COMPOSITION.

IN a Rhetorical Grammar, it may be justly expected that Composition, which forms so essential a part of Rhetoric, should not be entirely omitted: yet so much has been written on this part of the art, and so ably has it been treated both by the ancients and moderns, that I might well excuse myself by referring my readers to Aristotle, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Quintilian, and Cicero, among the former, and to Blair, Campbell, and Priestley, among the latter, -for every thing that learning, genius, and experience, have produced upon the subject. What I can offer must be little more than gleanings, after so copious a harvest; and if even these gleanings should be claimed as the property of those who have preceded me, I shall willingly forego my claim, and be content to rank in this field as an humble compiler of a few scattered hints which have occurred to me in a long course of teaching a part of Rhetoric which has not been so much laboured by my predecessors,

In the first place, we must lay it down as a maxim of eternal truth, that good sense is the foundation of all good writing. Understand a subject well, and you can scarcely write ill upon

it. This, however, must be understood only of works of science; for works of imagination, besides a thorough acquaintace with the subject we write upon, require a quick discernment of the happiest manner of presenting a subject to the mind. This opens a wide field to the powers of man, as it takes in all the beauties of poetry and eloquence, beauties which, though founded in nature and good sense, owe almost all their force to the imagination and address of the writer.

Rhetoric, or the Art of Persuasion, therefore, seems to demand a union of both these powers, Good sense must be embellished with appropriate language, vivid imagery, and agreeable variety; and the imagination must be tempered by good taste, sound judgment, and chaste expression. In short, the rhetorician should above all things attend to the advice of the poet:

And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
Pope's Essay on Criticism.

The first thing to be attended to in all com position intended for delivery is, when we have fixed upon a subject, to form a plan of treating it.

The parts which compose a regular oration are these six-the exordium, or introduction the state and division of the subject; the narration, or explication; the reasoning, or arguments; the pathetic parts; and the conclusion. It is not necessary that these must enter into every public discourse, or that they must always be admitted in the order in which they are here set down. There are many excellent discourses in which some of these parts are altogether

omitted: but as they are the natural and constituent parts of a regular oration, and as in every discourse some of them must occur, it is agreeable to our present purpose to speak of

each of them distinctly.

The introduction should be easy and natural: it should always be suggested by the subject; nor should it be planned till after the writer has meditated in his own mind the substance of his discourse. In short, it should be like the preface to a book, which, though presenting it, self first, is generally written last; for which reason I have seen a whimsical writer who placed it at the end instead of the beginning of his work. The introduction is seldom the place for vehemence or passion: the audience must be gradually prepared, before the speaker can venture on strong impassioned sentiments. A becoming modesty, therefore, is almost essential to the composition as well as the delivery of this part of an oration.

In dividing a subject, we must be always careful to follow the order of nature, beginning with the most simple points, such as are most easily understood and necessary to be first discussed, and proceeding thence to those which are built upon the former, and which suppose them to be known. In short, the subject should be divided into those parts which grow out of each other, and into which they are most na-. turally and easily dissolved,

The Narration or Explication is that part of an oration which gives the true state of the question, unfolds every particular which belongs to it, and prepares the minds of the hearers to attend to the arguments which are to be pro

duced in favour of the side we adopt. This part of the oration should be simple, nervous, and comprehensive, and the language plain, precise, and without ornament.

The Argumentative part of the oration must be considered as the strong bulwark of the rhetorical fortification. The greatest care must be taken to select such arguments as are the best calculated to prove that what we advance is either true, right, or fit, or that it is profitable and good. Truth, duty, and interest, are the three great subjects of discussion among mankind. But the arguments employed upon either of them are generally distinct; and he who mixes them all under one topic, which he calls his argument, as is too frequently done in sermons, will render his reasoning indistinct and inelegant.

With respect to the different degrees of strength in arguments, the common as well as the most natural rule is to advance in the way of climax. Nor can I agree with Dr. Blair, or any other rhetorician, that any state of the question will authorise an orator to begin with his strongest argument, and end with his weakest. The last impression is generally what decides in popular addresses, and this should be nicely attended to. Besides, when once a point is proved, the multiplying of arguments only tends to weaken it; for it ought to be observed, that a number of weak arguments sel dom convince the mind so much as one strong one; and, therefore, that we ought to be cautious how we lay too great stress on little things, as scarcely any thing so much implies a weakness of understanding. A great number of weak

reasons ought therefore to be carefully avoided, lest we fall into the fault ridiculed by Pope in his Dunciad:

Explain upon a thing till all men doubt it,
And write about it Goddess and about it.

When argument and reasoning have produced their full effect, then, and not till then, the pathetic is admitted with the greatest force and propriety. When the subject will admit of the pathetic (for all subjects do not), a speaker should cautiously avoid giving his hearers warning that he intends to excite their passions: every previous preparation of this kind chills their sensibility. The orator should steal imperceptibly upon the feelings of his hearers, and engage their passions before they perceive he is addressing them.

To succeed in the pathetic, it is necessary to attend to the proper language of the passions. This, if we consult nature, we shall ever find is unaffected and simple. It may be animated with bold and strong figures, but it will have no ornament or finery. There is a material diffe rence between painting to the imagination and to the heart. The one may be done with deliberation and coolness; the other must always be rapid and ardent. In the former, art and labour may be suffered to appear; in the latter, no proper effect can be produced unless it seem to be the work of nature only. Hence all digressions should be avoided which may interrupt or turn aside the swell of passion. Hence comparisons are always dangerous, and commonly quite improper in the midst of the pathetic. It is also to be observed, that emotions which are violent