THE

PRINCIPLES OF ELOQUENCE.

SECTION I.

DESIGN OF THIS DISCOURSE.

In presenting the public with this feeble production, I propose, with a just diffidence of my own abilities, to lay before them some observations which have occurred to me in the course of my reading or oratorial compositions, respecting the art of Eloquence, which it is the study of my life to cultivate.

They were written at first merely for my own private use. If I have sometimes given a decided opinion, I entreat the reader to remember that I speak to him with freedom, yet without presumption, and that I myself am far from considering the result of my observations as laying down rules of the art.

The general idea which I form, at first view, of the eloquence of the pulpit, is this:

SECTION II.

A DESCRIPTION OF THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.

A MAN of sensibility discovers his friend about to take a step contrary to his interest or duty. He is

desirous of opposing it, but he is afraid of repelling confidence by a hasty contradiction. He gently insinuates himself into his mind. He does not at first oppose. He inquires. He is not regarded. He requires only to be heard, and instantly he states his reasons, and offers convincing arguments with modest diffidence. No answer is returned. He then complains, not of obstinacy, but of silence. He meets all objections and refutes them. Animated by the tender zeal of friendship, he is far from attempting to shine by his wit, or to dishearten by his reproaches. He speaks only the language of affection. At length, assured of having arrested the attention of his friend, he uncovers the precipice under his feet, and shows him all its depth, in order to alarm his imagination, that weakest, and yet most predominant of our faculties.

He thus succeeds in moving him. He now descends to entreaty, and gives an unrestrained vent to his sighs and tears. The work is done; the heart

yields, and his friend is fully persuaded. They both embrace; and it is to the eloquence of friendship that reason and virtue are indebted for the honour of the victory.

Christian orators! behold your model. Let that compassionate man, who should be affected with sympathetic tenderness in order to convince, be you; and that friend, who should be moved in order to be undeceived, be your auditory.

SECTION III.

OF THE MEANS OF PERSUADING A LARGE ASSEMBLY.

It is only necessary, in fact, for the orator to keep one man in view amid the multitude that surrounds him; and, excepting those enumerations which require some variety in order to paint the passions, conditions, and characters, he ought merely, while composing, to address himself to that one man, whose mistakes he laments, and whose foibles he discovers. This man is to him as the genius of Socrates,* standing continually at his side, and by turns interrogating him or answering his questions. This is he whom the orator ought never to lose sight of in writing, till he obtains a conquest over his prepossessions. The arguments which will be sufficiently persuasive to overcome his opposition, will equally control a large assembly.

The orator will derive farther advantages from a numerous concourse of people, where all the impressions made at the time will convey the finest triumphs of the art, by forming a species of action and reaction between the auditory and the speaker.†

* LACTANTIUS observes (de Origine Erroris, ii., 14) that "SOCRATES affirmed that there was a demon or tutelar angel constantly near him, which had kept him company from a child, and by whose beck and instruction he guided his life."

t "The very aspect of a large assembly, engaged in some debate of moment, and attentive to the discourse of

It is in this sense that Cicero is right in saying that 66 no man can be eloquent without a multitude to hear him."* The auditor came to hear a discourse : the orator attacks him; accuses him; makes him abashed; addresses him at one time as his confidant, at another as his mediator or his judge. See with what address he unveils his most concealed passions; with what penetration he shows him his most intimate thoughts; with what energy he annihilates his best-framed excuses! The culprit repents. Profound attention, consternation, confusion, remorse, all announce that the orator has penetrated, in his retired meditations, into the recesses of the heart. Then, provided no ill-timed sally of wit follow to blunt the strokes of Christian eloquence, there may be in the church two thousand auditors, yet there will be but one thought, but one opinion : and all those individuals united form that ideal man whom the orator had in view while composing his discourse.

one man, is sufficient to inspire that man with such elevation and warmth, as both gives rise to strong expressions, and gives them propriety. Passion easily rises in a great assembly where the movements are communicated by mutual sympathy between the orator and the audience."BLAIR'S Lectures, vol. ii., p. 54, 4to.

* Orator sine multitudine audiente eloquens esse non potest.-Brutus, 338.

SECTION IV.

ADVANTAGES OF AN ORATOR'S STUDYING HIMSELF.

BUT, you may ask, where is this ideal man, composed of so many different traits, to be found, unless we describe some chimerical being? Where shall we find a phantom like this, singular but not outré, in which every individual may recognise himself, although it resembles not any one? Where shall we find him? In your own heart. Often retire there. Survey all its recesses. There you will trace both the pleas for those passions which you will have to combat, and the source of those false reasonings which you must point out. To be eloquent, we must enter within ourselves. The first productions of a young orator are generally too farfetched. His mind, always on the stretch, is making continual efforts, without his ever venturing to commit himself to the simplicity of nature, until experience teach him that, to arrive at the sublime, it is, in fact, less necessary to elevate his imagination than to be deeply impressed with his subject.

If you have studied the sacred books; if you have observed men; if you have attended to writers on morals, who serve you instead of historians; if you have become familiar with the language of orators, make trial of your eloquence upon yourself; become, so to speak, the auditor of your own discourses; and thus, by anticipating the effect which they ought to produce, you will easily delineate true characters; you will perceive that, notwithstanding the shades