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debate? Disputes of this nature elevate the genius above all others, and give the fullest scope to eloquence; and such disputes are very frequent in this nation.

Secondly, it may be pretended that the decline of eloquence is owing to the superior good sense of the Moderns who reject with disdain all those rhetorical tricks employed to seduce the judges, and will admit of nothing but solid argument in any debate or deliberation. If a man be accused of murder, the fact must be proved by witnesses and evidence; and the laws will afterwards determine the punishment of the criminal. It would be ridiculous to describe in strong colors the horror and cruelty of the action; to introduce the relations of the dead; and at a signal make them throw themselves at the feet of the judges, imploring justice with tears and lamentations; and still more ridiculous would it be to employ a picture representing the bloody deed, in order to move the judges by the display of so tragical a spectacle, though we know that this artifice was sometimes practiced by the pleaders of old. Now, banish the pathetic from public discourses, and you reduce the speakers merely to modern eloquence; that is, to good sense delivered in proper expression.

Perhaps it may be acknowledged that our modern customs, or our superior good sense, if you will, should make our orators more cautious and reserved than the ancient, in attempting to inflame the passions, or elevate the imagination of their audience; but I see no reason why it should make them despair absolutely of succeeding in that attempt. It should make them redouble their art, not abandon it entirely. The ancient orators seem also to have been on their guard against this jealousy of their audience; but they took a different way of eluding it. They were hurried away with such a torrent of the sublime and pathetic that they left their hearers no leisure to perceive the artifice by which they were deceived. Nay, to consider the matter aright, they were not deceived by any artifice. The orator, by the force of his own genius and eloquence, first inflamed himself with anger, indignation, pity, sorrow, and then communicated those impetuous movements to his audience. Does any man pretend to have more good sense than Julius Cæsar? Yet that haughty conqueror, we know, was so subdued by the charms of Cicero's eloquence that he was, in a manner, constrained to change his settled purpose and resolution, and to absolve a criminal, whom, before that orator pleaded, he was determined to condemn.

Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast success, may lie against some passages of the Roman orator. He is too florid and rhetorical; his figures are too striking and palpable; the divisions of his discourse are drawn chiefly from the rules of the schools; and his wit disdains not always the artifice even of a pun, rhyme, or jingle of words. The Grecian addressed himself to an audience much less refined than the Roman senate or judges. The lowest vulgar of Athens were his sovereigns and the arbiters of his eloquence. Yet is his manner more chaste and austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, its success would be infallible over a modern assembly. It is rapid harmony, exactly adjusted to the sense; it is vehement reasoning, without any appearance of art; it is disdain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued stream of argument; and of all human productions, the orations of Demosthenes present to us the models which approach the nearest to perfection.

Thirdly, it may be pretended that the disorders of the ancient governments and the enormous crimes of which the citizens were often guilty, afforded much ampler matter for eloquence than can be met with among the Moderns. Were there no Verres or Catiline, there would be no Cicero. But that this reason can have no great influence is evident. It would be easy to find a Philip in modern times; but where shall we find a Demosthenes ?

What remains, then, but that we lay the blame on the want of genius, or of judgment in our speakers, who either found themselves incapable of reaching the heights of ancient eloquence, or rejected all such endeavors as unsuitable to the spirit of modern assemblies? A few successful attempts of this nature might rouse the genius of the nation, excite the emulation of the youth, and accustom our ears to a more sublime and more pathetic elocution than what we have been hitherto entertained with. There is certainly something accidental in the first rise and the progress of the arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very satisfactory reason can be given why ancient Rome, though it received all its refinements from Greece, could attain only to a relish for statuary, painting, and architecture, without reaching the practice of these arts, while modern Rome has been excited by a few remains found among the ruins of antiquity, and has produced artists of the greatest eminence and distinction. Had such a cultivated genius for oratory, as Waller's for poetry, arisen, during the civil wars, when liberty began to be fully established, and popular assemblies to enter into all the most material points of governments, I am persuaded so illustrious an example would have given a quite different turn to British eloquence, and made us reach the perfection of the ancient model. Our orators would then have done honor to their country, as well as our poets, geometers, and philosophers, and British Ciceros have appeared, as well as British Archimedeses and Virgils.

It is seldom or never found, when a false taste in poetry or eloquence prevails among any people, that it has been preferred to a true, upon comparison and reflection. It commonly prevails merely from ignorance of the true, and from the want of perfect models, to lead men into a juster apprehension, and more refined relish of those productions of genius. When these appear, they soon unite all suffrages in their favor, and, by their natural and powerful charms, gain over even the most prejudiced to the love and admiration of them. The principles of every passion, and of every sentiment, is [sic] in every man; and when touched properly, they rise to life, and warm the heart, and convey that satisfaction, by which a work of genius is distinguished from the adulterate beauties of a capricious wit and fancy. And if this observation be true with regard to all the liberal arts, it must be peculiarly so with regard to eloquence; which, being merely calculated for the public, and for men of the world, cannot, with any pretense of reason, appeal from the people to more refined judges; but must submit to the public verdict, without reserve or limitation. Whoever, upon comparison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator, ought most certainly to be pronounced such by men of science and erudition. And though an indifferent speaker may triumph for a long time, and be esteemed altogether perfect by the vulgar, who are satisfied with his accomplishments, and know not in what he is defective, yet, whenever the true genius arises, he draws to him the attention of every one, and immediately appears superior to his rival.

Now to judge by this rule, ancient eloquence, that is, the sublime and passionate, is of a much juster taste than the modern, or the argumentative and rational; and, if properly executed, will always have more command and authority over mankind. We are satisfied with our mediocrity, because we have had no experience of anything better; but the Ancients had experience of both, and upon comparison gave the preference to that kind of which they have left us such applauded models. For, if I mistake not, our modern eloquence is of the same style or species with that which ancient critics denominated Attic eloquence, that is, calm, elegant, and sublime, which instructed the reason more than affected the passions, and never raised its tone above argument or common discourse. Such was the eloquence of Lysias among the Athenians, and of Calvus among the Romans. These were

esteemed in their time; but when compared with Demosthenes and Cicero were eclipsed like a taper when set in the rays of a meridian sun. Those latter orators possessed the same elegance and sublimity, and force of argument, with the former; but what rendered them chiefly admirable was that pathos and sublimity, which, on proper occasions, they threw into their discourse, and by which they commanded the resolution of their audience.

Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely had any instance in England, at least in our public speakers. In our writers, we have had some instances, which have met with great applause, and might assure our ambitious youth of equal or superior glory in attempts for the revival of ancient eloquence. Lord Bolingbroke's productions, with all their defects in argument, method, and precision, contain a force and energy which our orators scarcely ever aim at; though it is evident that such an elevated style has much better grace in a speaker than in a writer, and is assured of more prompt and more astonishing success. It is there seconded by the graces of voice and action; the movements are mutually communicated between the orator and the audience; and the very aspect of a large assembly, attentive to the discourse of one man, must inspire him with a peculiar elevation, sufficient to give a propriety to the strongest figures and expressions. It is true there is a great prejudice against set speeches; and a man cannot escape ridicule who repeats a discourse as a schoolboy does his lesson, and takes no notice of anything that has been advanced in the course of the debate. But where is the necessity of falling into this absurdity? A public speaker must know beforehand the question under debate. He may compose all the arguments, objections, and answers, such as he thinks will be most proper for his discourse. If anything new occur, he may supply it from his invention; nor will the difference be very apparent between his elaborate and his extemporary compositions. The mind naturally continues with the same impetus or force which it has acquired by its motion; as a vessel, once impelled by the oars, carries on its course for some time, when the original impulse is suspended.

I shall conclude this subject with observing that, even though our modern orators should not elevate their style, or aspire to a rivalship with the ancient, yet is there, in most of their speeches, a material defect, which they might correct without departing from that composed air of argument and reasoning to which they limit their ambition. Their great affectation of extemporary discourses has made them reject all order and method, which seems so requisite to argument, and without which it is scarcely possible to produce an entire conviction on the mind. It is not that one would recommend many divisions in a public discourse, unless the subject very evidently offer them; but it is easy, without this formality, to observe a method, and make that method conspicuous to the hearers, who will be infinitely pleased to see the arguments rise naturally from one another, and will retain a more thorough persuasion than can arise from the strongest reasons which are thrown together in confusion.

Essay XIII. of "Essays, Moral, Political,

and Literary," 1742.

HUGH BLAIR

(1718-1800)

UGH BLAIR, author of the celebrated "Lectures on Rhetoric," was born in Edinburgh in 1718. From 1762 to 1783, he was professor of Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres at Edinburgh University where he delivered the series of lectures which, when collected and published in 1783, soon achieved wide popularity. He was by profession a clergyman, and his sermons were celebrated for their eloquence. He died at Edinburgh, December 27th, 1800. As a writer he has a happy faculty of illustration which makes his lectures on oratory models of easy and fluent prose style, worthy of study as examples of the best results of the methods of composition he advises. He lacked the faculty of concentration, and can scarcely be classed as an independent investigator; but he is thoroughly trained in the schools of Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian, and is a master of the Ciceronian art of "amplification."

THE NECESSITY FOR ELOQUENCE, AND ITS REAL NATURE

W

THEN you speak to a plain man, of eloquence, or in praise of it, he is apt to hear you with very little attention. He conceives eloquence to signify a certain trick of speech; the art of varnishing weak arguments plausibly; or of speaking so as to please and tickle the ear. "Give me good sense," says he, "and keep your eloquence for boys." He is in the right, if eloquence were what he conceives it to be. It would be then a very contemptible art, indeed, below the study of any wise or good man. But nothing can be more remote from truth. To be truly eloquent is to speak to the purpose. For the best definition which, I think, can be given of eloquence, is the art of speaking in such a manner as to attain the end for which we speak. Whenever a man speaks or writes, he is supposed, as a rational being, to have some end in view; either to inform, or to amuse, or to persuade, or, in some way or other, to act upon his fellow-creatures. He who speaks or writes in such a manner as to adapt all his words most effectually to that end is the most eloquent man. Whatever then the subject be, there is room for eloquence; in history or even in philosophy, as well as in orations. The definition which I have given of eloquence comprehends all the different kinds of it; whether calculated to instruct, to persuade, or to please. But as the most important subject of discourse is action or conduct, the power of eloquence chiefly appears when it is employed to influence conduct and persuade to action. As it is principally with reference to this end that it becomes the object of art, eloquence may, under this view of it, be defined, the art of persuasion.

This being once established, certain consequences immediately follow, which point out the fundamental maxims of the art. It follows clearly that in order to persuade, the most essential requisites are solid argument, clear method, a character of probity appearing in the speaker, joined with such graces of style and utterance as shall draw our attention to what he says. Good sense is the foundation of all. No man can be truly eloquent without it; for fools can persuade none but fools. In order to persuade a man of sense you must first convince him; which is only to be done by satisfying his understanding of the reasonableness of what you propose to him.

It is the business of the

This leads me to observe that convincing and persuading, though they are sometimes confounded, import, notwithstanding, different things, which it is necessary for us, at present, to distinguish from each other. Conviction affects the understanding only; persuasion, the will and the practice. philosopher to convince me of truth; it is the business of the orator to persuade me to act agreeably to it, by engaging my affections on its side. Conviction and persuasion do not always go together. They ought, indeed, to go together; and would do so, if our inclination regularly followed the dictates of our understanding. But as our nature is constituted, I may be convinced that virtue, justice, or public spirit, are laudable, while at the same time I am not persuaded to act according to them. The inclination may revolt, though the understanding be satisfied; the passions may prevail against the judgment. Conviction is, however, always one avenue to the inclination or heart; and it is that which an orator must first bend his strength to gain; for no persuasion is likely to be stable which is not founded on conviction. But in order to persuade, the orator must go further than merely producing conviction; he must consider man as a creature moved by many different springs, and must act upon them all. He must address himself to the passions; he must paint to the fancy, and touch the heart; and, hence, besides solid argument and clear method, all the conciliating and interesting arts, both of composition and pronunciation, enter into the idea of eloquence.

An objection may, perhaps, hence be formed against eloquence, as an art which may be employed for persuading to ill, as well as to good. There is no doubt that it may; and so reasoning may also be, and too often is, employed for leading men into error. But who would think of forming an argument from this against the cultivation of our reasoning powers? Reason, eloquence, and every art which ever has been studied among mankind, may be abused and may prove dangerous in the hands of bad men; but it were perfectly childish to contend that, upon this account, they ought to be abolished. Give truth and virtue the same arms which you give vice and falsehood, and the former are likely to prevail. Eloquence is no invention of the schools. Nature teaches every man to be eloquent, when he is much in earnest. Place him in some critical situation; let him have some great interest at stake, and you will see him lay hold of the most effectual means of persuasion. The art of oratory proposes nothing more than to follow out the track which nature has first pointed out. And the more exactly that this track is pursued, the more that eloquence is properly studied, the more shall we be guarded against the abuse which bad men make of it, and enabled the better to distinguish between true eloquence and the tricks of sophistry.

We may distinguish three kinds, or degrees of eloquence. The first, and lowest, is that which aims only at pleasing the hearers. Such, generally, is the eloquence of panegyrics, inaugural orations, addresses to great men, and other harangues of this sort. This ornamental sort of composition is not altogether to be rejected. It may innocently amuse and entertain the mind; and it may be mixed, at the same time, with very useful sentiments. But it must be confessed that where the speaker has

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