dress, and the genuine marks of candour and probity. Then we should establish those principles on which we design to argue; and in a clear, easy, sensible manner propose the principal facts we are to build on; insisting chiefly on those circumstances, of which we intend to make use afterwards. From these principles and facts we must draw just consequences; and argue in such a clear and well-connected manner, that all our proofs may support each other and so be the more remembered. Every step we advance, our discourse ought to grow stronger; so that the hearers may gradually perceive the force and evidence of the truth: and then we ought to display it in such lively images and movements as are proper to excite the passions. In order to this we must know their various springs, and the mutual dependence they have one upon another; which of them we can most easily move, and employ to raise the rest; and which of them in fine, is able to produce the greatest effects; and must therefore be applied to, in the conclusion of our discourse. It is ofttimes proper, at the close, to make a short recapitulation, in which the orator ought to exert all his force and skill in giving the audience a full, clear, concise view of the chief topics he has enlarged on. In short, one is not obliged always to follow this method without any variation. There are exceptions and allowances, to be made, for different subjects and occasions. And even in this order I have proposed, one may find an endless variety. But now you may easily see that this method (which is chiefly taken from Tully,) cannot be observed in a discourse that is divided into three parts, nor can it be followed in each particular division. We ought therefore to choose some method, Sir, but such a method as is not discovered, and promised in the beginning of our discourse. Cicero tells us that the best method is generally to conceal the order we follow, till we lead the hearer to it without his being aware of it before. I remember he says, in express terms, that we ought to conceal even the number of our arguments; so that one shall not be able to count them, though they be very distinct in themselves; and that we ought not plainly to point out the division of a discourse. But such is the undistinguishing taste of these latter ages, that an audience cannot perceive any order, unless the speaker distinctly explain it in the beginning; and even intimate to them his gradual advances from the first to the second, and following general heads or subdivisions of his discourse. C. But do not divisions help to support the attention, and ease the memory of the hearers? It is for their better instruction that the speaker divides his discourse. A. A division chiefly relieves the speaker's memory. And even this effect might be much better obtained by his following a natural order without any express division: for the true connexion of things best directs the mind. Our common divisions are of use to those only who have studied, and been trained up to this method in the schools. And if the common people retain the division better than the rest of the sermon; it is only because they hear it often repeated: but, generally speaking, they best remember practical points, and such things as strike their senses and imagination. B. The order you propose may be proper enough for some subjects: but it cannot be fit for all for, we have not always facts to lay down. A. When we have none, we must do without them: but there are very few subjects into which they might not be aptly introduced. One of Plato's chief beauties is, that in the beginning of his moral pieces he usually gives us some fragment of history, or some tradition that serves as the foundation of his discourse. This method would far more become those who preach religion; which is entirely founded upon tradition, history, and the most ancient records. Indeed most preachers argue but weakly; and do not instruct people sufficiently, because they do not trace back things to these sources. B. We have already given you too much trouble, Sir, and I am almost ashamed to detain you longer but I wish heartily you would allow me to ask you a few more questions concerning the rules of public dis course. A. With all my heart: I am not yet weary you may dispose, as you please, of the little time I have left. B. Well then, you would have all false and trifling ornaments entirely banished from discourse. Now, though you touched upon this point before, pray shew me by some sensible examples how to distinguish such false beauties from those that are solid and natural. A. Do you love quavering notes in music? Are you not better pleased with those brisk, significant notes that describe things, and express the passions? B. Yes, certainly: for, quavers are of no use they only amuse the ear, and do not affect the mind. Our music was once full of them; and was therefore very weak and confused but now we begin to refine our taste, and to come nearer the music of the ancients; which is a kind of passionate declamation that acts powerfully upon the soul. A. I knew that music, of which you are L *False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, ESSAY ON CRITICISM. so good a judge, would serve to make you understand what concerns eloquence. There ought to be a kind of eloquence in music itself; and in both these arts we ought to reject all false and trilling beauties. Do you not perceive now that by a trilling discourse I mean the humming jingle of languid, uniform periods; a chiming of words that returns perpetually, like the burden of a song? This is the false eloquence that resembles bad music. B. I wish, Sir, you could make it a little plainer still. A A. The reading of good and bad orators will more effectually form your taste, on this point, than all the rules in the world. However it were easy to satisfy you by some pertinent examples. I will not mention any modern ones; though we abound in false ornaments. That I may not offend any person, let us return to Isocrates who is the standard of those nice and florid harangues that are now in vogue. Did you ever read his famous panegyric on Helen ? B. Yes I have read it some time ago. A. How did you like it? B. Extremely well. I thought I never saw so much wit, elegance, sweetness, invention, and delicacy in any composure. I own to you that Homer himself (whom I read afterwards,) did not seem to have so much spirit as he. But now that you have shown me what ought to be the true aim of |