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C.-Which? is it not

A. That an orator ought to have the style almost of a poet; that almost points out the difference between them.

C.-I understand you. But you do not come to the point you proposed to explain to us.

A.- Which?

C.-The rule for distinguishing betwixt witty turns and solid ornaments.

A. You will soon comprehend that. For of what use in discourse can any ornament be that does not tend either to prove, to paint, or to affect?

C. It may serve to please.

A. We must distinguish here between such ornaments as only please and those that both please and persuade. That which serves to please in order to persuade is good and solid; thus we are pleased with strong and clear arguments. The just and natural emotions of an orator have much grace and beauty in them; and his exact and lively painting charms us. So that all the necessary parts of eloquence are apt to please, but yet pleasing is not their true aim. The question is, whether we shall approve such thoughts and expressions as may perhaps give an amusing delight; but, in other respects, are altogether useless: and these I call quaint turns, and points of wit. You must remember now that I allow all those graces of style, and delicate thoughts that tend to persuasion; I only reject those vain, affected ornaments that the self-conceited author uses, to paint his own character, and amuse others with his wit, instead of filling their minds entirely with his subject. In fine, I think we ought to condemn not only all jingle and playing with words, as a thing extremely mean and boyish, but even all witty conceits and fanciful turns; I mean such thoughts as only flash and glitter upon the fancy, but contain nothing that is solid and conducive to persuasion.

From "Dialogues on Eloquence.»>

ELOCUTION, GESTURE, AND DELIVERY

you approve then of many different gestures, and various inflections of the voice?

You

A. It is that variety which gives so much grace and force to the action of an orator; and made Demosthenes far excel all others. The more easy and familiar that the voice and action appear, when the speaker only narrates, explains, or instructs, the more apt he will be to surprise and move the audience in those parts of his discourse, where he grows suddenly vehement, and enforces lofty, affecting sentiments by a suitable energy of voice and action. This due pronunciation is a kind of music, whose beauty consists in the variety of proper tones and inflections of the voice, which ought to rise or fall with a just and easy cadence, according to the nature of the things we express. It gives a light as well as a grace to language, and is the very life and spirit of discourse.

B.— According to your notions of elocution, it is an art unknown to our greatest orators. The preacher that you and I heard, about a fortnight ago, did not observe your rule, nor even seem to attempt it. Except the first thirty words of his sermon, he spake always in the same tone; and the only sign I could perceive of his being more vehement in some parts of his discourse than in others, was that when he seemed earnest he spoke faster than at other times.

A.- To me, sir, his voice seemed to have two tones; though they were well adapted to his words. You observed justly enough that he did not follow the rules

of pronunciation; and I believe he did not perceive the need of them. His voice is naturally melodious; and though it be ill managed, it is, however, pleasing enough. But you see plainly that it does not make those strong, affecting impressions on the mind that it would produce, if it had such various inflections as are proper to express the speaker's sentiments. Such preachers are like fine clocks, that give a clear, full, soft, agreeable sound; but after all they are clocks only of no significancy; and having no variety of notes, they are incapable of harmony or eloquence. B. But were there not many graces in the rapidity of his discourse?

A.—Yes; and I grant that in some affecting, lively passages one ought to speak faster than usual. But it is a great fault to speak with so much precipitation that one cannot stop himself, nor be distinctly understood. The voice and action bear some resemblance to verse. Sometimes we must use such a slow and grave measure as is fit to describe things of that character; and sometimes a short impetuous one, to express what is quick and ardent. To use always the same degree of action, and the same tone of voice, is like prescribing one remedy for all distempers. But we ought to excuse the uniformity of that preacher's voice and action. For, besides his possessing many excellent qualities, the fault we complain of is the natural effect of his style. We have already agreed that the modulation of the voice should be exactly suited to the words. Now his style is even, and uniform, without the least variety. On the one hand, it is not familiar, insinuating, and popular; and, on the other, it has nothing in it that is lively, figurative, and sublime; but it consists of a constant flow of words, that press one after the other; containing a close and well-connected chain of reasoning, on clear ideas. In a word, he is a man that talks good sense very correctly. Nay, we must acknowledge that he has done great service to the pulpit; he has rescued it from the servitude of vain declaimers, and filled it himself with much strength and dignity. He is very capable of convincing people; but I know few preachers who persuade and move them less than he doth. If you observe carefully, you will even find that his way of preaching is not very instructive, for besides his not having a familiar, engaging, pathetic manner of talking, (as I observed before,) his discourse does not in the least strike the imagination, but is addressed to the understanding only. It is a thread of reasoning that cannot be comprehended without the closest attention. And seeing there are but few hearers capable of such a constant application of mind, they retain little or nothing of his discourse. It is like a torrent that hurries along at once, and leaves its channel dry. In order to make a lasting impression on people's minds, we must support their attention, by moving their passions; for dry instructions can have but little influence. But the thing that I reckon least natural in this preacher is the continual motion he gives his arms, while there is nothing figurative nor moving in his words. The action used in ordinary conversation would suit his style best; or his impetuous gesture would require a style full of sallies and vehemence; and even then he behooved to manage his warmth better, and render it less uniform. In fine, I think he is a great man-but not an orator. A country preacher who can alarm his hearers, and draw tears from them, answers the end of eloquence better than he. B.- But how shall we know the particular gestures and the inflections of voice that are agreeable to nature?

A. I told you before that the whole art of good orators consists in observing what nature does when unconstrained. You ought not to imitate those haranguers who choose always to declaim, but will never talk to their hearers. On the contrary, you should address yourself to an audience in such a modest, respectful, engaging manner, that each of them shall think you are speaking to him in particular. And this is the use and advantage of natural, familiar, insinuating tones of voice. They ought always to be grave and becoming; and even strong and pathetic when

the subject requires it. But you must not fancy that you can express the passions by the mere strength of voice, like those noisy speakers who by bawling and tossing themselves about, stun their hearers, instead of affecting them. If we would succeed in painting and raising the passions, we must know exactly what movements they inspire. For instance, observe what is the posture, and what the voice of one whose heart is pierced with sorrow, or surprised at the sight of an astonishing object; remark the natural action of the eyes; what the hands do; and what the whole body. On such occasions nature appears, and you need only follow it; if you must employ art, conceal it so well under an exact imitation that it may pass for nature itself. But to speak the truth, orators in such cases are like poets who write elegies or other passionate verses; they must feel the passion they describe, else they can never paint it well. The greatest art imaginable can never speak like true passion and undisguised nature. So that you will always be but an imperfect orator if you be not thoroughly moved with those sentiments that you paint, and would infuse into others.

From "Dialogues on Eloquence.»

ISAAC WATTS

(1674-1748)

HE celebrated Dr. Watts, now remembered chiefly as the author of "Let Dogs Delight to Bark and Bite," was a man of great learning and a profound thinker. His work, "Improvement of the Mind," contains much that deserves to be kept in lasting remembrance. It shows that he was deeply impressed with the need for more accurate thought and more nearly adequate expression, especially in the pulpit. He was born at Southampton, England, July 17th, 1674. He was a "Dissenter," and his work in the pulpit was done chiefly as the pastor of an independent church in London. His "Logic" was published in 1725, and his essay on "Improvement of the Mind" in 1741. These are his chief works in prose. His hymns and his "Divine and Moral Songs for Children," published in 1720, show that he had developed the lyrical faculty as it has seldom been developed by English hymn writers. He died November 25th, 1748.

T

THE ELOQUENCE OF COMMON SENSE

HE most necessary and most useful character of a style fit for instruction is, that it be plain, perspicuous, and easy. And here I shall first point out all those errors in a style which diminish or destroy the perspicuity of it, and then mention a few directions how to obtain a perspicuous and easy style.

The errors of style which must be avoided by teachers are these that follow:The use of many foreign words, which are not sufficiently naturalized and mingled with the language which we speak or write. It is true that in teaching the sciences in English we must sometimes use words borrowed from the Greek and Latin, for we have not in English names for a variety of subjects which belong to learning; but when a man affects, upon all occasions, to bring in long sounding words from the ancient languages, without necessity, and mingles French and other outlandish terms and phrases, where plain English would serve as well, he betrays a vain and foolish genius, unbecoming a teacher.

Avoid a fantastic learned style, borrowed from the various sciences, where the subject and matter do not require the use of them. Do not affect terms of art on every occasion, nor seek to show your learning by sounding words and dark phrases: this is properly called pedantry.

Young preachers, just come from the schools, are often tempted to fill their sermons with logical and metaphysical terms in explaining their text, and feed their hearers with sonorous words of vanity. This scholastic language perhaps may flatter their own ambition, and raise a wonderment at their learning among the staring

multitude, without any manner of influence toward the instruction of the ignorant, or the reformation of the immoral or impious. These terms of art are but the tools of an artificer, by which his work is wrought in private; but the tools ought not to appear in the finished workmanship.

There are some persons so fond of geometry, that they bring in lines and circles, tangents and parabolas, theorems, problems, and postulates, upon all occasions. Others who have dealt in astronomy borrow even their nouns and their verbs in their common discourse from the stars and planets. Instead of saying Jacob had twelve sons, they tell you Jacob had as many sons as there are signs in the zodiac. If they describe an inconstant person, they make a planet of him, and set him forth in all his appearances, direct, retrograde, and stationary. If a candle be set behind a screen, they call it eclipsed; and tell you fine stories of the orbit and the revolutions, the radii and the limb or circumference of a cart wheel.

Others again dress up their sense in chemical language. Extracts and oils, salts and essences, exalt and invigorate their discourses: a great wit with them is sublimated spirit, and a blockhead is a caput mortuum. A certain doctor in his bill swells in his own idea, when he tells the town that he has been counselor to the counselors of several kings and princes; that he has arrived at the knowledge of the green, black, and golden dragon, known only to magicians and hermetic philosophers. It would be well if the quacks alone had a patent for this language.

There are some fine affected words that are used only at court, and some peculiar phrases that are sounding or gaudy, and belong only to the theatre; these should not come into the lectures of instruction; the language of poets has too much of metaphor in it to lead mankind into clear and distinct ideas of things: the business of poesy is to strike the soul with a glaring light, and to urge the passions into a flame by splendid shows, by strong images, and a pathetic vehemence of style; but it is another sort of speech that is best suited to lead the calm inquirer into just conceptions of things.

There is a mean, vulgar style, borrowed from the lower ranks of mankind, the basest characters, and meanest affairs of life; this is also to be avoided, for it should be supposed that persons of liberal education have not been bred up within the hearing of such language, and consequently they cannot understand it; besides that it would create very offensive ideas, should we borrow even similes for illustration from the scullery, the dunghill, and the jakes.

An obscure and mysterious manner of expression and cloudy language is to be avoided. Some persons have been led by education, or by some foolish prejudices, into a dark and unintelligible way of thinking and speaking; and this continues with them all their lives, and clouds and confounds their ideas. Perhaps some of these may have been blessed with a great and comprehensive genius, with sublime nat ural parts, and a torrent of ideas flowing in upon them; yet for want of clearness in the manner of their conception and language, they sometimes drown their own subject of discourse, and overwhelm their argument in darkness and perplexity: such preachers as have read much of mystical divinity, and imitated its manner of expression, have many times buried a fine understanding under the obscurity of such a style.

A long and tedious style is very improper for a teacher, for this also lessens the perspicuity of it. Some learned writers are never satisfied unless they fill up every sentence with a great number of ideas and sentiments; they swell their propositions to an enormous size by explications, exceptions, and precautions, lest they should be mistaken, and crowd them all into the same period: they involve and darken their discourse by many parentheses, and prolong their sentences to a tiresome extent, beyond the reach of a common comprehension. Such sort of writers or speakers may

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