In a

cism, though it contributes to neatness of composition. It is what follows. thought of any extent, we commonly find some parts intimately united, some slightly, some disjointed, and some directly opposed to each other. To find these conjunctions and disjunctions imitated in the expression is a beauty, because such imitation makes the words concordant with the sense. This doctrine may be illustrated by a familiar example. When we have occasion to mention the intimate connection that the soul hath with the body, the expression ought to be, the soul and body, because the particle the, relative to both, makes a connection in the expression resembling in some degree the connection in the thought; but when the soul is distinguished from the body, it is better to say the soul and the body, because the disjunction in the words resembles the disjunction in the thought.

Two members of a thought connected by their relation to the same action will naturally be expressed by two members of the period governed by the same verb; in which case these members, in order to improve their connection, ought to be constructed in the same manner. This beauty is so common among good writers as to have been little attended to; but the neglect of it is remarkably disagreeable. For example, "He did not mention Leonora, nor that her father was dead." Better thus: "He did not mention Leonora, nor her father's death."

The substance of what is said in this and the foregoing section, upon the method of arranging words in a period, so as to make the deepest impression with respect to sound as well as signification, is comprehended in the following observation: That order of words in a period will always be the most agreeable, where, without obscuring the sense, the most important images, the most sonorous words, and the longest members, bring up the rear.

Hitherto of arranging single words, single members, and single circumstances. But the enumeration of many particulars in the same period is often necessary; and the question is, In what order they should be placed. It does not seem easy, at first view, to bring a subject apparently so loose under any general rule; but, luckily, reflecting upon what is said in the first chapter about order, we find rules laid down to our hand, which leave us no task but that of applying them to the present question. And, first, with respect to the enumerating particulars of equal rank, it is laid down in the place quoted, that as there is no cause for preferring any one before the rest, it is indifferent to the mind in what order they be viewed. And it is only necessary to be added here, that for the same reason it is indifferent in what order they be named. Second, if a number of objects of the same kind, differing only in size, are to be ranged along a straight line, the most agreeable order to the eye is that of an increasing series. In surveying a number of such objects, beginning at the least, and proceeding to greater and greater, the mind swells gradually with the successive objects, and in its progress has a very sensible pleasure. Precisely for the same reason, words expressive of such objects ought to be placed in the same order. The beauty of this figure, which may be termed a climax in sense, has escaped Lord Bolingbroke in the first member of the following period:

Let but one great, brave, disinterested, active man arise, and he will be received, followed, and almost adored.

The following arrangement has sensibly a better effect:

Let but one brave, great, active, disinterested man arise, etc.

Whether the same rule ought to be followed in enumerating men of different ranks seems doubtful; on the one hand, a number of persons presented to the eye

in form of an increasing series is undoubtedly the most agreeable order; on the other hand, in every list of names, we set the person of the greatest dignity at the top, and descend gradually through his inferiors. Where the purpose is to honor the persons named according to their rank, the latter order ought to be followed; but every one who regards himself only, or his reader, will choose the former order. Third, as the sense of order directs the eye to descend from the principal to its greatest accessory, and from the whole to its greatest part, and in the same order through all the parts and accessories till we arrive at the minutest, the same order ought to be followed in the enumeration of such particulars.

When force and liveliness of expression are demanded, the rule is to suspend the thought as long as possible, and to bring it out full and entire at the close; which cannot be done but by inverting the natural arrangement. By introducing a word or member before its time, curiosity is raised about what is to follow; and it is agreeable to have our curiosity gratified at the close of the period: the pleasure we feel resembles that of seeing a stroke exerted upon a body by the whole collected force of the agent. On the other hand, where a period is so constructed as to admit more than one complete close in the sense, the curiosity of the reader is exhausted at the first close, and what follows appears languid or superflous: his disappointment contributes also to that appearance, when he finds, contrary to expectation, that the period is not yet finished. Cicero, and after him Quintilian, recommend the verb to the last place. This method evidently tends to suspend the sense till the close of the period; for without the verb the sense cannot be complete; and when the verb happens to be the capital word, which it frequently is, it ought, at any rate, to be the last, according to another rule, above laid down. I proceed as usual to illustrate this rule by examples. The following period is placed in its natural order.

Were instruction an essential circumstance in epic poetry, I doubt whether a single instance could be given of this species of composition, in any language.

The period thus arranged admits a full close upon the word composition; after which it goes on languidly, and closes without force. This blemish will be avoided by the following arrangement :

Were instruction an essential circumstance in epic poetry, I doubt whether, in any language, a single instance could be given of this species of composition.

Some of our most eminent divines have made use of this Platonic notion, as far as it regards the subsistence of our passions after death, with great beauty and strength of reason.- -Spectator, Number 90.

Better thus:

Some of our most eminent divines have, with great beauty and strength of reason, made use of this Platonic notion, etc.

Men of the best sense have been touched more or less with these groundless horrors and presages of futurity, upon surveying the most indifferent works of nature.-— Ibid, Number 505.

Better,

Upon surveying the most indifferent works of nature, men of the best sense, etc.

She soon informed him of the place he was in, which, notwithstanding all its horrors, appeared to him more sweet than the bower of Mahomet, in the company of his Balsora.— Guardian, No. 167.

Better,

She soon, etc., appeared to him, in the company of his Balsora, more sweet, etc.

The emperor was so intent on the establishment of his absolute power in Hungary, that he exposed the empire doubly to desolation and ruin for the sake of it.— Bolingbroke's "Letters on History," Vol. I., letter vii.

Better,

that for the sake of it he exposed the empire doubly to desolation and ruin.

None of the rules for the composition of periods are more liable to be abused than those last mentioned; witness many Latin writers, among the Moderns especially, whose style, by inversions too violent, is rendered harsh and obscure. Suspension of the thought till the close of the period ought never to be preferred before perspicuity. Neither ought such suspension to be attempted in a long period; because in that case the mind is bewildered amidst a profusion of words: a traveler, while he is puzzled about the road, relishes not the finest prospect:

All the rich presents which Astyages had given him at parting, keeping only some Median horses, in order to propagate the breed of them in Persia, he distributed among his friends whom he left at the court of Ecbatana.- «Travels of Cyrus," Book I.

The foregoing rules concern the arrangement of a single period: I add one rule more concerning the distribution of a discourse into different periods. A short period is lively and familiar: a long period, requiring more attention, makes an impression grave and solemn. In general, a writer ought to study a mixture of long and short periods, which prevent an irksome uniformity, and entertain the mind with a variety of impressions. In particular, long periods ought to be avoided till the reader's attention be thoroughly engaged; and therefore a discourse, especially of the familiar kind, ought never to be introduced with a long period. For that reason the commencement of a letter to a very young lady on her marriage is faulty:

Madam, the hurry and impertinence of receiving and paying visits on account of your marriage being now over, you are beginning to enter into a course of life where you will want much advice to divert you from falling into many errors, fopperies, and follies, to which your sex is subject.-Swift.

See another example still more faulty, in the commencement of Cicero's oration, "Pro Archia Poeta.»

Before proceeding further it may be proper to review the rules laid down in this and the preceding section, in order to make some general observations. That order of the words and members of a period is justly termed natural, which corresponds to the natural order of the ideas that compose the thought. The tendency of many of the foregoing rules is to substitute an artificial arrangement in order to catch some beauty either of sound or meaning for which there is no place in the natural order. But seldom it happens that in the same period there is place for a plurality of these rules: if one beauty can be retained, another must be relinquished; and the only question is, Which ought to be preferred? This question cannot be resolved by any general rule: if the natural order be not relished, a few trials will discover that artificial order which has the best effect; and this exercise, supported by a good taste, will in time make the choice easy. All that can be said in general is, that in making a choice sound ought to yield to signification.

The transposing words and members out of their natural order, so remarkable in the learned languages, has been the subject of much speculation. It is agreed on

all hands that such transposition or inversion bestows upon a period a very sensible degree of force and elevation, and yet writers seem to be at a loss how to account for this effect. Cerceau ascribes so much power to inversion, as to make it the characteristic of French verse, and the single circumstance which in that language distinguishes verse from prose; and yet he pretends not to say that it hath any other effect but to raise surprise; he must mean curiosity, which is done by suspending the thought during the period, and bringing it out entire at the close. This, indeed, is one effect of inversion; but neither its sole effect, nor even that which is the most remarkable, as is made evident above. But waiving censure, which is not an agreeable task, I enter into the matter; and begin with observing that if conformity between words and their meaning be agreeable, it must, of course, be agreeable to find the same order or arrangement in both. Hence the beauty of a plain or natural style, where the order of the words corresponds precisely to the order of the ideas. Nor is this the single beauty of a natural style; it is also agreeable by its simplicity and perspicuity. This observation throws light upon the subject, for if a natural style be in itself agreeable, a transposed style cannot be so; and therefore its agreeableness must arise from admitting some positive beauty that is excluded in a natural style. To be confirmed in this opinion, we need but reflect upon some of the foregoing rules, which make it evident that language, by means of inversion, is susceptible of many beauties that are totally excluded in a natural arrangement. From these premises it clearly follows that inversion ought not to be indulged, unless in order to reach some beauty superior to those of a natural style. It may with great certainty be pronounced that every inversion which is not governed by this rule will appear harsh and strained, and be disrelished by every one of taste. Hence the beauty of inversion when happily conducted; the beauty, not of an end, but of means, as furnishing opportunity for numberless ornaments that find no place in a natural style: hence the force, the elevation, the harmony, the cadence, of some compositions: hence the manifold beauties of the Greek and Roman tongues, of which living languages afford but faint imitations.

From the "Elements of Criticism."

12

DAVID HUME

(1711-1776)

UME'S "Essay on Eloquence" is one of his best, and, indeed, one of the best ever written. If he is less high minded than Fénelon, he has a weight of logic which makes every sentence he writes dignified and impressive. He was born at Edinburgh, April 26th, 1711 (O. S.), and died there, August 25th, 1776. His "Essays, Moral and Political » are perhaps the best of his numerous works, though his reputation with his own generation rested chiefly on metaphysical works which are now seldom read except by specialists. His "History of England" (1754-61) still keeps its place as one of the classics of English history writing.

TH

AN ESSAY ON ELOQUENCE

HOSE who consider the periods and revolutions of human kind as represented in history are entertained with a spectacle full of pleasure and variety, and see, with surprise, the manners, customs, and opinions of the same species susceptible of such prodigious changes in different periods of time. It may, however, be observed that in civil history there is found a much greater uniformity than in the history of learning and science, and that the wars, negotiations, and politics of one age resemble more those of another than the taste, wit, and speculative principles. Interest and ambition, honor and shame, friendship and enmity, gratitude and revenge are the prime movers in all public transactions; and these passions are of a very stubborn and intractable nature in comparison of the sentiments and understanding which are easily varied by education and example. The Goths were much more inferior to the Romans in taste and science than in courage and virtue.

But not to compare together nations so widely different, it may be observed that even this later period of human learning is in many respects of an opposite character to the ancient; and that, if we be superior in philosophy, we are still, notwithstanding all our refinements, much inferior in eloquence.

In ancient times, no work of genius was thought to require so great parts and capacity as speaking in public; and some eminent writers have pronounced the talents even of a great poet or philosopher to be of an inferior nature to those which are requisite for such an undertaking. Greece and Rome produced, each of them, but one accomplished orator; and whatever praises the other celebrated speakers might merit, they were still esteemed much inferior to these great models of eloquence. It is observable that the ancient critics could scarcely find two orators in any age who deserved to be placed precisely in the same rank, and professed the same degree of merit. Calvus, Cœlius, Curio, Hortensius, Cæsar, rose one above another; but the greatest of that age was inferior to Cicero, the most eloquent speaker that had ever appeared in Rome. Those of fine taste, however, pronounced