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sages, which are truly eloquent and dictated by Nature from being blended with others, which might disgust, or at least abate our passion..
What we clearly conceive, says Boileau, we can clearly express. I may add, that what is felt with emotion is expressed also with the same movements; the words arise as readily to paint our emotions, as to express our thoughts with perspicuity. The cool care an orator takes to express passions which he does not feel, only prevents his rising into that passion he would seem to feel. In a word, to feel your subject thoroughly, and to speak without fear, are the only rules of eloquence, properly so called, which I can offer. Examine a writer of genius on the most beautiful parts of his work, and he will always assure
you that such passages are generally those which have given him the least trouble, for they came as if by inspiration. To pretend that cold and didactic precepts will make a man eloquent, is only to prove that he is incapable of eloquence.
But, as in being perspicuous it is necessary to have a full idea of the subject, so in being eloquent it is not sufficient, if I may so express it, to feel by halves. The orator should be strongly impressed, which is generally the effect of a fine and exquisite fenfibility, and not that transient and superficial emotion, which he excites in the greatest part of his audience. It is even impossible to affect the hearers in any great degree without being affected ourselves. In vain it will be objected, that many writers have had the art to inspire their readers with a passion for virtue, without beirg virtuous themselves ; since it may be answered, that sentiments of virtue filled their minds at the time they were writing. They felt the inspiration strongly, while they praised justice, generosity, or good-nature ; but unhappily for them, these passions might have been Vol. IV:
discontinued, discontinued, when they laid down the pen. In vain will it be objected again, that we can move without being moved, as we can convince without being convinced. It is much easier to deceive our reason than ourselves; a trifling defect in reasoning may be overseen, and lead a man astray; for it requires reason and time to detect the falfhood, but our passions are not easily imposed upon, our eyes, our ears, and every sense, are watchful to detect the impofture.
No discourse can be eloquent, that does not elevate the mind. Pathetic eloquence, it is true, has for its only object to affect ; but I appeal to men of sensibility, whether their pathetic feelings are not accompanied with fome degree of elevation. We may then call eloquence and sublimity the same thing, since it is impossible to be one without feeling the other. Hence it follows, that we may be eloquent in any language, since no language refuses to paint those sentiments, with which we are thoroughly impressed. What is usually called sublimity of style seems to be only an error. Eloquence is not in the words but in the subject, and in great concerns the more simply any thing is expressed, it is generally the more fublime. True eloquence does not confift, as the rhetoricians assure us, in fay. ing great things in a sublime style, but in a simple style ; for there is, properly speaking, no such thing as a sublime style, the fublimity lies only in the things; and when they are not so, the language may be turgid, affected, metaphorical, but not affecting.
What can be more simply expressed than the following extract from a celebrated preacher, and yet what was ever more sublime ? Speaking of the small number of the elect, he breaks out thus among his audience: “ Let me suppose that this was the
jaft hour of us all; that the heavens were open
ing over our heads; that time was passed, and “ eternity begun ; that Jesus Christ in all his glory, “ that man of sorrows in all his glory, appeared on " the tribunal, and that we were assembled here
6 to receive our final decree of life or death eter66 nal !
Let me ask, impressed with terror like you, and not separating my lot from yours, “ but putting myself in the fame fitụation in which
we must all one day appear before God, our judge: let me ask, if Jesus Christ should now ap
pear to make the terrible separation of the just “ from the unjust, do you think the greatest num“ber would be saved ? Do you think the number “ of the elect would even be equal to that of the fin• ners? Do you think, if all our works were exa• mined with justice, would he find ten just per“ sons in this great assembly? Monsters of ingratios tude ! would he find one ?” Such passages as these are sublime in every language. The expression may be less speaking, or more indistinct, but the greatness of the idea still remains. In a word, we may be eloquent in every language and in every style, fince elocution is only an assistant, but not a constitutor of eloquence.
Of what use then, will it be said, are all the precepts given us upon this head both by the anttients and moderns ? I answer, that they cannot make us eloquent, but they will certainly prevent us fron becoming ridiculous. They can seldom procure a single beauty, but they may banish a thousand faults. The true method of an orator is not to attempt always to move, always to affect, to be continually sublime, but at proper intervals to give reft both to his own and the passions of his audience. In these periods of relaxation, or of preparation rather, rules may teach him to avoid any thing low, trivial, or disgusting. Thus criticism, properly speaking, is
intended not to assist those parts which are sublime, but those which are naturally mean and humble, which are composed with coolness and caution, and where the orator rather endeavours not to offend, than attempts to please.
I have hitherto infifted more strenuously on that eloquence which speaks to the passions, as it is a species of oratory almost unknown in England. At the bar it is quite discontinued, and I think with justice. In the senate it is used but sparingly, as the orator speaks to enlightened judges. But in the pulpit, in which the orator should chiefly address the vulgar, it seems strange that it should be entirely laid aside.
The vulgar of England are, without exception, the most barbarous and the most unknowing of any in Europe. A great part of their ignorance may be chiefly ascribed to their teachers, who with the most pretty gentlemari-like serenity deliver their cool difcourses, and address the reason of men, who have never reasoned in all their lives. They are told of cause and effect, of beings self existent, and the universal scale of beings. They are informed of the excellence of the Bangorian controversy, and the absurdity of an intermediate state.
The spruce preacher reads his lucubration without lifting his nose from the text, and never ventures to earn the shame of an enthusiast.
By this means, though his audience feel not one word of all he says, he earns however among his acquaintance the character of a man of fenfe ; among his acquaintance only did I say, nay even with his bishop
The polite of every country have several motives to induce them to a rectitude of action ; the love of virtue for its own fake, the shame of offending, and the desire of pleasing. The vulgar have but one, the enforcements of religion ; and yet those, who
should push this motive home to their hearts, are bafely found to desert their post. They speak to the squire, the philosopher, and the pedant; but the poor, those who really want instruction, are left uninstructed.
I have attended most of our pulpit orators, who, it must be owned, write extremely well upon the text they assume. To give them their due also, they read their sermons with elegance and propriety, but this goes but a very short way in true eloquence. The speaker must be moved. In this, in this alone, our English divines are deficient. Were they to speak to a few calm dispassionate hearers, they certainly use the properest methods of address; but their audience is chiefly composed of the poor, who must be influenced by motives of reward and punishment, and whose only virtues lie in felf-interest or fear.
How then are such to be addressed ? not by studied periods or cold disquisitions ; not by the labours of the head, but the honest spontaneous dictates of the heart. Neither writing a sermon with regular periods and all the harmony of elegant expression ; neither reading it with emphasis, propriety, and deliberation ; neither plealing with metaphor, fimile, or rhetorical fustian ; neither arguing coolly, and untying consequences united in a priori, nor bundling up inductions a posteriori; neither pedantic jargon, nor academical trifling, can persuade the poor ; writing a discourse coolly in the closet, then getting it by memory, and delivering it on Sundays, even that will not do.' What then is to be done ? I know of no expedient to speak ; to speak at once intelligibly, and feelingly, except to understand the language. To be convinced of the truth of the object, to be perfectly acquainted with the subject in view, to prepossess yourself with a low