de&s;igns, and reject her lu&s;ter, for fear
it &s;hould make their wickedne&s;s con|&s;picuous:
We are con&s;train'd there|fore
to u&s;e the greate&s;t part of Man|kind,
as we do people in a Frenzy,
we conceal &s;uch Remedies as are in|tended
for their Cure. So that the
truths of which it is nece&s;&s;ary they
&s;hould be per&s;waded, are to be deli|ver'd
with &s;uch art, that they may po&s;|&s;e&s;s
the heart before they be per|ceiv'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.</P>
<P>Orators acted by true zeal, are to
&s;tudy all po&s;&s;ible ways of gaining their
Auditors to the entertaining of truth.
A fond Mother trims up her Child,
and her tenderne&s;s is &s;uch, that &s;he
<PB N="109" REF="190">
di&s;po&s;es all people (as much as in her
lyes) to be as fond of it as her &s;elf.
If we loved truth, we &s;hould be impa|tient
to make it appear as lovely to
every body el&s;e. The Fathers of the
Church have always made it their
care to avoid whatever might render
the Church grievous. When <HI>Je&s;us
Chri&s;t</HI> began to preach his Go&s;pel to
the Jews, who were jealous for the
Honour of <HI>Mo&s;es</HI>'s Law, our Saviour
(as is ob&s;erv'd by St. <HI>Chry&s;ostom)</HI> de|clares
that he came not to de&s;troy
that Law, but to fulfil it. Without
this they would have &s;top'd their
ears, and never have heard him.</P>
<P>We have &s;ayd that antient Rheto|ricians
plac'd the <HI>Art of Per&s;wading</HI>
in the knowledg how to in&s;truct, how
to incline, and how to move an Audi|tory:
all that was to be done, was
<HI>docere, flectere,</HI> and <HI>movere.</HI> I have
&s;hown the ways that the&s;e great Ma|&s;ters
have recommended for di&s;covery
of &s;uch things as may in&s;truct us by
illu&s;trating the Subject upon which
we are to &s;peak. I &s;hall here make
&s;ome few reflexions upon the means
<PB N="110" REF="191">
of in&s;inuating into the affections of
our Hearers Common Rhetorick hath
none of the&s;e Reflexions: So though
my de&s;ign was not to Treat of the <HI>Art
of Speaking</HI> in its full Extent, yet I
&s;hall &s;ay more of it than tho&s;e 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 Rheto|ricks
were properly made. This Art
is acquir'd by &s;ublime Speculations,
by reflexions upon the nature of
our mind, upon our inclinations,
and motions of our will. 'Tis the fruit
of Experience and long Ob&s;ervation
of the manner wherewith men act and
govern them&s;elves; in a word, this
Art is no where to be caught &s;o me|thodically
as in the precepts of Mora|lity.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Qualities requir'd in a per&s;on who
would gain upon an Auditory.</HEAD>
<P>IT is of importance that an Audito|ry
has an e&s;teem for the per&s;on
<PB N="111" REF="191">
who &s;peaks. An Orator is to profe&s;s
and give &s;ome te&s;timony of his Friend|&s;hip
to tho&s;e whom he de&s;ires to per|&s;wade,
and pretend it is pure zeal to
their Intere&s;t that prompts him to
&s;peak. Mode&s;ty is ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;a|ry,
for nothing is &s;o invincible an ob|&s;tacle
to per&s;wa&s;ion as arrogancy and
boldne&s;s. Wherefore in an Orator
the&s;e four Qualities are e&s;pecially re|qui&s;ite,
<HI>Probity, Prudence, Civility,</HI>
and <HI>Mode&s;ty.</HI></P>
<P>It is clear our e&s;teem for the probi|ty
and prudence of an Orator, makes
many times a great part of his Elo|quence,
and di&s;po&s;es us to &s;urrender
even before we know what he will
&s;ay. 'Tis doubtle&s;s the effect of great
prae occupation; but that prae occu|pation
is not ami&s;s; nor is it to be
confounded with a certain ob&s;tinate
headine&s;s that inclines us to adhere
to fal&s;e Opinions in &s;pight of all Rea|&s;ons
to the contrary. Be&s;ides 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 &s;ays, when he
<PB N="112" REF="192">
is looked upon as hone&s;t, and one
who would not delude us; nor is it
more unrea&s;onable that we &s;ubmit
our judgments to their light, who are
very eminent for their wi&s;dom; &s;o
that it is more advantage for an Ora|tor
to be famous for his Virtue than
his Learning. <HI>Quintilian</HI> tells us,
<HI>In Oratore non tam dicendi facultas,
quam honesta vivendi ratio eluce&s;cat.</HI>
Chri&s;tianity obliges tho&s;e who are
Preachers &s;tudiou&s;ly to endeavour to
gain this authority in the minds of
their Auditory. And the &s;ame Go&s;pel
that forbids vanity and o&s;tentation,
commands that our good Works &s;hine
with intention, <HI>that others &s;eeing our
good Works, may glorifie, &amp;c. Sic luce|at
lux vestra coram hominibus, ut
videant opera ve&s;tra bona.</HI> This ne|ce&s;&s;ity
has prevail'd &s;ome time upon
the mo&s;t Mode&s;t to a&s;&s;ert their own
prai&s;es, and vindicate their Reputati|ons,
when otherwi&s;e their natural mo|de&s;ty
and meekne&s;s would rather have
inclin'd them to &s;it down, and be
content with the Injuries they recei|ved.
A good life is the mark that
<PB N="113" REF="192">
Chri&s;t him&s;elf has given to di&s;crimi|nate
betwixt the Preachers of Truth,
and tho&s;e who are &s;ent by the Spirit
of Error to delude and deceive us.</P>
<P>W<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter"> are much pleas'd to &s;pare our
&s;elves the pains of examining an Argu|ment,
and therefore we tru&s;t it to the
examination of &s;ome credible per&s;on:
<HI>Auctoritati credere, magnum com|pendium,
&amp; nullus labor.</HI> The autho|rity
of a good, a learned, and an emi|nent
man, is a great ea&s;e and &s;atisfa|ction
to any man that is diffident of
his own parts. No man would wil|lingly
be deceived, yet few are able
to protect them&s;elves again&s;t Error;
and therefore we are much pleas'd
when we meet a man upon who&s;e au|thority
we may depend in all matters
of di&s;pute. We &s;ee many times two
or three Great Men (who&s;e Reputati|ons
for Learning have gain'd them u|niver&s;al
e&s;teem) dividing the whole
World, whil&s;t every one ranks him&s;elf
on his &s;ide whom he believes the mo&s;t
Learned and Hone&s;t. An Orator
without that authority, gains but few
to his Opinion, becau&s;e few are able
<PB N="114" REF="193">
to perceive the &s;ubtilty of his Argu|ments.
If he would win upon the
multitude, he mu&s;t convince them that
he has tho&s;e of his &s;ide, for whom the
Multitude has a great reverence and
e&s;teem.</P>
<P>Nothing goes farther to the gaining
a man, than marks and expre&s;&s;ions of
Friend&s;hip: Friend&s;hip gives us a right
to the per&s;on belov'd. We may &s;ay a|ny
thing if the per&s;on to whom we
&s;peak be convinc'd that we love him.
<HI>Ama, &amp; dic quod vis.</HI> Our love for
truth mu&s;t be di&s;intere&s;ted and entire
to receive it from the mouth of an
Enemy. 'Tis not to be imagin'd an
Enemy would be &s;o kind as to inform
us of the truth. St. <HI>Paul's</HI> Epi&s;tles
are full of expre&s;&s;ions of Affection and
Tenderne&s;s for tho&s;e to whom he
writes; and he never reprehends them
for their Faults, till he has convinced
them it was his zeal for their Salva|tion
that prompted him to tho&s;e Ad|verti&s;ements.</P>
<P>The Fourth Quality (which as I
conceive is ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary in an
Orator) is mode&s;ty. Many times our
<PB N="115" REF="193">
ob&s;tinacy and aver&s;ion to the truth, is
cau&s;ed only by the fiercene&s;s and ar|rogance
wherewith an Orator would
force from our own mouths an ac|knowledgment
of our Ignorance. Why
do we wrangle and quarrel in our di&s;|putes,
and refu&s;e to admit the mo&s;t
indi&s;putable truths? It is becau&s;e one
&s;ide is impatient to triumph, and the
other as ob&s;tinate to adhere and con|tend
for a Victory that would be &s;o
di&s;honourable to lo&s;e. Tho&s;e who
are di&s;creet &s;uffer the eagerne&s;s of the
Adver&s;ary to cool, and with &s;uch art
conceal their triumph, that the van|qui&s;h'd
per&s;on is &s;carce &s;en&s;ible of his
defeat, but rather thinks him&s;elf vi|ctorious
over that error to which be|fore
he was a &s;lave. A prudent Ora|tor
is never to &s;peak advantageou&s;ly
of him&s;elf. Nothing &s;o certainly ali|enates
the minds of his Auditors, and
inflames them with &s;entiments of ha|tred
and di&s;dain, as the vanity of &s;elf-applau&s;e.
Honour and Reputation is
a thing to which every man pretends,
and no man will &s;uffer another to in|gro&s;s
it: For as <HI>Quintilian</HI> well ob|&s;erves,
<PB N="116" REF="194">
we have all a principle of Am|bition
that will endure nothing above
us. Hence it is that we love to ad|vance
tho&s;e who deba&s;e them&s;elves,
becau&s;e by advancing them we &s;eem
to be greater than they. <HI>Habet enim
mens no&s;tra &s;ublime quiddam, &amp; impa|tiens
&s;uperioris; ideo&abque; abjectos, &amp; &s;ub|mittentes
&s;e, lubenter allevamus, quia
hoc facere tanquam Majores videmus.</HI>
Yet this mode&s;ty ought not to be ti|merous
and mean; Firmne&s;s and Ge|nero&s;ity
are in&s;eparable from our O|rators
zeal in defence of the truth,
which being invincible, he ought ne|ver
to de&s;ert it. That man renders
him&s;elf terrible, who fears nothing
more than to injure the truth; &s;o that
it is not unbecoming if &s;ometimes he
exalts the advantages of his own &s;ide,
which is the &s;ide of truth. To this
may be added, that a di&s;cour&s;e mu&s;t
be &s;uitable to the quality of the Spea|ker:
A King mu&s;t &s;peak with Maje|&s;ty,
and that which is the &s;ign of law|ful
Authority in him, in a private per|&s;on
would be a &s;ign of In&s;olence and
Pride.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="117" REF="194">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What is to be ob&s;erved in the things
of which we Speak; and how we
are to in&s;inuate into the minds of
our Auditors.</HEAD>
<P>HAving &s;poken of our Orators
Per&s;on, let us now &s;ee what re|lates
to the things of which he treats.
If the Auditors be not concern'd, and
what he &s;ays touches not too near
upon their Intere&s;t, Artifice is not ne|ce&s;&s;ary.
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 di&s;po&s;e our hearers
to believe us. Where there is no dan|ger
of prejudice to the Hearer, there is
no fear of Oppo&s;ition to the Speaker;
but when things are propos'd contra|ry
to the intere&s;t or inclination of the
Hearer, then is addre&s;s mo&s;t nece&s;&s;a|ry:
There is no way to in&s;inuate with
him but by <HI>ambages,</HI> and fetches &s;o
cunningly introduc'd, that he is not to
<PB N="118" REF="195">
perceive the truth to which we would
per&s;wade him, till he be throughly
convinced, otherwi&s;e his ears wil be
&s;hut, and the Orator reckon'd an Ene|my.</P>
<P>Men are acted only by Intere&s;t, even
when they &s;eem to di&s;claim it; we are
oblig'd to demon&s;trate that the thing
we would per&s;wade, is not for their
di&s;advantage. We mu&s;t oppo&s;e Incli|nation
again&s;t Inclination, and to
draw them to our Sentiment, &s;erve
them as Mariners do a contrary wind
when they make u&s;e of it to carry
them to a contrary Port. This will
be better under&s;tood by an Example.
To po&s;&s;e&s;s a Woman again&s;t Painting
who loves nothing but her &s;elf, and
con&s;iders nothing but her Beauty, if
you will follow the advice of Saint
<HI>Chry&s;ostom,</HI> we mu&s;t pretend care of
her Beauty, to moderate her pa&s;&s;ion
for it; and this is to be done by &s;how|ing
that Ceru&s;e and Paint are prejudi|cial
to the Face.</P>
<P>A Debauched man who denys him|&s;elf
nothing of plea&s;ure is taken off
by propo&s;ing other plea&s;ures more
<PB N="119" REF="195">
&s;weet, or by convincing him tho&s;e
plea&s;ures will be attended with very
great pains; we mu&s;t connive at &s;elf-love,
and propo&s;e &s;omething of Equi|valence
to the man whom we would
per&s;wade from his intere&s;t; for unle&s;s
the Grace of God changes the heart,
the Pa&s;&s;ions may change the Object,
and them&s;elves continue the &s;ame.
This changing of the Object is not
difficult: A proud man will do any
thing you would have him to &s;atisfie
his Pride, and avoid being underva|lued;
&s;o that there is nothing to which
a man may not be per&s;waded, if we
know his Inclinations, and how to
make u&s;e of them.</P>
<P>When we expect to obtain from
tho&s;e to whom we &s;peak a thing that
they have no intention to grant,
though perhaps rea&s;on requires it, we
mu&s;t be content to receive it as a fa|vour.
This demand is not to be made
abruptly, but with circum&s;tance; and
after we have clearly prov'd that there
will remain more of Honour and ad|vantage
to them by granting, than by
refu&s;ing it. <HI>Chry&s;o&s;tom</HI> commends
<PB N="120" REF="196">
the prudence of <HI>Flavianus</HI> Patriarch
of <HI>Antioch,</HI> who caus'd the Emperor
<HI>Theodo&s;ius</HI> to repeal his bloody decree
again&s;t the Inhabitants of that City
for having pull'd down the Statues of
of the Empere&s;s. The Patriarch be|ing
come to <HI>Con&s;tantinople</HI> on purpo&s;e
to mollifie the Emperor, aggravated
the fault of the <HI>Antiochians;</HI> con|fe&s;s'd
them worthy of the highe&s;t cha|&s;ti&s;ements:
but at length he in&s;inua|ted,
that the greatne&s;s of their offence
would make their pardon more glori|rious,
and that a Chri&s;tian Prince
could not (with con&s;i&s;tence) revenge
an injury with &s;o much &s;everity. By
this means he wrought upon <HI>Theodo|&s;ius,</HI>
who would have rather been ex|a&s;perated,
had he gone about to miti|gate
their crime: be&s;ides it would
have appear'd as if he had approv'd
their In&s;olence, and been an Accom|plice
in their Sedition.</P>
<P>It is great advantage to an Ora|tor,
when his Auditors believe him of
their own per&s;wa&s;ion; which is not
impo&s;&s;ible though he indeavours to
di&s;&s;wade them. There is no Opinion
<PB N="121" REF="196">
whatever in which all things are ei|ther
fal&s;e or unrea&s;onable: Without of|fence
to the truth, we may &s;ide at fir&s;t
with that Opinion which we de&s;ign
to &s;ubvert, by commending that in it
which is true, and worthy commenda|tions.
For example, a Nation re|volts
from its lawful Soveraign, forces
the power out of his hands, and di|vides
it among &s;everal per&s;ons depu|ted
to Govern. Love of Liberty is
rea&s;onable and ju&s;t; &s;o our Harangue
is to begin with amplifications upon
Liberty, and at length in&s;inuating in|to
the people that Liberty is greater
under a Monarchy, than under a
Common-wealth, (where the Tyranny
is exerci&s;ed by a greater number) we
gain the point, and make u&s;e of the
&s;ame pa&s;&s;ion that provok'd them to
revolt, to reduce them to Obedi|ence.</P>
<P><HI>With the &s;ame method of prudence
we di&s;intangle people from tho&s;e for
whom they have an unrea&s;onable love,
again&s;t whom great care is to be ta|ken
that we fall not into a blunt and
immediate declamation.</HI> 'Tis true, <HI>O
<PB N="122" REF="197">
Romans,</HI> never was man more bounti|ful
and munificent than <HI>Spurius Mi|lus;</HI>
he &s;pent freely, pre&s;ented liberal|ly,
and to oblige you was very profu&s;e
in his expences; But have a care he
be not ambitious: that his Large&s;&s;es
be not &s;nares, and his Pre&s;ents the
price of your liberty.</P>
<P>Humility is the be&s;t of Virtues; it
is the companion of Innocence, and
&s;eldom to be found in a Criminal.
Criminals cannot endure to be re|proach'd
by their faults, and therefore
'tis no ea&s;y matter to gain tho&s;e whom
we de&s;ire to correct. Neverthele&s;s
when a vicious man is effectually per|&s;waded
that his crime is pernicious;
that love to his Intere&s;t is the cau&s;e
of his reprehen&s;ion: when he knows
the Speaker to be wi&s;er, and capable
of perceiving the Con&s;equences of his
ill ways better than him&s;elf, he &s;uffers
his admonition patiently, as a man in
a Gangreen &s;uffers the amputation of
the part.</P>
<P>That which makes admonition ma|ny
times ineffectual, is the in&s;olence
and imperiou&s;ne&s;s wherewith it is de|livered.
<PB N="123" REF="197">
When we would correct a
guilty per&s;on, and hope to reclaim
him, it is enough that we di&s;play
before him mode&s;tly what was his du|ty
to have done, without upbraiding
him by what he has actually done.
Some things are not ill in them&s;elves,
but for want of &s;ome circum&s;tance:
Such things may be commended, but
we mu&s;t make it appear they were
not done with due circum&s;tances of
place and of time.</P>
<P>That a Criminal may not be di&s;cou|raged
and a&s;hamed to acknowledg
his Offence, it is not ami&s;s to le&s;&s;en
and extenuate his Crime by compa|ring
it with a greater; For fear he
&s;hould ob&s;tinately per&s;i&s;t and ju&s;tify
what he has done, &s;ome way is to be
found out to ea&s;e him of his load:
Some people are &s;o refractory they
will never condemn what once they
have done. We mu&s;t &s;eparate betwixt
the crime and the per&s;on, and take
no notice that the Offender was guil|ty,
till we have brought him in to
condemn his own Crime. This was
the Prophet <HI>Nathan's</HI> Method with
<PB N="124" REF="198">
King <HI>David,</HI> when he de&s;ired to re|prehend
him for the Adultery he had
committed; he complained to him
again&s;t another per&s;on that was guil|ty
of the &s;ame Crime; and when
King <HI>David</HI> had pa&s;s'd his judgment
upon the man, then <HI>Nathan</HI> took his
opportunity, and admoni&s;hed him
that his Maje&s;ty him&s;elf was the Ori|ginal,
and that he him&s;elf had com|mitted
that &s;in which his own mouth
had condemn'd.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Qualities that we have &s;how'd
to be nece&s;&s;ary in an Orator, ought
not to be counterfeit.</HEAD>
<P>I Do not doubt very ill u&s;e may be
made of this Art, but that hin|ders
not our Rules from being good.
One may pretend love for his Hea|rers,
to conceal &s;ome ill de&s;ign that
his hatred has prompted him to me|ditate
again&s;t them: One may put on
the face of an Hone&s;t man, only to
delude tho&s;e who have a reverence
<PB N="125" REF="198">
for the lea&s;t appearance of truth; yet
it follows not but we may profe&s;s
love to our Auditors, and in&s;inuate
into their affections, when our love is
&s;incere, and we have no de&s;ign but
the intere&s;t and propagation of
truth.</P>
<P>Pagan Rhetoricians have given the
&s;ame precepts as we have done, and
Sophi&s;ters have made u&s;e of them,
which obliges us to &s;tricter and more
careful application. A wicked man
is not to be more zealous for Error,
than a Chri&s;tian for Truth: It would
be a &s;hame that Chri&s;tians &s;hould ne|glect
their natural means for propaga|tion
of the truth, whil&s;t wicked men
are &s;o bu&s;ie and indu&s;trious to deceive.
The&s;e ways are good and ju&s;t in them|&s;elves,
and every man that has pru|dence
and charity makes u&s;e of them
in&s;en&s;ibly.</P>
<P>How wicked &s;oever men be, it is
our duty to love them; we mu&s;t have
compa&s;&s;ion for their per&s;ons, and de|te&s;t
only their Crimes. <HI>Diligite ho|mines,
interficite errores.</HI> Tho&s;e who
are really pious, have no need to
<PB N="126" REF="199">
counterfeit; their charity &s;hows it
&s;elf quite through their di&s;cour&s;e; they
pitty the faults of other men, and
bear with them patiently: They cor|rect
them gently, and reflect upon
them only on that &s;ide in which they
are mo&s;t venial. <HI>Monitio acerbitate,
objurgatio contumelia careat,</HI> &s;ays <HI>Ci|cero.</HI>
Piety finds out ways not to di&s;|gu&s;t,
not to afflict the per&s;ons to be
reprehended; Piety moderates cor|rection,
and with honey-words &s;wee|tens
the bitterne&s;s of her di&s;cipline:
In a word, piety does for God what|ever
&s;elf-love and intere&s;t does for
man: So that the outward conduct of
the one, appears the &s;ame with the
outward conduct of the other, their
manners of acting being di&s;tingui&s;hed
only by their principles. A good
Chri&s;tian has no le&s;s Complai&s;ance
for tho&s;e whom he would per&s;wade,
without any de&s;ign but propagation
of the truth, than a worldling has for
tho&s;e from whom he looks for a re|compence.</P>
<P>When I &s;ayd we were not to di&s;gu&s;t
our Auditors, I did not advi&s;e that
<PB N="127" REF="199">
we &s;hould u&s;e only a &s;light complai|&s;ance
proceeding from a vain &s;atisfa|ction
we take in not being repuls'd;
Men love tho&s;e things that entertain
them with delight, <HI>Loquere nobis
placenta:</HI> It is the bu&s;ine&s;s of a flat|terer
to entertain people of that deli|cate
humour. While a Chri&s;tian
Preacher has hopes of gaining upon
his Auditors by gentlene&s;s, 'tis his
duty to u&s;e it; but when they are
hardned, and will not lay down tho&s;e
arms which they have taken up a|gain&s;t
truth, it would not be cha|rity,
but flattery to indulge them:
When prayers avail nothing, our re|cour&s;e
mu&s;t be to menace.</P>
<P>The conduct u&s;ed always by the
Fathers, was to begin mildly; but if
that mildne&s;s was ineffectual, to con|clude
with &s;everity. St. <HI>Au&s;tin</HI> tells
us, that in his fir&s;t Books wrot again&s;t
<HI>Pelagius,</HI> he would not mention his
Name, that he might not leave him
upon Record for the author of a He|&s;ie:
But when he found the Heretick
in&s;en&s;ible of that Gentlene&s;s, and that
it did but contribute to the making
<PB N="128" REF="200">
him wor&s;e, he thought the &s;ame
charity that had prompted him to
mildne&s;s at fir&s;t, oblig'd him then to
remedies more violent, and proporti|onable
to the di&s;temper of that Here|tick;
con&s;idering that if they did not
cure him, they would at lea&s;t give a|larm
to the people, and let them know
the danger of his communication.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">It is lawful to excite in tho&s;e to whom
we Speak, &s;uch pa&s;&s;ions as may con|duct
them according to our de&s;igns.</HEAD>
<P>THe third Means an Orator is to
u&s;e, is the art of exciting &s;uch
pa&s;&s;ions in the minds of his auditory
as may bend and incline them to what
&s;ide he plea&s;es. He is likewi&s;e to &s;tudy
the &s;ecret of extingui&s;hing &s;uch heats
as may divert the ears or affections of
his auditors. But it will be Objected,
<PB N="129" REF="200">
That 'tis unlawful to u&s;e &s;o unju&s;t
means as the pa&s;&s;ions. That 'tis but
ill practice to regulate and clear the
mind of an auditor, to rai&s;e fumes of
pa&s;&s;ion which will rather choak and
obfu&s;cate it. We will reply to this
Objection, as a thing worthy to be
con&s;idered.</P>
<P><HI>Pa&s;&s;ions</HI> are good in them&s;elves;
'tis extravagance that makes them
faulty. There are motions of the
Soul which incline it to good, and
divert it from evil: which pu&s;h it on
to the acqui&s;ition of the one; and prick
it forward when it is too dull and la|zy
to e&s;cape from the other. Thus
far there is no evil in pa&s;&s;ion; but
when men follow their fal&s;e Idea's of
Good and Evil, and love nothing but
the World, the Pa&s;&s;ions which were
good in their nature, become bad by
contagion of the object upon which
they are turn'd. Who can doubt but
our Pa&s;&s;ions are bad, when in the
Idea of the word <HI>Pa&s;&s;ion</HI> we compre|hend
the motions of the Sould with
all its irregularities. If by Choller
we intend the Rages, the Raptures,
<PB N="130" REF="201">
the Tran&s;ports that trouble our Rea|&s;on
it mu&s;t be confefs'd that Choller is
an ill thing: But if we take it for a
motion or affection of the Soul, that
animates again&s;t the impediments
which retard us in the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of a|ny
good; If we take it for a certain
force or power inabling us to contend
and conquer &s;uch evils; I cannot &s;ee
how any man can rea&s;onably think it
lawful to excite that Choller, and
make u&s;e of its efficacy to incourage
his auditors in que&s;t of that Good
which he propo&s;es to them.</P>
<P>In our mo&s;t exorbitant <HI>pa&s;&s;ions;</HI> in tho&s;e
who&s;e objects &s;eem nothing but fal&s;e
and pretended good; there is always
&s;omething that is really good. Is it
not a good thing to love him that is
hand&s;om, great, magnificent, or no|ble?
We may then make u&s;e of a mo|tion
that carries on towards beau|ty
and grandeur, and by &s;o doing
puts us in action. We may without
the lea&s;t &s;cruple awaken this motion
in the mind of our auditory by di&s;|playing
the grandeur and beauty of
the thing to which we per&s;wade them,
<PB N="131" REF="201">
becau&s;e it is &s;uppos'd we will recom|mend
nothing&punc; but what is worthily
great, and what is really beauti|ful.</P>
<P>Men are not to be acted, but by
motion of their pa&s;&s;ions: Every man
is carry'd away by what he loves, and
follows that which gives him mo&s;t
plea&s;ure: For which rea&s;on there is
no other natural way of prevailing
upon men, than this we have pro|pos'd.
You &s;hall never divert a Cove|tous
man from his avarice, and immo|derate
inclination to money, but by
giving him hopes of other Riches of
more prodigious value. You &s;hall ne|ver
per&s;wades a Voluptuous man from
his plea&s;ures, but by the fear of &s;ome
impending di&s;ea&s;e, or hopes of &s;ome
greater delight. Whil&s;t we are with|out
pa&s;&s;ion, we are without action;
and nothing moves us from this in|difference,
but the agitation of &s;ome
pa&s;&s;ion. The pa&s;&s;ions may be call'd the
Springs of the Mind; when an Orator
knows how to po&s;&s;e&s;s him&s;elf of the&s;e
Springs, and how to manage them
wi&s;ely&punc; nothing is hard to him,
<PB N="132" REF="202">
there is nothing but he can per|&s;wade.</P>
<P>Chri&s;tians will confe&s;s that &s;o many
illu&s;trious Martyrs have triumphed
over death, and tortures, only by the
&s;upport they received from Heaven:
that &s;o many Nuns and Holy Virgins
have &s;u&s;tain'd with their weak bodies
a life full of au&s;terities, and as it were
worn out with &s;trictne&s;s of penance,
only by a&s;&s;i&s;tance of the Divine Grace:
But it is clear the mo&s;t wicked are
capable of the &s;ame actions, and can
do what-ever was done either by the
Holy Virgins or Martyrs, if it falls
out that they cannot &s;atisfie their pre|dominant
Pa&s;&s;ion, but by &s;uffering
tho&s;e pains. <HI>Catiline</HI> was a very
ill man, yet in his Life we may ob|&s;erve
examples of extraordinary au|&s;terity
and patience; but his preten|ded
Virtue was only &s;ub&s;ervient to
his ambition: So I make this reflexi|on
only to prove that a man is wholly
in our power, when we are able to
&s;tir in him &s;uch Pa&s;&s;ions as are
proper for our de&s;ign: and therefore
a propugner of the truth is not to
<PB N="133" REF="202">
neglect &s;o efficacious a means.</P>
<P>Saint <HI>Au&s;tin</HI> advis'd the Sinner ve|ry
well, when he bid him do that for
fear of puni&s;hment which he would
not do for love of ju&s;tice: <HI>Fac timore
paenae, quod nondum potes amore ju&s;ti|tiae.</HI>
It would not be difficult to make
a painted Dame abhor paint, by con|vincing
her that it is an enemy to the
face: the fear of that would po&s;&s;ibly
affright her from it &s;ooner than the
love of God. This fear is not without
&s;in: But at length the Fathers ap|prov'd
this holy artifice, by the u&s;e
they made of it. Great confu&s;ions
mu&s;t be open'd; an Impo&s;tume mu&s;t
be cured by Inci&s;ion: This practice
may ea&s;ily be ju&s;tifi'd, but this is not
a convenient place.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">What is to be done to excite the Pa&s;|&s;ions.</HEAD>
<P>THe common way of affecting the
heart of Man, is to give him a
<PB N="134" REF="203">
lively &s;en&s;e and impre&s;&s;ion of the ob|ject
of that pa&s;&s;ion wherewith we de|&s;ire
he &s;hould be mov'd. Love is an
affection excited in the Soul by the
&s;ight of a pre&s;ent good. To kindle
this affection in a heart capable of lo|ving,
we mu&s;t pre&s;ent him with an ob|ject
of amiable qualities. Fear has for
its object not only certain evil, but e|vil
contingent. To fright a timerous
per&s;on, we need no more than to make
him &s;en&s;ible of the Evils that threaten
him. It is not without rea&s;on that the
arts of per&s;wading and well-&s;peaking
are not &s;eparated; for the one &s;erves
for little without the other. To &s;tir
and affect the Soul of a man, it &s;uffi|ces
not to give him a bare repre&s;enta|tion
of the object of that pa&s;&s;ion
wherewith we would animate him; we
mu&s;t di&s;play all the riches of our Elo|quence
to give him an ample and &s;en|&s;ible
delineation that may &s;trike it
home, and leave an impre&s;&s;ion, not like
tho&s;e phanta&s;ms that &s;lide by &s;udden|ly
before our eyes, and are &s;een no
more. To di&s;po&s;e a man to Love it
is not &s;ufficient to tell him bluntly
<PB N="135" REF="203">
the thing we propo&s;e is amiable; we
mu&s;t convince him of its good quali|ties,
make him &s;en&s;ible of them by
frequent and effectual de&s;criptions;
we mu&s;t repre&s;ent them with all their
faces, that if they prevail not by their
appearances on one &s;ide, they may not
fail by being di&s;play'd on the other:
We mu&s;t animate our &s;elves, and (if I
may &s;o &s;ay) kindle a flame in our
hearts, that it may be like a hot Fur|nace
from whence our words may pro|ceed
full of that fire which we would
kindle in the hearts of other peo|ple.</P>
<P>To treat exactly of this Subject, I
&s;hould be oblig'd to &s;peak at large of
the nature of pa&s;&s;ions, to explain them
every one particularly; to tell what
are their &s;everal Objects, what rai&s;es,
and what a&s;&s;wages them: But this
would be to &s;tuff into this art both
Natural and Moral Philo&s;ophy, which
cannot be done without confu&s;ion. Ne|verthele&s;s
I cannot excu&s;e my &s;elf
from &s;peaking more exactly of &s;ome
of the Pa&s;&s;ions, that is to &s;ay, of <HI>Ad|miration;
E&s;teem; Contempt;</HI> and
<PB N="136" REF="204">
<HI>Laughter,</HI> which are of great u&s;e in
the <HI>Art of Per&s;wa&s;ion.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Admiration</HI> is a motion of the
Mind, that converts it upon &s;ome ex|traordinary
Object, and inclines it to
con&s;ider whether the &s;aid Object be
good or bad, that it may either pur|&s;ue,
or avoid it. It is of Importance
to an Orator to excite this Pa&s;&s;ion in
the mind of his Auditory. Truth
per&s;wades, but fir&s;t it mu&s;t be known;
and that it may be known, it is nece&s;|&s;ary
he to whom we declare it, ap|plys
him&s;elf to under&s;tand it. We &s;ee
every day many Arguments rejected,
that are afterwards approv'd, becau&s;e
at that time we were not at lei&s;ure to
examine them. There are &s;everal O|pinions
that after they have been neg|lected,
and ly'n dormant &s;everal Ages,
have reviv'd again, and made a noi&s;e
in the World, becau&s;e they are &s;tudy|ed,
and by &s;tudying it is that we
know the truth or fal&s;ity of them.</P>
<P>'Tis not enough therefore to pro|duce
good arguments, to deliver them
with clearne&s;s and per&s;picuity; but
we mu&s;t u&s;e them with extraordinary
<PB N="137" REF="204">
addre&s;s, that may &s;urprize 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 pre&s;en|ted
him&s;elf before his Prince about
&s;ome affair that concern'd him very
much, the Prince never vouch&s;afing
him &s;o much as a look; he re&s;olved
the next time to pre&s;ent him&s;elf na|ked,
cover'd only with &s;ome few Figg-leaves.
And it &s;ucceeded as he de|&s;ign'd;
for the oddne&s;s of his habit ha|ving
&s;tir'd the curio&s;ity of the Prince,
and carry'd him to him to inquire
who he was, he took occa&s;ion to make
an&s;wer, and by degrees found oppor|tunity
to propo&s;e that to him, which
before he had attempted in vain.</P>
<P>Saint <HI>Chry&s;ostome</HI> ob&s;erves that
Saint <HI>Matthew</HI> begins his Hi&s;tory of
our Saviour by &s;aying he was the Son
of <HI>David,</HI> and of <HI>Abraham,</HI> (where|as
he &s;hould have &s;ayd <HI>Abraham</HI> and
<HI>David&punc;)</HI> to oblige the Jews to read
his Hi&s;tory with more attention; for
the Jews expected the <HI>Me&s;&s;iah</HI> from
the Line of <HI>David:</HI> and therefore
<PB N="138" REF="205">
nothing was more like to win upon
their attention, than to &s;peak to them
of a Son of <HI>David.</HI> All Books that
are read, all Orators that are heard,
have &s;omething or other extraordina|ry,
either in the matter or manner
of what they treat, or in the circum|&s;tance
of time and of place.</P>
<P><HI>Admiration</HI> is follow'd by e&s;teem,
or contempt. When we ob&s;erve any
thing good in the Object on which
we look with Application, we e&s;teem
it, we de&s;ire it, we love it. For this
rea&s;on, as you &s;ee, we e&s;teem nothing
properly, but what is true, what is
great, and what is hand&s;ome. When
we value ill things, it is either becau&s;e
we are deceiv'd in our judgments, or
becau&s;e we con&s;ider them only accor|ding
to appearance. A deceitful Ora|tor
per&s;wades only for a time, and the
e&s;teem and love of his Auditors,
turns into hatred and contempt, as
&s;oon as they find them&s;elves delu|ded.</P>
<P>The Object of <HI>Contempt</HI> is mean|ne&s;s
and error; that Pa&s;&s;ion is never
excited but when the Soul perceives
<PB N="139" REF="205">
nothing in its Object, but meanne&s;s
and error. To this Pa&s;&s;ion we do
willingly incline; it is plea&s;ing, and
flatters the ambition that men have
naturally for &s;uperiority and gran|deur.
We do not properly contemn
any but tho&s;e who we look upon as
Inferiors. We look down upon them
with diverti&s;ement, whereas it is trou|ble&s;om
to lift up our eyes in contem|plation
of what is above us. Other
Pa&s;&s;ions &s;pend and di&s;turb us, but this
refre&s;hes, and is u&s;eful to our health;
and indeed this pa&s;&s;ion may be call'd
rather the repo&s;e than commotion of
the Soul, becau&s;e the Soul &s;eems qui|et
and at ea&s;e in this pa&s;&s;ion, though in
others it labours and is di&s;turb'd.</P>
<P>Yet all contempt is not plea&s;ing, for
if the evil that is its object be dread|ful,
it affects us with fear, which is
really an affliction; but where the
Evil touches us not too near, and con|cerns
us not too much, the contempt
that follows is accompanyed with
laughter, and &s;o commonly accompa|ny'd
with great and unexpected joy.
There is no way &s;o effectual for the
<PB N="140" REF="206">
turning a man from an Error, as to
make it appear contemptible. There
is nothing we apprehend more, than
to be rendred ridiculous and contem|ptible
to the world. Therefore a &s;ea|&s;onable
peice of Rallery has &s;ome|times
better effect than the &s;olide&s;t
Argument.</P>
<Q><L>&mdash;Ridiculum acri,</L>
<L>Fortius &amp; melius magnas plerum&abque;
&s;ecat res.</L></Q>
<P>When we fight with &s;trong Rea&s;ons,
the trouble the adver&s;ary finds to
conceive the con&s;equence of a &s;olid
Argument, confounds him: When we
propo&s;e to him any thing that is high,
that height dazles and di&s;courages
him. But when his bu&s;ine&s;s is only
to laugh and be merry, he applys
him&s;elf readily, that application
gives him entertainment; and his
contempt of the thing that is repre|&s;ented
as ridiculous, flatters his vani|ty,
and makes him look down upon
the object as a thing infinitely be|neath
him. For this rea&s;on we ea&s;ily
<PB N="141" REF="206">
excite this contempt, becau&s;e men are
more prone to it naturally than to e|&s;teem,
as they are to &s;ports rather
than to work. To this may be added,
that &s;everal things are fit to be laught
at, for fear we &s;hould give them
weight and reputation by confuting
them &s;oberly.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">How things worthy to be laught at are
to be made ridiculous.</HEAD>
<P>SInce it is allow'd us to &s;tir and
provoke the Pa&s;&s;ions, thereby to
excite men to action, the art which
we teach of turning things into <HI>ridi|cule</HI>
is not to be blam'd, e&s;pecially
when by &s;o doing our de&s;ign is only
to reclaim and in&s;truct our auditors;
but then if the&s;e Ralleries be not
done with di&s;cretion, they will have
a quite contrary effect. The Poets in
their Comedy's pretend to mock peo|ple
out of their Vices; yet their pre|ten&s;ions
are vain, experience making
<PB N="142" REF="207">
too evident that a Reader of this &s;ort
of Plays, never made any &s;erious con|ver&s;ion.
The cau&s;e is plain, we de&s;pi&s;e
and laugh at only &s;uch things as we
think below us, and &s;uch as are but
trifles in our e&s;timation. We laugh
not at the ill treatment of the Inno|cent:
If Licentious per&s;ons make a
mock of Adultery, and &s;uch Offences
as will force tears from a pious man,
'tis becau&s;e they have not a true no|tion
of tho&s;e Crimes, and con&s;ider
them ami&s;s.</P>
<P>Poets in their Comaedies labour not
to give an aver&s;ion for Vice, their bu|&s;ine&s;s
is only to make it ridiculous; &s;o
they accu&s;tom their Readers to look
upon Debauches as incon&s;iderable Of|fences.
From a Play we &s;hall never
receive that horrour that is nece&s;&s;ary
to deter our Concupi&s;ence; the fear
of being laugh'd at will never di&s;|courage
our inclinations to plea&s;ure:
and we &s;ee Debauched per&s;ons are the
fir&s;t will laugh at their own extrava|gancies.
There are Vices to be &s;up|pre&s;s'd
only by oblivion and &s;ilence,
of which mode&s;ty and good-breeding
<PB N="143" REF="207">
will not permit us to &s;peak. The de|&s;criptions
of an Adulterer never made
any man cha&s;t, and yet tho&s;e &s;ort of
Crimes are generally the &s;ubject of
Comedy's.</P>
<P>The Orator is likewi&s;e to keep his
<HI>Decorum,</HI> and omit in his <HI>Ralleries</HI>
&s;uch things as mode&s;ty recommends
rather to our &s;ilence. If we be pru|dent
and hone&s;t, there will be no need
of adverti&s;ing that we are carefully to
avoid un&s;ea&s;onable &amp; ridiculous buf|fonory's;
and to con&s;ider that nothing
but ill things are fit to be derided:
If the Evil we would de&s;cribe be per|nicious
and great, we are rather to
render it horrid and dete&s;table. Ne|verthele&s;s
in declaiming again&s;t great
offences, we may begin with <HI>Ralleries,</HI>
if it be but to draw attention from the
hearers, which indeed is the chief end
of tho&s;e things, and that which obli|ges
me to &s;et down &s;ome Rules how we
are to turn things of that nature into
<HI>Ridicule.</HI></P>
<P>Laughter being a motion excited in
the Soul, when after it has been &s;truck
with the &s;ight of an extraordinary ob|object,
<PB N="144" REF="208">
&s;he perceives it very little; to
render a thing ridiculous we mu&s;t find
out &s;ome rare and extraordinary way
of repre&s;enting its vilene&s;s. No parti|cular
Precepts can be given for Ralle|ries.
Tho&s;e, &s;ays <HI>Cicero,</HI> who would
give directions for the laughing at o|ther
people, would be laugh'd at
them&s;elves. And yet all tricks and
extraordinary ways are proper, and
may be u&s;ed upon that occa&s;ion, that
is&punc; to di&s;cover the meanne&s;s of that ob|ject
we would render contemptible.
Wherefore the <HI>Ironia</HI> is of great u&s;e
in the&s;e ca&s;es; For &s;peaking quite
contrary to our thoughts in terms ex|traordinary
and inconvenient with the
thing of which we &s;peak, this di&s;po&s;i|tion
makes us ob&s;erve it more effe|ctually.
When we call a Ra&s;cal <HI>Ho|ne&s;t
man,</HI> that expre&s;&s;ion 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 cou|rage
to u&s;e in his defence. So <HI>I&s;aiah</HI>
droll'd with the Prophets of <HI>Sama|ria,</HI>
when with great yells and cryes
<PB N="145" REF="208">
they beg'd of their Idol, that it would
&s;end down fire from Heaven to con|&s;ume
their Sacrifice. <HI>I&s;aiah</HI> told them,
<HI>You mu&s;t cry louder, perhaps your God
does not hear you; it may be he is
in di&s;cour&s;e with other people; it may
be he is at home; it may be he is upon
the Road; it may be a&s;leep, and can|not
be awaked but by more than ordi|nary
noi&s;e.</HI> And this way of &s;peaking
of this Idol being unu&s;ual, made it
appear impotent and mean.</P>
<P>Allu&s;ions are likewi&s;e proper for
Ralleries, becau&s;e the difficulty of
under&s;tanding them makes us apply
more &s;eriou&s;ly to the finding out the
&s;ence, and that application cau&s;es us
to di&s;cover it more clearly. So al&s;o
when we have applauded a thing that
we intend &s;hould be ridiculous, and
have advanced it by magnificent ex|pre&s;&s;ions
that rai&s;e an expectation of
&s;ome great matter, if on a &s;udden we
di&s;cover its meanne&s;s, it is manife&s;t the
&s;urprize makes the hearer attentive,
and by con&s;equence more &s;en&s;ible of
what is &s;ayd.</P>
<P>If we lay a thing open, and leave it
<PB N="146" REF="209">
quite naked, by dive&s;ting it of all &s;uch
qualities as may recommend it to our
e&s;teem, we make that thing infallibly
ridiculous. <HI>Lucian</HI> relates nothing
of the Gods, and the Sages of <HI>Greece,</HI>
but what the Adorers of the one, and
the admirers of the other, have pub|li&s;h'd
in their <HI>Panegyricks:</HI> Yet <HI>Lu|cian</HI>
in his Writings renders them Ri|diculous,
becau&s;e he dive&s;ts the Gods
of the <HI>Gentiles,</HI> and the Wi&s;e-men of
<HI>Greece,</HI> of tho&s;e imaginary qualities
which the Antients admired in both&punc;
wherefore we cannot read his Books
without conceiving a contempt for
the Religion and vain wi&s;dom of the
<HI>Greeks.</HI> Be&s;ides, the very nature of
Dialogues (which is <HI>Lucian's</HI> way of
writing) is very proper to di&s;cover the
Vilene&s;s of any thing we would abu&s;e:
by making every one &s;peak according
to the principles he follows, thereby
we make them their own Informers,
and publi&s;h what-ever in them is ei|ther
ridiculous or mean.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="147" REF="209">
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<DIV3 N="1" TYPE="section">
<HEAD>I.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">The Di&s;po&s;ition and Parts of which a
Di&s;cour&s;e is to be compos'd.
Of the Exordium.</HEAD>
<P>EFfectually to <HI>Per&s;wade,</HI> we mu&s;t
fir&s;t di&s;po&s;e our Auditors to a
favourable attention of what we have
to &s;ay. Next we are to give them in|timation
of our bu&s;ine&s;s, that they
may have &s;ome notion of what we are
about. It is not enough to a&s;&s;ert and
produce proofs of our own, but we
mu&s;t refel the arguments of our Ad|ver&s;ary:
When a Di&s;cour&s;e has been
long, and 'tis to be fear'd part of what
has been &s;ayd at large, may have e&s;|caped
the memory of the hearer, 'tis
convenient at the end of our Ha|rangue
in few words to &s;um up what
has been deliver'd at length. So a Di&s;|cour&s;e
<PB N="148" REF="210">
is properly to con&s;i&s;t of five
parts, the entrance, or <HI>exordium;</HI> the
<HI>Narration</HI> or Propo&s;ition of the thing
of which we &s;peak; the <HI>Proof</HI> in con|firmation
of what we affirm; the <HI>Re|futation</HI>
of what is alledged by the ad|ver&s;ary,
in oppo&s;ition; and the <HI>Epi|logue,</HI>
or recapitulation of all that has
pa&s;s'd through the whole Body of the
Di&s;cour&s;e. I &s;hall &s;peak of the&s;e five
parts di&s;tinctly.</P>
<P>An Orator in his <HI>Exordium</HI> is to
re&s;pect three things, the favour, the
attention, and the capacity of his hea|rers.
We gain much upon our audi|tors,
and in&s;inuate &s;trangely into their
favour, when at the entrance into our
Di&s;cour&s;e we a&s;&s;ure them that what
we &s;peak is out of our &s;incere zeal to
the truth, and for advantage of the
Publick: We work upon their atten|tion
when we begin with what is mo&s;t
Noble and mo&s;t Illu&s;trious in the Sub|ject
of which we &s;peak, and what is
mo&s;t likely to excite a de&s;ire of hea|ring
the re&s;t of our Di&s;cour&s;e.</P>
<P>A Hearer is &s;u&s;ceptible when he
loves, and li&s;tens to what we &s;ay.
<PB N="149" REF="210">
Love opens his mind, and clearing it
from all prae-occupations with which
we hearken to an adver&s;ary, &s;he di&s;po|&s;es
it for the reception of the truth.
Attention makes him penetrate the
mo&s;t ob&s;cure things: There is no|thing
lyes &s;o clo&s;e, but will be di&s;co|ver'd
to a diligent and a&s;&s;iduous man,
who makes it his bu&s;ine&s;s to inquire
into &s;uch things as he is ambitious to
know.</P>
<P>I have &s;ay'd before, that 'tis good
at fir&s;t to &s;urprize our auditors with
&s;omething that is lofty and noble;
but we are likewi&s;e to be careful that
we promi&s;e no more than we are able
to perform; and that after we have
&s;oar'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, rai&s;es in the hearts
of his Hearers a certain Jealou&s;ie that
di&s;po&s;es them to criticize, and gives
them a de&s;ign not to excu&s;e him, if he
flaggs in his Tone. Mode&s;ty is bet|ter
at fir&s;t, and gains more upon an au|ditory.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="2" TYPE="section">
<PB N="150" REF="211">
<HEAD>II.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">PROPOSITION.</HEAD>
<P>SOmetimes we begin our Di&s;cour&s;e
by propo&s;ing the Subject of it
without an <HI>Exordium,</HI> which is to be
done &s;o as the ju&s;tice of the cau&s;e we
defend may appear in the &s;aid Propo|&s;ition
that con&s;i&s;ts only in the declara|tion
of what we are to &s;ay, and by
con&s;equence admits no Rules for its
length. When we are to &s;peak only
of a que&s;tion, it &s;uffices to propo&s;e it,
and that requires but few words:
When we are to &s;peak of an action, or
rhing done, we are to recite the whole
action, report all its circum&s;tances, and
make a de&s;cription of it, that may lay
it before the eyes of the Judges, and
enable them to determine as exactly
as if they had been pre&s;ent when the
action was done.</P>
<P>Some there are who to make an
action appear as they would have it&punc;
<PB N="151" REF="211">
do not &s;cruple to cloth it with circum|&s;tances
favourable to their de&s;igns,
though contrary to the truth; and
they fancy they may do it, becau&s;e
their pretence is to advance the truth,
by augmenting the goodne&s;s of their
Cau&s;e. It is not nece&s;&s;ary I &s;hould
confute the fal&s;ene&s;s of this per&s;wa&s;i|on;
for 'tis clear, that if it be contra|dictory
to truth, we make u&s;e of a lye;
it is an ill thing, becau&s;e we deviat
from the end of Speech, which was
given us to expre&s;s the truth of our
Sentiments, though again&s;t truth it
&s;elf; and when we equivocate for
truth, we do that which is di&s;plea&s;ing
to her, becau&s;e &s;he needs not equivo|cation
to defend her &s;elf.</P>
<P>We ought therefore to deliver things
&s;imply as they are, and be cautious of
in&s;erting any thing that may di&s;po&s;e
the Judges to give wrong Judgment.
There is no affair but has &s;everal fa|ces,
&s;ome agreeable that plea&s;e, others
di&s;agreeable that di&s;courage and di&s;|gu&s;t
our hearers. It is the part of a
skilful Orator to propo&s;e nothing that
may beget in the hearer a di&s;advan|tagious
<PB N="152" REF="212">
opinion of what is to fol|low.</P>
<P>An Orator is to &s;elect the circum|&s;tances
of the action he propo&s;es, and
not inlarge equally upon them all.
Some are to be pa&s;s'd in &s;ilence, o|thers
to be touch'd by the by. When
we are to be oblig'd to report an ill
circum&s;tance, that may di&s;commend
the action we would defend, we are
not to pa&s;s it over and proceed, till we
have apply'd &s;ome remedy to the evil
impre&s;&s;ion that recitation may make,
for we mu&s;t not leave our auditors in
any ill opinion that they may conceive
thereupon. We mu&s;t &s;ubjoyn &s;ome
rea&s;on or circum&s;tance to change the
face of the former, and pre&s;ent in le&s;s
odious. You mu&s;t relate the particu|lars
of his death who was kill'd, to ju|&s;tify
the per&s;on you would defend:
Being to &s;peak only in the behalf of
an innocent per&s;on, at the &s;ame time
when you relate the manner of the
others death, you mu&s;t add the ju&s;t
cau&s;es of his death, and make it ap|pear
that he who kill'd him, did it by
misfortune, or accident, without any
<PB N="153" REF="212">
de&s;ign. We mu&s;t therefore prae-occu|py
the mind of the Judges, and pre|pare
them with all the rea&s;ons, occa&s;i|ons,
and circum&s;tances that may ju&s;ti|fy
the action, that when it is related,
they may be di&s;pos'd to examine it,
and confe&s;s that there was only an
appearance of Crime; and that in ef|fect
it was ju&s;t, becau&s;e accompanyed
with all the Circum&s;tances that render
&s;uch&punc; actions innocent. This Artifice is
not only lawful, but it would be a
fault to omit it. We mu&s;t have a care
of rendring verity odious by our im|prudence;
and certainly it would be
great imprudence to deliver things in
&s;uch manner as may di&s;po&s;e our hea|rers
to give ra&s;h judgment. Men do
take their impre&s;&s;ions immediatly, and
pur&s;ue their fir&s;t judgments, and
therefore it is of importance to pre|vent
them.</P>
<P>Rhetoricians require three things
in a Narration; that it be &s;hort, clear,
and probable. It is &s;hort, when we
&s;ay all that is nece&s;&s;ary, and nothing
more. We are not to judg of the bre|vity
of a Narration by the number of
<PB N="154" REF="213">
words, but by the exactne&s;s in &s;aying
nothing &s;uperfluous. Clearne&s;s fol|lows
this exactne&s;s; impertinences do
but &s;tuff up a Hi&s;tory, and hinder the
action from being exactly repre&s;ented
to the mind. It is not hard for a good
Orator to make what he &s;ays proba|ble,
becau&s;e nothing is &s;o like the
truth that he defends, as truth it &s;elf;
and yet for this &s;ome Cunning is re|quir'd,
&s;ome Circum&s;tances are of
that nature, that deliver'd nakedly
and alone, they would become &s;u&s;pe|cted,
and would not be believ'd un|le&s;s
back'd and &s;u&s;tain'd by other cir|cum&s;tances:
Wherefore to make a
Narration appear true (as it is in ef|fect)
tho&s;e Circum&s;tances are not to
be forgot.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="3" TYPE="section">
<PB N="155" REF="213">
<HEAD>III.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of Confirmation or E&s;tabli&s;hment of
Proofs, and of Refutation.</HEAD>
<P>THe Rules we are to follow to e|&s;tabli&s;h
by &s;olid Argument the
truth we would defend, and to &s;ub|vert
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 &s;ome Rules.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t we are to con&s;ider the Subject
upon which we are to &s;peak; we are
to mind and ob&s;erve all its parts, that
we may find out what cour&s;e we are
to &s;tere for the di&s;covery either of the
truth, or the fallacy. This Rule is not
to be practis'd but by tho&s;e who
have great latitude of under&s;tanding;
by tho&s;e who are exerci&s;ed in the &s;o|lution
of Problems, and in penetrating
the mo&s;t occult things; by tho&s;e who
are &s;o well vers'd in affairs of that na|ture,
that as &s;oon as a difficulty is pro|pos'd
to them, though never &s;o intri|cat,
<PB N="156" REF="214">
they can immediatly find out the
knot, and having their minds full of
light and of truth, di&s;cover without
trouble the inconte&s;table Principles to
prove the conceal'd verity of things,
and to convince tho&s;e of fallacy that
are fal&s;e.</P>
<P>The Second Rule re&s;pects the clear|ne&s;s
of the Principles upon which we
ground our Argument. The &s;ource
of all fal&s;e Arguments that are u&s;ed
by men, is our ea&s;y and ra&s;h &s;uppo&s;i|tion
that things doubtful are true. We
&s;uffer our &s;elves to be dazled by a fal&s;e
lu&s;tre that we perceive not, till we
find we are precipitated in great ab|&s;urdities,
and oblig'd to con&s;ent to
Propo&s;itions evidently fal&s;e.</P>
<P>The Third Rule re&s;pects the Con|nexion
of Principles examin'd with
the Con&s;equences drawn from them.
In an exact Argument the Principles
and the Con&s;equences are joyn'd &s;o
&s;trictly, that having granted the Prin|ciples,
we are oblig'd to con&s;ent to the
Con&s;equence, becau&s;e the Principles
and the Con&s;equence are the &s;ame
thing; &s;o what we cannot rea&s;onaby
<PB N="157" REF="214">
deny in the one what we have con|fe&s;s'd
in the other. If I grant it law|ful
to repel force by force, and to
take away the life of my Enemy, when
I find no other means of pre&s;erving
my own; when it is prov'd to me
that <HI>Milo</HI> in killing <HI>Clodius,</HI> did but
repel force by force, I am oblig'd to
acknowledg that <HI>Milo</HI> is innocent; be|cau&s;e
in effect allowing the Propo&s;iti|on,
That it is lawful to repel one
force by another, I confe&s;s that <HI>Milo</HI>
is innocent of the death of <HI>Clodius,</HI>
who would have taken away the life
<HI>Milo.</HI> The Connexion betwixt that
Principle and that Con&s;equence be|ing
manife&s;tly clear.</P>
<P>There is great difference betwixt
the argumentation of a Geometrician,
and an Orator. Maxims in Geome|try
depend upon a &s;mall number of
Principles: The proofs of an Orator
cannot be illu&s;trated but by great
number of Circum&s;tances that fortifie
one another, and being &s;eparated,
would not be capable of convin|cing.
In the mo&s;t &s;olid Arguments,
there are always &s;ome difficulties that
<PB N="158" REF="215">
afford matter of Controver&s;y to tho&s;e
who are ob&s;tinate, 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 figh|ting
with his enemy. The Souldier
is not &s;atisfied with drawing his
Sword, he &s;trikes, and watches to
take the fir&s;t advantage that is given:
He moves up and down to avoid the
in&s;ults of his Enemy, and in a word
a&s;&s;umes all the po&s;tures that Nature
and practice have taught him for in|va&s;ion
or defence. The Geometrician
lays down his proofs, and that is &s;uffi|cient.</P>
<P>There are certain tricks and ways
of propo&s;ing an Argument, that are
as effectual as the Argument it &s;elf,
which oblige the Hearer to attention;
which make him perceive the &s;trength
of a Rea&s;on; which augment its
force; which di&s;po&s;e the mind; pre|pare
it to receive the truth; di&s;in|tangle
it from its fir&s;t Pa&s;&s;ions, and
&s;upply it with new. Tho&s;e who un|der&s;tand
the My&s;tery of Eloquence, do
<PB N="159" REF="215">
not demur or amu&s;e them&s;elves with
throngs of Arguments; they make
choice of one that is good, and manage
it as follows. They do &s;olidly lay
down the Principle of their Argu|ment;
they make it as clear and per|&s;picuous
as po&s;&s;ible. They &s;how the
connexion betwixt the Principle and
Con&s;equence deduced from it, and de|&s;ire
to demon&s;trate it. They remove
all ob&s;tacles that may hinder the hea|rer
from being per&s;waded: They re|peat
their Rea&s;ons &s;o oft, that we can|not
e&s;cape from its efficacy: They
repre&s;ent their de&s;ign with &s;o many
faces, that we cannot but own it, and
they work it &s;o effectually into our
minds, that at la&s;t it becomes ab&s;olute
Ma&s;ter.</P>
<P>The Precepts of common Rhetori|cians
touching Proofs, and Refutati|ons,
are not con&s;iderable: Rhetorici|ans
advi&s;e us to place our &s;tronge&s;t
Arguments in the Van and Front of
our Di&s;cour&s;e; our weake&s;t Argu|ments
in the Battle, and keep &s;ome
few of our be&s;t Arguments as Re|&s;erves.
The natural Order to be ob|&s;erv'd
<PB N="160" REF="216">
in the di&s;po&s;ition of Arguments;
is to place them in &s;uch &s;ort that they
may &s;erve as &s;teps to an Auditory to
arrive at the truth, and make among
them&s;elves a kind of chain to &s;top
tho&s;e whom we would reduce to the
truth.</P>
<P>Refutation requires no peculiar
Rules: When we are able to demon|&s;trate
a truth, we can ea&s;ily di&s;cover
an Error, and make it appear. That
which we have &s;ayd of the care an
Orator ought to have to demon&s;trate
the force of his Principles, and their
connexion with the Con&s;equences de|duced,
ought equally to be under&s;tood
of the care we are to take to make
the fal&s;e Principles of our Adver&s;ary
remarkable; or if their Principles be
true, to make their Con&s;equences ap|pear
fal&s;e and unnatural.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 N="4" TYPE="section">
<PB N="161" REF="216">
<HEAD>IV.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">Of the Epilogue, and other Parts in
the Art of Per&s;wa&s;ion.</HEAD>
<P>AN Orator who apprehends the
things that he &s;ays, may &s;lip
from the memory of his Auditors, is
oblig'd to repeat them before he gives
over. 'Tis po&s;&s;ible tho&s;e to whom he
&s;peaks are di&s;tracted and perplex'd
for &s;ome 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 &s;aid
before, and contracts all into &s;uch an
abridgment as may not be burthen|&s;om
to the memory. Great number of
words, amplifications, and repetitions
are only for better explication of
things, and to render them more per|&s;picuous.
Wherefore after we have
convinc'd our Auditors of the truth of
our Propo&s;ition, and made them un|der&s;tand
it clearly&punc; that the Convi|ction
<PB N="162" REF="217">
may be la&s;ting; we mu&s;t con|trive
that our Auditory may not loo&s;e
the memory of our Arguments. To
do this, our abridgment and repeti|tion
mentioned before, ought to be
made in a brisk way, but not &s;o as
to be trouble&s;ome. We mu&s;t at the
&s;ame time awaken the motions that
we have excited, and as I may &s;o &s;ay,
unbind the wounds that we made:
But reading of Orators (among whom
<HI>Cicero</HI> is excellent for Epilogues) will
give you a better notion (than my
words) of the addre&s;s and cunning to
be us'd in rama&s;ing and contracting
in the Epilogue, what in the body of
our Di&s;cour&s;e was more large and di|fu&s;e.</P>
<P>I &s;hall now fini&s;h this di&s;cour&s;e, in
which my de&s;ign was to give an I|mage
or <HI>Idea</HI> of the <HI>Art of Per&s;wa&s;i|on.</HI>
There &s;till remains for Explica|tion
three parts of this Art, <HI>Elocution,</HI>
or the manner of di&s;po&s;ing our Mat|ter;
<HI>Memory</HI> and <HI>Pronunciation:</HI> Of
<HI>Elocution</HI> I have writ a whole Trea|ti&s;e:
<HI>Memory</HI> all the world knows is
a gift of Nature, not to be improv'd
<PB N="163" REF="217">
by any thing but exerci&s;e; for which
no Precepts need to be given: and
<HI>Pronuuciation</HI> is of &s;uch advantage to
an Orator, that it de&s;erves to be
treated on at large; for there is a
Rhetorick in the eye, the motion and
air of the Body, that per&s;wades 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 de&s;pi|&s;ed.
Men are generally content with
the appearance of things. Tho&s;e who
deliver them&s;elves with a firm and
emphatical tone, and are graceful in
their <HI>Mine,</HI> are &s;ure to prevail. Few
per&s;ons make u&s;e of their Rea&s;on; com|mon
recour&s;e is to the Sen&s;e. We ex|amine
not what an Orator &s;ays, but
judg of him by our eyes and our ears:
If he &s;atisfies their eyes, and plea&s;es
their ears, he &s;hall be certain of the
hearts of his auditory. The nece&s;&s;ity
of taking advantage of our weakne&s;s,
obliges an Orator (if he be zealous for
the truth) not to de&s;pi&s;e Pronunciati|on.
We have certainly many de|fects;
<PB N="164" REF="218">
Po&s;tures that are indecent, ri|diculous,
affected, mean, and not to be
&s;uffer'd: There are likewi&s;e Imperfe|ctions
in the Voice, that are tire&s;ome
and unplea&s;ant to the Ear. 'Tis not
nece&s;&s;ary that we particularize, every
man daily ob&s;erves them. Every Pa&s;|&s;ion
has its peculiar tone, its peculiar
ge&s;ture, its peculiar <HI>Mine,</HI> which if
good or bad, make a good or a bad O|rator:
If good, they contribute not a
little to the conception of what we
would per&s;wade, 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.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<PB REF="218">
<HEAD>THE TABLE
OF
CHAPTERS.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>The Fir&s;t Part.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> THe Organs of the Voice; how
Speech is form'd. <HI>p.</HI> 1.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Before we Speak, we are to form
a Scheme in our minds of what we
are to &s;ay. <HI>p.</HI> 5.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> To mark the difference of our
Thoughts, there is need of Words of
different Orders. <HI>p.</HI> 8.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Of Noun Sub&s;tantives, Adjectives,
and Articles. <HI>p&punc;</HI> 12.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> How we can mark the references
that things have among them&s;elves.
<HI>p.</HI> 15.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<PB REF="219">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Of the Nature of Verbs. <HI>p.</HI> 18.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Of Pronouns, and that we may
with one &s;ingle Verb expre&s;s a
whole Propo&s;ition. <HI>p.</HI> 20.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> Of the Ten&s;es of Verbs. <HI>p.</HI> 22.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> That Verbs have a power of &s;ig|nifying
divers ways of affirming,
and certain circum&s;tances of the
action that they &s;ignify. <HI>p.</HI> 25.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> What Words are nece&s;&s;ary to de|note
the other Operations of our
mind. <HI>p.</HI> 28.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VI.</HI> Con&s;truction of Words, and Rules
for that Construction. <HI>p.</HI> 31.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> That we must expre&s;s all the prin|cipal
Idea's or touches in the Pi|cture
that we have formed in our
mind. <HI>p.</HI> 35.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> What ought to be the order or di&s;|po&s;ition
of our words. <HI>p.</HI> 40.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="219">
<HI>III.</HI> How we may expre&s;s our Pa&s;&s;i|ons.
<HI>p.</HI> 46.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Cu&s;tom is the Ma&s;ter of Language.
<HI>p.</HI> 50.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> There is a good Cu&s;tom and a bad;
three ways to di&s;tingui&s;h them. <HI>p.</HI> 53.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> Words are to be u&s;ed only in their
proper &s;ignification, and to expre&s;s
the Idea to which cu&s;tom has annex|ed
them. <HI>p.</HI> 60.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> We are to con&s;ider whether the
Idea's of words that are joyn'd, may
be joyn'd al&s;o. <HI>p.</HI> 62.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> It is choice of Expre&s;&s;ion that
makes a man elegant. <HI>p.</HI> 66.</ITEM>
</LIST>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>The Second Part.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> There is no Language &s;o copious and
rich to furni&s;h terms capable of ex|pre&s;&s;ing
all the different Faces un|der
which the mind can repre&s;ent
<PB REF="220">
one and the &s;ame thing; therefore
recour&s;e mu&s;t be had to certain
ways of Speaking called <HI>Tropes,</HI>
who&s;e Nature and Invention is ex|plain'd
in this Chapter. <HI>p.</HI> 69.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> A List of the mo&s;t con&s;iderable
&s;ort of Tropes. <HI>p.</HI> 72.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Of the good u&s;e of Tropes, they ought
to be clear. <HI>p.</HI> 82.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Our Tropes mu&s;t be proportion'd to
the Idea's that we would give. <HI>p.</HI> 87.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Tropes are an Ornament in Di&s;|cur&s;e.
<HI>p.</HI> 90.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> The Pa&s;&s;ions have a peculiar Lan|guage;
Expre&s;&s;ions that are the
characters of Pa&s;&s;ions are called
Figures. <HI>p.</HI> 92.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Figures are u&s;eful and nece&s;&s;ary.
<HI>p.</HI> 95.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> A List of Figures. <HI>p.</HI> 101.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="220">
<HI>IV.</HI> The number of Figures is infinite,
and every Figure may be made a
hundred &s;everal ways. <HI>p.</HI> 123.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Figures are the Arms of the Soul:
A parallel betwixt a Soldier fight|ing,
and an Orator &s;peaking. <HI>p.</HI> 125.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> The Con&s;equence of our Parallel
betwixt a Soldier fighting, and an
Orator pleading in defence of a
Cau&s;e. <HI>p.</HI> 130.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> Figures illu&s;trate ob&s;cure truths,
and make the mind attentive. <HI>p.</HI> 135.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Reflexion upon the good u&s;e of
Figures. <HI>p.</HI> 142.</ITEM>
</LIST>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>The Third Part.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Of Sounds and Letters, of which
words are compos'd. <HI>p.</HI> 105.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> What is to be avoided in ranging
our words. <HI>p.</HI> 114.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="221">
<HI>III.</HI> In &s;peaking, the voice does fre|quently
repo&s;e; we may commit
three faults in mi&s;placing the repo&s;e
of the voice. <HI>p.</HI> 121.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Too frequent repitition of the &s;ame
&s;ounds, the &s;ame letters, and the
&s;ame words, is trouble&s;ome: The
means to render pronunciation in
di&s;cour&s;e, equal. <HI>p.</HI> 127.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Words are &s;ounds; conditions ne|ce&s;&s;ary
to make &s;ounds agreeable:
The fir&s;t condition; A violent &s;ound
is di&s;agreeable; a moderate &s;ound
plea&s;eth. <HI>p.</HI> 132.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> The &s;econd condition; A &s;ound ought
to be distinct, that is &s;trong enough
to be heard. <HI>p.</HI> 133.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> The equality of &s;ounds contributes
to render them di&s;tinct, which is
the third condition. <HI>p.</HI> 134.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> The fourth condition; Diver&s;ity
is as nece&s;&s;ary as equality to render
&s;ounds agreeable. <HI>p.</HI> 136.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> The fifth condition: The precedent
<PB REF="221">
conditions are to be allied. <HI>p.</HI> 138.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VI.</HI> The &s;ixth condition; The alliance
of equality and diver&s;ity ought to
be &s;en&s;ible: what is to be ob&s;erved
in order thereunto. <HI>p.</HI> 139.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VII.</HI> What the ear di&s;tingui&s;hes in the
&s;ound of words, and what it per|ceives
with plea&s;ure. <HI>p.</HI> 140.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> The art to render pronunciation
agreeable, is to be u&s;ed with di&s;|cretion.
<HI>p.</HI> 144.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> How we are to di&s;tribute the in|tervals
of re&s;piration, that the re|po&s;es
of the voice may be propor|tionable.
<HI>p.</HI> 147.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> The compo&s;ition of Periods. <HI>p.</HI> 150.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Examples of &s;ome few Latin pe|riods:
Periods are pronounced with
ea&s;e <HI>p.</HI> 154.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> The figurative ranging of words,
and in what the&s;e Figures con|&s;i&s;t.
<HI>p.</HI> 157.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VI.</HI> Reflexions upon the&s;e Figures.
<HI>p.</HI> 162.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<PB REF="222">
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Of the mea&s;ure of time in pronun|ciation.
<HI>p.</HI> 164.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Of the &s;tructure of Ver&s;e. <HI>p.</HI> 167.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> How the Latins di&s;tingui&s;h their
mea&s;ures. How many &s;orts of mea|&s;ures
there are in the &s;tructure
of a Ver&s;e. <HI>p.</HI> 170.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Equality of Mea&s;ures. <HI>p.</HI> 175.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> Of the Variety of mea&s;ures, and
the allyance of their equality with
that variety. <HI>p.</HI> 180.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VI.</HI> How the <HI>Romans</HI> made the al|liance
of the equality and variety
of their Ver&s;e, &s;en&s;ible. <HI>p.</HI> 185.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VII.</HI> Of the Poetry of the <HI>French.
p.</HI> 187.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. V.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> There is a &s;trange &s;ympathy betwixt
Numbers and the Soul: What Num|bers
are. <HI>p.</HI> 202</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="222">
<HI>II.</HI> When Numbers agree with the
things expre&s;&s;ed, they render our
di&s;cour&s;e more lively and &s;ignifica|tive.
<HI>p.</HI> 206.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> The way of joining our di&s;cour&s;e
by Numbers that corre&s;pond to the
things &s;ignified. <HI>p.</HI> 209.</ITEM>
</LIST>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="part">
<HEAD>The Fourth Part.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> We mu&s;t chu&s;e a style &s;uitable to the
matter of which we treat. What
Style is. <HI>p.</HI> 1.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> The qualities of the &s;tyle depend
upon the qualities of the imagina|tion,
memory, and judgment of the
writer. <HI>p.</HI> 4.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> The advantage of a good imagi|nation.
<HI>p.</HI> 7.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Qualities of the &s;ub&s;tance of the
brain, and in the animal &s;pirits,
nece&s;&s;ary to make a good imagina|tion.
<HI>p.</HI> 9.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="223">
<HI>V.</HI> The advantage of a good memo|ry.
<HI>p.</HI> 13.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VI.</HI> Qualities in the mind nece&s;&s;ary to
make a man eloquent. <HI>p.</HI> 14.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>VI.</HI> Diver&s;ity of inclinations alter
the &s;tyles: Each age, each climate
has its &s;everal style. <HI>p.</HI> 19.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> The matter of which we treat, ought
to determine us in the choice of our
&s;tyle. <HI>p.</HI> 22.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Rules for the &s;ublime lofty &s;tyle.
<HI>p.</HI> 25.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> Of the plain &s;imple style. <HI>p.</HI> 32.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Of the moderate &s;tyle. <HI>p.</HI> 34.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Of styles proper to certain things;
Qualities common to all the&s;e styles.
<HI>p.</HI> 36.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> What ought to be the style of an
Orator. <HI>p.</HI> 41.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> What ought to be the style of an
Historian. <HI>p.</HI> 46.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="223">
<HI>IV.</HI> What ought to be the Dogma|tical
style. <HI>p.</HI> 48.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> What ought to be the style of a
Poet. <HI>p.</HI> 52.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> The beauty of di&s;cour&s;e is the effect
of exact ob&s;ervation of the Rules
&s;peaking. <HI>p. 59&punc;</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> The fal&s;e Idea that men have of
grandeur, and their de&s;ire to &s;peak
nothing but great things, is the
cau&s;e of ill ornaments. <HI>p.</HI> 63.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> Of artificial ornaments, and rules
relating to them. <HI>p.</HI> 70.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> The former fable refuted, and
the true original of languages de|clared.
<HI>p.</HI> 77.</ITEM>
</LIST>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="part">
<PB REF="224">
<HEAD>A Di&s;cour&s;e
Pre&s;enting an Idea of
the Art of Per&s;wa|&s;ion.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> The parts of the Art of Per&s;wa|&s;ion.
<HI>p.</HI> 88.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> The invention of Proofs. <HI>p.</HI> 91.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> Of Common Places. <HI>p.</HI> 94.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Of places proper to certain &s;ub|jects.
<HI>p.</HI> 99.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>V.</HI> Reflexion upon the method of
places. <HI>p.</HI> 103.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> A &s;econd means to per&s;wade. <HI>p.</HI> 107.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Qualities required in an Orator
<PB REF="224">
who would allure tho&s;e to whom he
&s;peaks. <HI>p.</HI> 110.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> What is to be ob&s;erved in things
upon which we &s;peak, and in what
manner we are to in&s;inuate into our
Auditors. 117&punc;</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> The qualities that we have &s;hown
to be nece&s;&s;ary in an Orator, ought
not to be counterfeit. <HI>p.</HI> 124.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> 'Tis lawful to excite &s;uch pa&s;&s;ion
in our hearers, as may carry them
as we de&s;ign. <HI>p.</HI> 128.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> What is to be done to excite the&s;e
pa&s;&s;ions. <HI>p.</HI> 133.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>III.</HI> How we may make &s;uch things
contemptible as are fit to be laught
at. <HI>p. 141&punc;</HI></ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<ITEM><HI>I.</HI> Of the di&s;po&s;ition of tho&s;e parts
that make up a di&s;cour&s;e. Of the Ex|ordium.
<HI>p.</HI> 147.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>II.</HI> Propo&s;ition. <HI>p.</HI> 150.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="225">
<HI>III.</HI> Of Confirmation, or e&s;tabli&s;hment
of proofs; and at the &s;ame time
of Refutation. <HI>p.</HI> 155.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>IV.</HI> Of the Epilogue, and other parts
of the Art of per&s;wa&s;ion. <HI>p.</HI> 161.</ITEM>
</LIST>
</DIV2>
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<HI>Barbets</HI> Chyrurgery&punc; <HI>Mindererus</HI> of Di&s;ea&s;es
Incident to Camps and Fleets: with a Chy|rurgions
Che&s;t of <HI>Medicines</HI> and <HI>In&s;truments,
&amp;c. 6 s.</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM>Dr. <HI>Lower</HI> de corde. <HI>Amster. 1671. 3 s.</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM>Dr. <HI>Grews</HI> Anatomy of Vegitables. 1672. <HI>2 s.</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Crowei</HI> Elenchi Script. in Scripturam. <HI>3 s. 6 d.</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM>Eugelenus de Scorbuto.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Fred. Deckeri</HI> Exercitationes Medicae.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Grotii</HI> via ad Pacem.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Alb. Gentilis</HI> de Armis Romanis.</ITEM>
<ITEM>De Imperio.</ITEM>
<ITEM>De Legationibus.</ITEM>
<ITEM>De Nuptiis.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Hammond</HI> de Cofirmatione.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Hugenii</HI> momenta De&s;ultoria.</ITEM>
<ITEM><PB REF="228">
<HI>Paraei</HI> Chronologia Sacra.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Thru&s;ton</HI> de Re&s;piratione.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<LIST>
<HEAD>Twelves:</HEAD>
<ITEM>A <HI>Paradi&s;e</HI> of <HI>Delights,</HI> or an <HI>Elixir</HI> of <HI>Comforts</HI>
offered to <HI>Believers,</HI> in two Di&s;cour&s;es, the
fir&s;t on <HI>Heb.</HI> 6. 17, 18. the &s;econd on <HI>Rom. 8&punc; 32&punc;</HI>
By <HI>Robert Wyne. 1 s.</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Grotii</HI> Sophompaneas.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Gronovius</HI> in Livium.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Primro&s;e</HI> Ars Pharmaceutica.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Schook</HI> de Pace.</ITEM>
<ITEM>Suetonius.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Swalve</HI> Alcali.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Severini</HI> Synop&s;is Chyrurgiae.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Terentii</HI> Flores.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Trelcatii</HI> loci Communes.</ITEM>
<ITEM>Balduinus <HI>de</HI> Calceo <HI>&amp;</HI> Nigronius <HI>de</HI> Caliga Vete|rum.
<HI>Acce&s;&s;erunt ex</HI> Q. Sept. Fl. Tertulliani, <HI>Cl.</HI>
Salma&s;ii, <HI>&amp;</HI> Alb. Rubenii <HI>Scriptis plurima eju&s;|dem
Argumenti,</HI> 1667.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Pauli Barbetti</HI> opera Chirurgica Anatomica,
1672&punc;</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Praxis</HI> Barbettiana <HI>Cum notis</HI> Fred&punc; Deckeri,
1669.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Ottonis Tachenii</HI> Hippocratis Chymicus, 1671.</ITEM>
<ITEM>Q. <HI>Horatii</HI> Poemata cum Commentariis <HI><GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="tech" EXTENT="1 letter">o. Men|ellii,</HI>
1676.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Hugo Grotius</HI> de veritate Religionis Chri&s;tianae,
1674.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Theodori Kerckringii</HI> D. M. Commentarius in <HI>Cur|rum
Triumphalem Antimonii Ba&s;ilii Valentini</HI>
a &s;e latinitate donatum, 1671.</ITEM>
<ITEM>Jo. Pincieri M. D. Aenignatum Libri Tres cum
&s;olutionibus, 1655.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Franci&s;ci Redi</HI> Experimenta circa res diver&s;as na|turales,
&s;peciatim illas quae ex Indiis adferun|tur,
1675.</ITEM>
<ITEM>Aulus Gellius.</ITEM>
<ITEM><HI>Be&s;terfeldus</HI> Redivivus.</ITEM>
<PB REF="228">
</LIST>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
