{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4252", "width": "2560", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "Pass FBlQrO^\\nBook S 7", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4133", "width": "2142", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "X.\\nAN\\n*6\\nABRIDGMENT\\nOF\\nLeffiures on Rhetorick.\\nBS-\\nHUGH BLAIR, D.D.\\nRE? IS ED AND CORRECTED.\\nPRINTED BY J. T. BUCKINGHAM,\\nFOR THOMAS \u00c2\u00a3ff ANDREWS.\\nSOLD AT THEIR BOOKSTORE, NO, 4 5, NEWBURY-STRET\\nI\\nO ober, 1S05,", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "eA", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "ADVERTISEMENT.\\nT,\\nHE want of a system of Rhetorick upon a concise\\nplan, and at an easy price, will, it is presumed, render,\\nthis little volume acceptable to the publick. To col-\\nlect knowledge, which is scattered over a wide extent*\\ninto a small compass, if it has not the merit of origin-\\nality, has at least the advantage of being useful*\\nMany, who are terrified at the idea of travelling over\\na ponderous volume in search of information, will\\nyet set out on a short journey in pursuit of science\\nwith alacrity and profit. Those for whom the follow-\\ning Essays are principally intended, will derive pecul-\\niar benefit from the brevity with which they are con-\\nveyed. To youth, who are engaged in the rudiments\\nof learning whose time and attention must be occu-\\npied by a variety of subjects, every branch of science\\nshould be rendered as concise as possible. Hence the\\nattention is not fatigued, nor the memory overloaded*.\\nThat a knowledge of Rhetorick forms a very ma-\\nterial part of the education of a polite scholar must\\nbe universally allowed* Any attempt, therefore, how-;\\never imperfect, to make so useful an art more gener-.\\nally known, has claim to that praise which is the re-\\nward of good intention. With this the Editor will,\\nbe sufficiently satisfied since being serviceable to oth-\\ners is the most agreeable method of becoming ccxi?.\\ntented with ourselves,", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nINTRODUCTION PAGE\\nOn Taste 8\\nCriticism. Genius. Pleasures of Taste. Sublim-\\nity in Objects 13\\nSublimity in Writing 22\\nBeauty and other Pleasures of Taste SI\\nOrigin and Progress of Language S9\\nRise and Progress of Language and of Writing 47\\nStructure of Language 52\\nStructure of Language. English Tongue 57\\nStyle. Perspicuity and Precision 64\\nStructure of Sentences 68\\nThe same Subject 73\\nStructure of Sentences. Harmony 79\\nOrigin and Nature of Figurative Language 86\\nMetaphor 91\\nHyperbole 96\\nPersonification and Apostrophe 98\\nComparison, Antithesis, Interrogation, Exclama-\\ntion, and other Figures of Speech 102\\nAntithesis 105\\nInterrogation and Exclamation 106\\nVision and Climax 107\\nGeneral Characters of Style. Diffuse, Concise\\nFeeble, Nervous\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Dry, Plain, Neat, Elegant,\\nFlowery 108\\nStyle. Simple. Affected, Vehement. Directions\\nfor forming a proper Style 114?\\nCritical Examination of Mr. Addison s Style in\\nNo. 411 of the Spectator 121\\nEloquence. Origin of Eloquence. Grecian Elo-\\nquence. Demosthenes 130\\nRoman Eloquence. Cicero. Modern Eloquence 136\\nEloquence of Popular Assemblies 141\\nEloquence of the Bar 145\\nEloquence of the Pulpit 151", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS. d\\nConduct of a Discourse in all its Parts. Introduc- page\\ntion, Division, Narration, and Explication 156\\nThe Argumentative Part of a Discourse, the Pa-\\nthetick Part, and the Peroration 162\\nPronunciation or Delivery 167\\nMeans of improving in Eloquence 176\\nComparative Merit of the Ancients and Moderns 3 83\\nHistorical Writing 186\\nPhilosophical Writing and Dialogue 190\\nEpistolary Writing 192\\nFictitious History 192\\nNature of Poetry. Its Origin and Progress\\nVersification 194\\nEnglish Versification 196\\nPastoral Poetry 198\\nLyrick Poetry 203\\nDidaclick Poetry 205\\nDescriptive Poetry 207\\nThe Poetry of the Hebrews 211\\nEpick Poetry 215\\nHomer s Iliad and Odyssey 220\\nThe ^Eneid of Virgil 224\\nLucan s* Pharsalia 227\\nTasso s Jerusalem 229\\nThe Lusiad of Camoens 231\\nThe Telemachus of Fenelon 232\\nThe Henriade of Voltaire 234\\nMilton s Paradise Lost 236\\nDramatick Poetry. Tragedy- 239\\nGreek Tragedy 250\\nFrench Tragedy 251\\nEnglish Tragedy 253\\nComedy 255\\nAncient Comedy 258\\nSpanish Comedy 259\\nFrench Comedy 260\\nEnglish Comedy 261\\nA", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION,\\nA PROPER acquaintance with the circle of\\nLiberal Arts is requifite to the ftudy of Rheto-\\nric^ and Belles Lettres. To extend the knowl-\\nedge of them muft be the firft care of thofe,\\nwho wifh either to write with reputation, or fo\\nto exprefs themfelves in publick, as to command\\nattention. Among the ancients it was an\\neilential principle, that the orator ought to be\\nconverfant in every department of learning*\\nNo art indeed can be contrived which can ftamp\\nmerit on a compofition, rich or fplendid in ex-\\npreffion, but barren or erroneous in fentimenU\\nOratory, it is true, has often been difgraced by\\nattempts to eft ablifh a falfe criterion of its value*\\nWriters have endeavoured to fupply want of\\nmatter by graces of compofition and courted\\nthe temporary applaufe of the ignorant, inftead\\nof the lafting approbation of the difcerning. But\\ninch impofture muft he fhort and tranfitory.\\nThe body and fubftance of any valuable compo-\\nfition muft be formed of knowledge and fcience.\\nRhetorick completes the ftructui e and adds the\\npolifh but firm and iolid bodies only are able\\nto receive it.", "height": "4080", "width": "2387", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION* 7\\nAmong the learned it has long been a con.\\ntefted, and remains ftill an undecided queftion,\\nwhether Nature or Art contribute moft toward\\nexcellence in writing and difcourfe. Various\\nmay be the opinions with refpeft to the manner,\\nin which Art can moft effectually furnifh aid\\nfor fuch a purpofe and it were prefumption\\nto affert, that rhetorical rules, how juft foever,\\nare fufficient to form an orator. Private ap-\\nplication and ftudy, fuppofmg natural genius\\nto be favourable, are certainly fuperiour to any\\nfyftem of publick inftru ion. But, though rules\\nand inftru ions cannot effeft every thing which\\nis requifite, they may be of confiderable ufe.\\nIf they cannot infpire genius, they can give it\\ndirection and affiftance. If they cannot make\\nbarrennefs fruitful, they can correct redundan-\\ncy. They prefent proper models for imitation\\nthey point out the principal beauties which\\nought to be ftudied, and the chief faults which\\nought to be avoided; and confequently tend to\\nenlighten Tafle, and to conduct Genius from\\nunnatural deviations into its proper channel.\\nThough they are incapable of producing great\\nexcellencies they may at leait lerve to prevent\\nconfideiable miitakes.\\nIn the education of youth, no objeft has ap-\\npeared more important to wife men in every age,\\nthan to excite in them an early relifh for the", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "3 INTRODUCTION.\\nentertainments of Tafte. From thefe to the\\ndifcharge of the higher and more important du-\\nties of life the tranfition is natural and eafy. Of\\nthofe minds, which have this elegant and liberal\\nturn, the rnoft pleafing- hopes may be entertain-\\ned. On the contrary, entire infenfibility to elo-\\nquence* poetry, or any of the fine arts, may\\njuftly be confidered as a bad fymptom in youth\\nand fuppofes them inclined to low gratifications,\\nor capable of being engaged only in the com-\\nmon purfuits of life.\\nImprovement of Tafte feems to be more or\\nlefs connefted with every good and virtuous\\ndifpofition. By giving frequent exercife to the\\ntender and humane paffions, a cultivated tafte\\nincreafes ttnl.bility yet at the fame time it\\ntends to foften the more violent and angry\\nemotions.\\nIngenues didic ijf-, fid;. liter attgs\\nEmollii ?no es i tejih It ejfe f$ gs-\\nThefe pohih d aft$ have humanized mankind,\\nSoHcn d the rude, and calnrd the boifterous mind.\\nPoetry, Eloquence, and Hiftory continually\\nexhibit to our view thofe elevated fentiments\\nand high examples, which tend to nourifh in our\\nminds publick fpirit, love of glory, contempt of\\nexternal fortune, and admiration of every thing\\ntruly great, noble and illuftrious.", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "%tttum on motorics*,\\nABRIDGED.\\nTASTE.\\nJL ASTE is the power of receiving pleafure\\n11 or pain from the beauties or deformities of Nature\\nand of Art. It is a faculty common in fome de-\\ngree to all men* Through the circle of human na-\\nture, nothing is more general, than the relifh of Beau-\\nty of one kind or other of what is orderly, propor-\\ntioned, grand, harmonious, new, or fprightly. Nor\\ndoes there prevail lefs generally a difrelifh of what-\\never is grofs, difproportioned, disorderly, and difcord-\\nnni. In children the rudiments of Tafte appear very\\nearly in a thoufand inftances in their partiality for\\nregular bodies, their fondnefs for pictures and ftatues,\\nand their warm attachment to whatever is new or\\naftonifliing. The mod ftupid peafants receive pleafure\\nfrom tales and ballads, and are delighted with the\\nbeautiful appearances of nature in the earth and\\nheavens. Even in the deferts of America, where hu-\\nman nature appears in its moft uncultivated (late^ the\\nlavages have their ornaments of drefs, their war and\\ntheir death fongs, their harangues and their orators.\\nThe principles of Tafte muft therefore be deeply\\nfounded in the human mind. To have fome difcern-\\nrnent of Beauty is no lefs eflential to man, than tot\\npoflefs the attributes of fpeech and reafon*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "fcO TASTE.\\nThough no human being can be entirely devoid off\\nthis faculty, yet it is poffeffed in very different degrees.\\nIn fome men only faint glimmerings of Tafte are\\nvifible the beauties, which they relifh are of the\\ncoarff ft kind and of thefe they have only a weak and\\nconfufed impreffibn while in others Tafte rifes to an\\nacute difcernment, and a lively enjoyment of the mod\\nrefined beauties.\\nThis inequality of Tafte among men is to be af-\\ncribed undoubtedly in part to the different frame of\\ntheir natures to nicer organs, and more delicate in-\\nternal powers, with which fome are endued- beyond\\nothers 5 yet it is owing ftili more to culture and edu-\\ncation. Tafte is certainly one of the mod improva-\\nble faculties of our nature. We may eafily be con-\\nvinced of the truth of this affertion by only reflecting,\\non that immenfe fuperiority, which education and\\nimprovement give to civilized above barbarous nations\\nin refinement of Tafte and on the advantage, which\\nthey give in the fame nation totliofe, who have {fuell-\\ned the liberal arts, above the rude and illiterate vulgar.\\nReafon and good fenfe have fo extenfive an influence\\non ail the operations and decifions of Tafte, that a\\ncompletely good Tafte may well be confidered, as a\\npower compounded of natural fen ability to beauty and\\nof improved underftanding. To be fatisfied of this,\\nwe may obferve, that the greater part of the produc-\\ntions of Genius are no other than imitations of na-\\nture; representations of the chara ers, anions, or\\nmanners of men. Now the pleafure we experience\\nfrom fuch imitations or representations is founded on\\nmere Tafte but to judge, whether they be proper*", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "TASTE* XI\\nly executed, belongs to the underftanding, which com-\\npares the copy with the original.\\nIn reading, for inftance, the iEneid of Virgil, a\\ngreat part of our pleafure arifes from the proper con-\\nduit of the plan or ftory from all the parts being\\njoined together with probability and due connexion\\nfrom the adoption of the characters from nature, the\\ncorrespondence of the fentiments to the characters,\\nand of the ftyle to the fentiments. The pleafure,\\nwhich is derived from a poem fo conduced, is felt or\\nenjoyed by Tafte, as an internal fenfe but the dif-\\ncovery of this conduit in the poem is owing to reafon\\nand the more reafon enables us to difcover fuch pro-\\npriety in the conduct, the greater will be our pleafure.\\nThe conftituents of Tafte, when Brought to its molt\\nperfect ftate, are two, Delicacy and Corre\u00c2\u00a3tnefs.\\nDelicacy of Tafte refers principally to the perfection\\nof that natural fenfibility, on which Tafte is foundedo\\nIt implies thofe finer organs or powers, which enable\\nus to difcover beauties, that are concealed from a vul-\\ngar eye. It is judged of by the fame marks, that we\\nemploy in judging of the delicacy of an external fenfe.\\nAs the goodnefs of the palate is not tried by ftrong\\nflavours, but by a mixture of ingredients, where, not-\\nwithftanding the confufioi*, we remain fenfible of\\neach fo delicacy of internal Tafte appears by a quick\\nand lively fenfibility to its fined, moil compounded,\\nor moft latent objects.\\nCorrectnefs of Tafte refpe s the improvement this\\nfaculty receives through its connexion with the un\u00c2\u00ab\\nderftanding. A man of corre\u00c2\u00a3t tafte is one, who is\\nnever impofed on by counterfeit beauties who carries\\nalways in his own mind that ftandard of good fenfe.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "t% TASTE.\\nwhich he employs in judging of every thing. He ef-\\ntimates with propriety the relative merit of the feveral\\nbeauties, which he meets in any work of genius re-\\nfers them to their proper claffes affigns the principles\\nas far as they can be traced, whence their power of\\npleafing is derived and is pleafed himfelf precifely in\\nthat degree, in which he ought, and no more.\\nTafte is certainly not an arbitrary principle, which\\nis fubje to the fancy of every individual, and which\\nadmits no criterion for determining, whether it be\\ntrue or falfe. Its foundation is the fame in every hu-\\nman mind. It is built upon fentiments and percep-\\ntions, which are infeparable from our nature and\\nwhich generally operate with the fame uniformity, as\\nour other intelle ual principles. When thefe fenti-\\nments are perverted by ignorance or prejudice, they\\nmay be rectified by reafon. Their found and natural\\nftate is finally determined by comparing them with\\nthe general Tafte of mankind. Let men declaim as\\nmuch as they pleafe, concerning the caprice and un-\\ncertainty of Tafte it is found by experience, that\\nthere are beauties, which if difplayed in a proper light,\\nhave power to command- lading and univerfal admira-\\ntion. In every compofition, what interefts the imag-\\nination, and touches the heart, gives pleafure to all\\nages and nations. There is a certain firing, which\\nbeing properly ftruck, the human heart is fo made, as\\nto accord to it.\\nHence the univerfal teftimony, which the mod im-\\nproved nations of the earth through a long feries of\\nages have concurred to bellow on fome few works of\\ngenius fuch as the Iliad of Homer, and the iEneid\\nof Virgil. Hence the authority, which fuch works", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "CRITICISM. 13\\nhave obtained, as ftandards of poetical compofition\\nfince by them we are enabled to collect, what the fenfe\\nof mankind is with refpe\u00c2\u00a3i to thofe beauties, which\\ngive them the higheft pleafure, and which, therefore,\\npoetry ought to exhibit. Authority or prejudice may\\nin one age or country give a fnort-lived reputation to\\nan indifferent poet, or a bad artift but when foreign-\\ners, or pofterity examine his works, his faults are dis-\\ncovered, and the genuine Tafte of human nature is\\nfeen. Time overthrows the illufions of opinion, but\\neftablifhes the decifions of nature.\\nCRITICISM. GENIUS. PLEASURES OF TASTE-\\nSUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.\\ni RUE Criticism is the application of Tafte\\nand of good fenfe to the feveral fine arts. Its defign\\nis to diftinguifh, what is beautiful and what is faulty\\nin every performance. From particular inftances it\\nafcends to general principles and gradually forms\\nrules or conclufions concerning the feveral kinds of\\nBeauty in works of Genius.\\nCriticifm is an art, founded entire.ly on experience\\non the obfervation of fuch beauties, as have been\\nfound to pleafe mankind mod generally. For exam-\\nple, Ariftotle s rules concerning the unity of adlion\\nin dramatick and epick compofition were not firft dif-\\ncovered by logical reafoning, and then applied to po-\\netry but they were deduced from the practice of\\nHomer and Sophocles. They were founded upon ob-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "14 GENIUS.\\nferving the fuperiour pleafure, which we derive from\\nthe relation of an adion, which is one and entire,\\nbeyond what we receive from the relation of Scatter-\\ned and unconnected fads.\\nA fuperiour Genius, indeed, will of himfelf, unin-\\nftruded, compofe in fuch manner, as is agreeable to\\nthe mod important rules of Criticifm for, as thefe\\nrules are founded in nature, nature will frequently\\nfuggeft them in pradice. Homer was acquainted\\nwith no fyftem of the art of poetry. Guided by\\nGenius alone, he compofed in verfe a regular ftory,\\nwhich all fucceeding ages have admired. This, how-\\never, is no argument againft the ufefulnefs of Criti-\\ncifm. For fince no human genius is perfed, there is\\nno writer, who may not receive afiiftance from critical\\nobfervations upon the beauties and faults of thofe,\\nwho have gone before him. No rules indeed can fup-\\nply the defeds of genius, or infpire it, where it is\\nwanting but they may often guide it into its proper\\nchannel they may corred its extravagances, and\\nteach it the moft juft and proper imitation of nature.\\nCritical rules are intended chiefly to point out the\\nfaults, which ought to be avoided. We muft be in-\\ndebted to nature for the produdion of eminent\\nbeauties.\\nGenius is a word, which in common acceptation\\nextends much farther, than to objeds of Tafte, It\\nCgnifies that talent or aptitude, which we receive\\nfrom nature, in order to excel in any one thing what-\\never. A man is faid to have a genius for mathe-\\nmaticks as well as a genius for poetry a genius for\\nwar, for politicks, or for any mechanical employment", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "?LEAStfRES OF TASTE. 1 5\\nGenius may be greatly improved by art and ftudy\\nbut by them alone it cannot be acquired. As it is a\\nhigher faculty than Tafte, it is ever, according to the\\ncommon frugality of nature, more limited in the\\nfphere of its operations. There are perfons, not un-\\nfrequently to be met, who have an excellent Tafte\\nin feveral of the polite arts fuch, as mufick, poetry*\\npainting, and eloquence but an excellent performer\\nin all thefe arts is very feldom found or rather is\\nnot to be looked for. A univerfal Genius, or one\\nwho is equally and indifferently inclined toward fever-\\nal different profeffions and arts, is not likely to excel\\nin any. Although there may be fome few exceptions,\\nyet in general it is true, that, when the mind is whol-\\nly directed toward fome one object exclufively of\\nothers, there is the faireft profpeit of eminence in\\nthat, whatever it may be. Extreme heat can be pro-\\nduced, only when the rays converge to a fingle point.\\nYoung perfons are highly interefted in this remark\\nfince it may teach them to examine with care, and to\\npurfue with ardour, that path, which nature has mark-\\ned out for their peculiar exertions.\\nThe nature of Tafte, the nature and importance of\\nCriticifm, and the diftindtion between Tafte and Gen*\\nius, being thus explained the fources of the Pleas-\\nures of Tafte fhall next be confidered. Here a very\\nextenfive field is opened no lefs, than all the Pleas-\\nures of the Imagination, as they are generally called,\\nwhether afforded us by natural objects, or by imita-\\ntions and defcriptions of them. It is not, however,\\nneceffary to the purpofe of the prefent work, that all\\nthefe be examined fully the pleafure, which we re-\\nceive from difcourfe or writing, being the principal", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "i\u00c2\u00a3 PLEASURES OF TASTE.\\nobject of them. Our defigu is to give fome opening\\ninto the Pleafures of Tafte in general, and to infift\\nmore particularly upon Sublimity and Beauty.\\nWe are far from having yet attained any fyftem\\nconcerning this fubjedt. A regular inquiry into it\\nwas firft attempted by Mr. Addifon, in his Eflay on\\nthe Pleafures of the Imagination. By him thefe\\nPleafures are ranged under three heads, Beauty, Gran-\\ndeur, and Novelty. His fpeculations on this fubj.tt\\nif not remarkably profound, are very beautiful and\\nentertaining and he has the merit of having difcov-\\nered a track, which was before untrodden. Since hh\\ntime the advances, made in this part of philosophic-\\nal criticifm, are not confiderable which is owing,\\ndoubtlefs, to that thinnefs and fubtility, which are\\ndifcovered to be properties of all the feelings of TaPce.\\nIt is difficult to enumerate the feveral objects, which\\ngive pleafure to Tafte it is more difficult to define all\\nthofe, which have been difcovered, and to range them\\nin proper elafies and, when we would proceed far-\\nther, and inveftigate the efficient caufes of the pleafure,\\nwhich we receive from fuch obje\u00c2\u00a3ls, here we find our-\\nfelves at the greateft lofs. For example, we ail learn\\nby experience that fome figures of bodies appear more\\nbeautiful than others on farther inquiry we difcover\\nthat the regularity of fome figures and the graceful\\nvariety of others are the -foundation of the beauty,\\nwhich we difcern in them but, when we endeavour\\nto go a ftep beyond this, and inquire, why regularity\\nand variety produce in our minds the fenfation of\\nbeauty any reafon, we can affign, is extremely im-\\nperfect. Thofe firft principles of internal fenfation\\nliatur:. appears to have ftudioufly concealed*", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN OEJECTS. IJ\\nIt is fome confolation, however, that, although the\\nefficient caufe is obfeure, the final caufe of thofe fenfa-\\ntions lies commonly more open and here we mud\\nobferve the ftrong impreffion which the powers of\\nTafte and Imagination are calculated to give us of the\\nbenevplence of our Creator. By thefe powers he hath\\nwidely enlarged the fphere of the pleafures of human\\nlife and thofe too of a kind the moft pure and inno-\\ncent. The neceffary purpofes of life might have been\\nanfwered, though our fenfes of feeing and hearing\\nhad only ferved to diftinguifh external objects, with-\\nout giving us any of thofe refined and delicate fenfa-\\ntions of beauty and grandeur, with which we are now\\nfo much delighted.\\nThe pleafure, which arifes from fublimity or gran-\\ndeur, deferves to be fully confidered becaufe it has a\\ncharacter more precife and diftinctly marked, than\\nany other of the pleafures of the imagination, and be-\\ncaufe it coincides more directly with our main fubject.\\nThe fimpleft form of external grandeur is feen in the\\nvaft and boundlefs profpe\u00c2\u00a3ts, prefented to us by na-\\nture fuch as widely extended plains, of which the\\neye can find no limits the firmament of heaven or\\nthe boundlefs expanfe of the ocean. All vaftnefs\\nproduces the impreffion of fublimity. Space, however,\\nextended in length, makes not fo ftrong an impreflion,\\nas height or depth. Though a boundlefs plain is a\\ngrand object yet a lofty mountain, to which we look\\nup, or an awful precipice or tower, whence we look\\ndown oa objects below, is ftill more fo. Theexceffive\\ngrandeur of the firmament arifes from its height, add-\\ned to its boundlefs extent and that of the ocean,\\nnot from its extent alone, but from the continual mo-\\nB 2", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "IS SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.\\ntion and irrefiftible force of that mafs of waters.\\nWherever fpace is concerned, it is evident that am-\\nplitude, or greatnefs of extent, m one dimenfion or\\nother, is neceflary to grandeur. Remove all bounds\\nfrom any object, and you immediately render it fub-\\nlime. Hence infinite fpace, endlefs numbers, and e-\\nternal duration, fill the mind with great ideas.\\nThe mod copious fource of fublime ideas feems to\\nbe derived from the exertion of great power and force*\\nHence the grandeur of earthquakes and burning moun-\\ntains j of great conflagrations of the boifterous ocean j.\\nof the tempeftuous ftorm of thunder and lightning v\\nand of all the unufual violence of the elements. A\\nftream, which glides along gently within its banks, is\\na beautiful objeft but, when it rufhes down with the\\nimpetuofity and noife of a torrent, it immediately be-\\ncomes a fublime one. A race-horfe is viewed with\\npleafure but it is the war-horfe, u whofe neck is\\nclothed with thunder, that conveys grandeur in its\\nidea. The engagement of two powerful armies, as it\\nis the higheft exertion of human ftrength, combines,\\nvarious fources of the fublime and has confequently\\nbeen ever considered, as one of the moft linking and\\nmagnificent fpettacles, which can be either prefented\\nto the eye, or exhibited to the imagination in defcrip-\\ntion.\\nAll ideas of the folemn and awful kind, and even,\\nbordering on the terrible* tend greatly taaflinVthc fub-\\nlime fuch as darknefs, folitude, and filence. The\\nfirmament, when filled with ftars, fcattered in infinite\\nnumbers and with fplendid profufion, ftrikes the im-\\nagination with more awful grandeur, than when we\\nbehold it enlightened by all the fplendour of the fun*", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. X\u00c2\u00a3\\nThe deep found of a great bell, or the {hiking of a\\ngreat clock, is at any time grand and awful j but when\\nheard amid the filence and ftillnefs of night, they be-\\ncome doubly fo. Darknefs is very generally applied\\nfor adding fublimity to all our ideas of the Deity.\\nHe maketh darknefs his pavilion he dwelleth in\\nthe thick cloud. Thus Milton\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2How oft amid\\nThick clouds and dark does heaven s all-ruling Sirs\\nChoofe to r elide, his glory unobfcur d\\nAnd with the majefty of darknefs round\\nCircles his throne\\nObfcurity is favourable to the fublime. The de-\\nfcriptions given us of appearances of fupernatural\\nbeings, carry fome fublimity though the conception,\\nwhich they afford us, be confufed and indiftin\u00c2\u00a3t.\\nTheir fublimity arifes from the ideas, which they al-\\nways convey, of fuperiour power and might connected\\nwith awful obfcurity. No ideas, it is evident, are fo\\nfublime, as thofe derived from the Supreme Being, the\\nmod unknown, yet the greateii of all obje\u00c2\u00a3ts the in-\\nfinity of whofe nature and the eternity of whofe du-\\nration, added to the omnipotence of his power, though\\nthey furpafs our conceptions, yet exalt them to the\\nhigheft.\\nDiforder is alfo very compatible with grandeur\\nnay, frequently heightens it. Few things, which are\\nexa\u00c2\u00a3lly reg^.ar and methodical, appear fublime. We\\nfee the limits on every fide we feel ourfelves con-\\nfined there is no room for any confiderable exertion\\nof the mind. Though exa\u00c2\u00a3t proportion of parts en-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "2\u00c2\u00a9 SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS^\\nters often into the beautiful, it is much difregarded m\\nthe fublime. A great mafs of rocks, thrown together\\nby the hand of nature with wildnefs and confufion,\\nftrikes the mind with more grandeur, than if they had\\nbeen adj lifted to each other with the moil accurate\\nfymmetry.\\nThere yet remains one clafs of Sublime Obje s to\\nbe mentioned, which may be termed the Moral or\\nSentimental Sublime, arifing from certain exertions\\nof tfye mind y {torn certain affections and actions of\\nour fellow creatures. Thefe will be found to be\\nchiefly of that clafs which comes under the name of\\nMagnanimity or Heroifm and they produce an ef-\\nfect very fimilar to what is produced by a view of\\ngrand obje s in nature, filling the mind with admi-\\nration and railing it above itfelf. Wherever in fome\\ncritical and dangerous fituation- we behold a. man un-\\ncommonly intrepid, and reding folely upon himfelf 5.\\nfuperiour to paflion and to fear animated by fome\\ngreat principle to contempt of popular opinion, of\\nfelfiih intereit, of dangers, or of death we are there\\nftruck with a fenfe of the fublime. Thus Porus*\\nwhen taken by Alexander after a gallant defence, be*\\ning afked, in what manner he would be treated an-\\nfwered, Like a King and Csefar, chiding the pilots\\nwho was afraid to fet out with him in a ftorm,\\nQuid times Cseiarem vehis, are good inftances*\\nof the Sentimental Sublime.\\nThe fublime in natural and in moral objects is pre-\\nfented to us in one view, and compared together, ia\\nthe following beautiful paflage of Akenfide s Pleafurefc\\nof the Imagination", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 2*\\nLook then abroad through nature to the range\\nOr planets funs, and adamantine spheres,\\nWheeling, uiifhaken, thro the void immenfe\\nAnd fpe-ik, O Mm does this capacious fcene*\\nW-th half that kindling majeHy, dilate\\nThy (trong conception, as when Brutus rofe\\nRefulgent from the ftroke of Csefar s fate\\nAmid the crowds of patriots and his arm\\nAloft extending, like eternal Jove,\\nW. isn guilt brings i the thunder, call d aloud\\nOn Tuliy s name, ana (hook hiscrimfon fteel,\\nAnd hade the father of his country hail 1\\nFo lo the tyrant proftrate on the duft j\\nAnd Rome again is free.\\nIt has been imagined by an ingenious Author, that\\nir is the fource of the fublime and that no ol\\nruve this character, but fuch as produce impref-\\nof pain and danger. Many terrible objects are\\nindee- lighly fublime nor does grandeur refufe alli-\\ntrpee he idea, of danger. But the fublime does\\nnot coaiiit wholly in modes of danger and pain. In\\nmany grand qbjeEb, there is not the lead coincidence\\nwith terror as in the magnificent profpecl: of widely\\nextended plains and of the ftarry firmament or ia\\nthe moral difpofitions and fen.timents, which we con-\\ntemplate with high admiration. In many painful and\\nterrible obje s, alfo, it is evident, there is no fort of\\ngrandeur, f he amputation of a limb., or the bite of\\na fnake, is in the higheft degree terrible but they\\nare deftitute of all claim whatever to fublimity. It\\nfeems juft to allow that mighty force of power, whether\\nattended by terror or not, whether employed in pro-\\ntecting or alarming us, has a better title, than any\\nthing yet mentioned, to be the fundamental quality", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "%2 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.\\nof the fublime. There appears to be no fublime ob~\\nje into the idea of which ftrength anc} force either\\nenter not dire\u00c2\u00a3Uy, or are not at leaft intimately aflb-\\nciated by conducting our thoughts to fome aftonifhing\\npower, as concerned in the production of the obje\u00c2\u00a3t.\\nSUBLIMITY IN WRITING.\\nX HE fbundationof the Sublime In Compolition\\nmull always be laid in the nature of the obje\u00c2\u00a3i de-\\nfcribed. Unlefs it be fuch an obje\u00c2\u00a3t, as, if presented\\nto our fight, if exhibited to us in reality, would excite\\nideas of that elevating, that awful, and magnificent\\nkind, which we call Sublime the description, how-\\never finely drawn, is not entitled to be placed under\\nthis clafs. This excludes all obj.e\u00c2\u00a3b, which are merely\\nbeautiful, gay or elegant. Befides, the objevSl murt not\\nonly in itfelf be fublime, but k mad be placed before\\nus in fuch a light, as is bed calculated to give us a\\nclear and full impreflion of it it mud be defcribed\\nwith ftrength, concifenefs and fimplicity. This de-\\npends chiefly upon the lively impreflion, which the\\npoet or orator has of the obje\u00c2\u00a3t, which he exhibits v\\nand upon his being deeply affe\u00c2\u00a3ted and animated by\\nthe fublime idea, which he would convey. If his own\\nfeeling be languid, he can never infpire his reader\\nwith any ftrong emotion. Inftances, which on thi\\nfubje\u00c2\u00a3t are extremely neceflary, will clearly (how the\\nimportance of all thefe requifites.\\nIt is chiefly among ancient authors, that we are to\\nlook for the mod ftriking inltances of the fublime*", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. lg\\nThe early ages of the world and the uncultivated (late\\nof fociety were peculiarly favourable to the emotions\\nof fublimity. The genius of men was then very prone\\nto admiration and aftonifhment. Meeting continually\\nnew and ftrange objects, their imagination was kept\\nglowing, and their paffions were often raifed to the\\nutmofl. They thought and expreffed themfelves bold-\\nly without reftraint. In the progrefs of fociety the\\ngenius and manners of men have undergone a change\\nmore favourable to accuracy, than to ftrength or fub-\\nlimity.\\nOf all writings, ancient or modern, the facred\\nfcriptures afford the mod ftriking inftances of the\\nfublime. In them the defcriptions of the Supreme\\nBeing are wonderfully noble, both from the grandeur\\nof the object, and the manner of reprefenting it.\\nWhat an aflemblage of awful and fublime ideas is pre-\\nfented to us in that paffage of the eighteenth Pfalm,\\nwhere an appearance of the Almighty is described\\nu In my diftrefs I called upon the Lord he heard my\\nu my voice out of his temple, and my cry came before\\nu him. Then the earth fhook and trembled 5 the\\nu foundations of the hills were moved becaufe he\\nwas wroth. He bowed the heavens, and came\\ndown, and darknefs was under his feet and he\\ndid ride upon a cherub, and did fly yea, he did\\nu fly upon the wings of the wind. He made dark-\\nM nefs his fecret place his pavilion round about him\\ncc were dark waters and thick clouds of the fey.\\nThe circumftances of darknefs and terror are here ap-\\nplied with propriety and fuccefs for heightening the\\nfublime.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "24 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.\\nThe celebrated inflance, given by Longinus, from\\nIVofes, God faid, Let there be light and there was\\nlight, belongs to the true fublime and its fublim-\\nity arifes from the ilrcng conception, it conveys, of\\nan effort of power producing its effect with the utmoft\\nfpeed and facility, t A fimilar thought is magnificently\\nexpanded in the following paffage of Ifaiah (chap,\\nxxiv. 24, 27, 28) Thus faith the Lord, thy Redeem-\\nu er, and he that formed thee from the womb I\\nam the Lord, that maketh all things 5 that ftretch-\\ncc eth forth the heavens alone that fpreadeth abroad\\nfC the earth by myfelf that faith to the deep, be\\nu dry, and I will dry up thy rivers that faith of\\nCyrus, he is my fhepherd, and {hall perform all\\nc my pleafure even faying to Jerufalem, thou (halt\\nu be built and to the temple, thy foundation fhall\\nbe laid.\\nHomer has in all ages been univerfally admired for\\nfublimity and he is indebted for much of his gran-\\ndeur to that native and unaffected fimplicity which\\ncharacterizes his manner. His defcriptions of con-\\nflicting armies the fpirit, the fire, the rapidity, which\\nhe throws into his battles, prefent to every reader of\\nthe Iliad frequent inftances of fublime writing. The\\nmajefty of his warlike fcenes is often heightened til\\na hicrh degree by the introdu ion of the gods. In\\nthe twentieth book, where all the gods take part in\\nthe engagement, according as they feverally favour\\neither the Grecians or the Trojans, the poet appears\\nto put forth one of his highefl efforts, and the defcrip-\\ntion riles into the mod awful magnificence. All na-\\nture appears in commotion. Jupiter thunders in the\\nheavens Neptune ftrikes the earth with his trident", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 25\\nthe (hips, the city, and the mountains fhake the\\nearth trembles to its centre Pluto ftarts from his\\nthrone, fearing, left the fecrets of the infernal regions\\nfhould be laid open to the view of mortals. We {hall\\ntranferibe Mr. Pope s tranflatipn of this paflage\\nwhich, though inferiour to the original, is highly ani-\\nmated and fublime.\\nBut, when the powers defcending fwelPd the fight,\\nThen tumult rofe, fierce rage, and pale affright.\\nNew thro the trembling fliores Minerva calls,\\nAnd now fhe thunders from the Grecian walls.\\nMars, hov ring o er his Troy, his terror fhrcuds\\nIn gloomy tempefb, and a night of clouds\\nNow thro 9 each Trojan heart he fury pours\\nWith voice divine from Ilion s topmoft towers\\nAbove the fire of gods his thunder rolls,\\nAnd peals on peals redoubled rend the poles.\\nBeneath, (lern Neptune \u00c2\u00a3hakes the folid ground.\\nThe forefts wave, the mountains nod around\\nThro all her fummits tremble Ida s woods,\\nAnd from their fources boil her hundred floods\\nTroy s turrets tetter on the rocking plain,\\nAnd the tofs d navies beat the heaving main.\\nDeep in the difrnal region of the dead\\nTh infernal monarch rear d his horrid head,\\nLeapt from his throne, left Neptune s arm fhould lay\\nHis dark dominions open to the day,\\nAnd pour in light on Pluto s drear abodes,\\nAbhorr d by men, and dreadful e en to gods.\\nSuch wars th* immortals wage fuch horrors rend\\nThe world s vafl concave, when the gods contend.\\nConcifenefs and finiplicity will ever be found eilen-\\ntial to fublime writing. Simplicity is properly oppof*\\ned to ftudied and profufe ornament y and concifenefs\\nto fuperfluous expreffion. It will eafily appear, why a", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "%6 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.\\ndefe\u00c2\u00a3l either in concifenefs or fimplicity is pec uliarly\\nhurtful to the fublime. The emotion excited in the\\nmind by fome great or noble obje\u00c2\u00a3t, raifes it confider-\\nably above its common pitch. A fpecies of erithufi-i\\nafm is produced, extremely pleafing, while it lafts\\nbut the mind is tending every moment to fink into its\\nordinary ftate. When an author has brought us, or\\nis endeavouring to bring us into this ftate, if he mul-\\ntiply words unneceffarily if he deck the fublime ob-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3t on all (ides with glittering ornaments nay, if he\\nthrow in any one decoration, which falls in the leaft\\nbelow the principal image that moment he changes\\nthe key he relaxes the tenfion of the mind the\\nftrength of the feeling is emafculated the beautiful\\nmay remain but the fublime is extinguifhed. Ho-\\nmer s defcription of the nod of Jupiter, as fhaking the\\nheavens, has been admired in all ages, as wonderfully\\nfublime. Literally tranflated, it runs thus He\\nfpoke, and bending his fable brows, gave the awful\\nu nod while he (hook the celeftial locks of his im-\\nmortal head, all Olympus was {haken. Mr. Pope\\ntxanflates it thus\\nHe fpoke and awful bends his sable brows,\\nShakes his ambrofial curls, and gives the nod,\\nThe ftamp of fate, and fan ion of a God\\nHigh heaven with trembling the dread fignal took,\\nAnd all Olympus to its centre fliook.\\nThe image is expanded, and attempted to be beau-\\ntified but in reality it is weakened* The third line\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nThe ftamp of fate, and fanction of a God, is en-\\ntirely expletive, and introduced only to fill up the\\nrhyme for it interrupts the defcription, and clogs the", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 2?\\nimage. For the fame reafon Jupiter is reprefented,\\nas fnaking his locks, before he gives the nod Shakes\\nhis ambrofral curls, and gives the nod f which is\\ntrilling and infignificant whereas in the original the\\nfnaking of his hair is the confequence of his nod, and\\nmakes a happy pi urefque circumftance in the de~\\nfcription.\\nThe boldnefs, freedom, and variety of our blank\\nverfe are infinitely more propitious than rhyme, to\\nall kinds of fublime poetry. The fulled proof of this\\nis afforded by Milton an author, whofe genius led\\nhim peculiarly to the fublime. The firft and fecond\\nbooks of Paradife Loft are continued examples of it.\\nTake, for inftanee, the following noted defcription of\\nSatan, after his fall, appearing at the head of his in-\\nfernal hofts\\n-He, above the reft,\\nIn fliape and gefture proudly eminent,\\nStood, like a tower his form had not yet loft\\nAU her original brightnefs, nor appear d\\nJLefs than archangel ruin d, and the excefs\\nOf glory obfcur d As when the fun, new rifen,\\nLooks through the horizontal mifty air,\\nShorn of his beams or, from behind the moon,\\nIn dim eclipfe, difaftrous twilight flieds\\nOn half the nations, and with fear of change\\nPerplexes raonarchs. Darkened fo, yet ihone\\nAbove them all th archangeh\\nHere various fources of the fublime are joined to-\\ngether the principal object fuperlatively great a\\nhigh, fuperiour nature, fallen indeed, but raifing itfeif\\nagainft diftrefs the grandeur of the principal object\\nheightened by connecting it with fo noble -an idea, as", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "28 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.\\nthat of the fun fuffering an eclipfe this picture,,\\nfhaded with all thofe images of change and trouble,\\nof darknefs and terror which coincide fo exquifitely\\nwith the fuhlime emotion and the whole expreffed\\nin a ftyle and verfification eafy, natural, and fimple,\\nbut magnificent.\\nBefide fimplicity and concifenefs, ftrength is eflen^-\\ntially neceffary to fublime writing. Strength of de-.\\nfcription proceeds in a great meafure from concifenefs\\nbut it implies fomething more, namely, a judicious\\nchoice of circumftances in the defcription fuch as\\nwill exhibit the object in its full and moll ftriking\\npoint of view. For every object has feveral faces, by\\nwhich it may be prefented to us, according to the\\ncircumftances with which we furround it 5 and it\\nwill appear fuperlatively fublime, or not, in pro-\\nportion as thefe circumftances are happily chofen,\\nand of a fublime kind. In this, the great art of the\\nwriter confifts and indeed the principal difficulty of\\nfublime defcription. If the defcription be too general,\\nand di veiled cf circumftances the object is fhewn\\nin a faint light, and makes a feeble impreffion, or no\\nimpreiTion^ on the reader. At the time, if any trivial\\nor improper circumftances be mingled, the whole is,\\ndegraded.\\nThe nature of that emotion, which is aimed at by\\nfublime. defcription, admits no mediocrity, and cannot\\nfubfift in a middle ftate but muft either highly tranf-\\nport us or, if unfuecefsful in the execution, leave us\\nexceedingly difgufted. We attempt to rife with the\\nwriter; the imagination is awakened, and put upon\\nftretch but it ought to be fupported and, if in\\n:he mlJft of its effort it be darted unexpectedly, k", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.\\n2 5\\nfalls with a painful (hock. When Milton in his bat-\\ntle of the angels defcribes them, as tearing up moun-\\ntains, and throwing them at one another there are in\\nhis description, as Mr. Addifon has remarked, no cir-\\ncumftances, but what are truly fublime\\nFrom their foundations loos ning to and fro,\\nThey pluck d the feated hills with all their load,\\nRocks, waters, woods and by the fliaggy tops\\nUplifting, bore them in their hands.\\nThis idea of the giants throwing the mountains,\\nwhich is in itfelf ib grand, Claudian renders burlefque\\nand ridiculous by the {ingle circumflance of one of\\nhis giants with the mountain Ida upon his fhoul-\\nders, and a river, which flowed from the mountain,\\nrunning down the giant s back, as he held it up in that\\npofture. Virgil in his defcription of mount JEtna, is\\nguilty of a flight inaccuracy of this kind. After fev-\\neral magnificent images, the poet concludes with per-\\nfonifying the mountain under this figure,\\nEruclans vifcera cum gemitu\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00acl belching up its bowels with a groan j which, by\\nmaking the mountain referable a fick or drunken per-\\nfon, degrades the majefty of the defcription. The\\ndebating effect, of this idea will appear in a ftronger\\nlight, from obferving what figure it makes in a poem\\nof Sir Richard Blackmore who, through ari extrava-\\ngant perverfity of tafte, felecled it for the principal\\ncircumflance in his defcription and thereby, as Dr\u00c2\u00bb\\nArburthnot humoroufly obferves, reprefented the\\nmountain as in a fit of the cholick*\\nc", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "3\u00c2\u00b0 SUBLIMIT? IN WRITING\\n./Etna and all the burning mountains find\\nTheir kindled (lores with inbred ftorms of wind\\nBlown up to rage, and roaring out complain,\\nAs torn with inward gripes and torturing pain\\nLabouring, they caft their dreadful vomit round,\\nAnd with their melted bowels fpread the ground.\\nSuch inflances fhow how much the fublime de-\\npends upon a proper feledtion of cireumftances and\\nwith how great care every circumftance muft be avoid-\\ned, which, by approaching in the fmalleft degree to\\nthe mean, or even to the gay or trifling, changes the\\ntone of the emotion.\\nWhat is commonly called the fublime ftyle, is for-\\nthe mod part a very bad one, and has no relation\\nwhatever to the true Sublime. Writers are apt to im-\\nagine that fplendid words, accumulated epithets, and a:\\ncertain fwelling kind of expreffion, by rifing above\\nwhat is cuflomary or vulgar, conftitute the fublime\\nyet nothing is in reality more faife. In genuine in-\\nflances of fublime writing nothing of this kind appearg.\\niS God faid, let there be light j and there was light. 1\\nThis is linking and fublime but put it into what is\\ncommonly called the fublime ftyie The Sovereign,\\nArbiter of nature, by the potent energy of a fingle\\nJ word, commanded the light to exift j? and, as Boi-\\nleau, jufily obferved, the ftyle is indeed raifed, but the\\nthought is degraded. In general it may be obferved,\\nthat the fublime lies in the thought, not in the ex-\\npression and, when the thought is really noble, it\\nwill generally clothe itfelf in. a native majeily of lan-\\nguage.\\nThe faults, oppofite to the Sublime, are principally\\ntwo, the Frigid and the Bombaft. The Frigid qonfilb", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "BEAUTY AND OTHER PLEASURES OF TASTE. Jt\\nin degrading an objeft or fentiment, which is fublime\\nin itfelf, by a mean conception of it or by a weak,\\nlow, or puerile defcription of it. This betrays entire\\nabfence, or at leaft extreme poverty, of genius. The\\nBombaft lies in forcing a common or trivial objecT: out\\nof its rank, and in labouring to raife it into the fub-\\nlime or in attempting to exalt a fublime objeft be-\\nyond all natural bounds..\\nBEAUTY AND OTHER PLEASURES OF\\nTASTE..\\nBEAUTY next to Sublimity affords the higheft\\npleafure to the jm aviation. The emotion, which it\\nraifes, is eafily diftinguifhed from that of fublimity.\\nIt is of a calmer kind more gentle and foothing\\ndoes not elevate the mind fo much, but produces a\\npleafmg ferenity. Sublimity excites a feeling, too\\nviolent to be lafting the pleafure proceeding from;\\nBeauty admits longer duration; It extends alfo to a\\nmuch greater variety of objects than fublimity to\\na variety indeed fo great, that, the fenfitions which,\\nbeautiful objects excite, differ exceedingly, not in de-\\ngree only, but alfo in kind, from, each other. Hence\\nno word is ufed in a more undetermined fignification\\nthan Beauty, It is applied to almoft every external\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3l, which pleafes the eye or the ear to many of\\nthe graces of writing to feveral difpofitions of the\\nmind nay, to fome objects of ab (tract fcience. We\\nfgeak frequently of a beautiful tree or flower y a.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "JZ BEAUTY AND OTHER\\nbeautiful poem a beautiful chara er and a beau-\\ntiful theorem in mathematicks.\\nColour feems to afford the fimpleft inftance of Beau*\\nty. Adbciation of ideas, it is probable, has fome in-\\nfluence ort the pleafure, which we receive from col-\\nours. Green, for example, may appear more beautiful\\nfrom being connected in our ideas with rural fcenes\\nand profpeCts white with innocence blue with the\\nferenity of the iky. Independently of affociations- of\\nthis fort^ all that we can farther obferve refpe ing-\\ncolours is, that thofe, chofen for Beauty, are common-\\nly delicate, rather than glaring. Such are the feathers\\nof feveral kinds of birds, the leaves of flowers, and\\ntl\\\\\u00c2\u00a3 fine variation of colours, (hown by the iky at the\\nriling and fetting of the fun.\\nFigure opens to us forms of Beauty more complex:\\nand diverfiSed. Regularity fi rft offers itfelf as a\\nfource of Beauty. By a regular figure is meant one\\nwhich we perceive to be formed according to fome\\ncertain rule, and not left arbitrary or loofe in the con-\\nftruction of its parts. Thus a circle, a fquare, a tri-\\nangle, or a hexagon, gives pleafure to the eye by its\\nregularity, as a beautiful figure yet a certain graceful\\nvariety is found to be a much more powerful principle\\nof Beauty. Regularity feems to appear beautiful to-\\nns chiefly, if not entirely, on account of its fuggefting\\nthe ideas of fitnefs, propriety, and Life, which have\\nalways a more intimate connexion with orderly and\\nproportioned forms, than with thofe which appear\\nnot conltrucled according to any certain rule. Na-\\nture, who is the mod graceful artift, hath, in all her\\nornamental works, purfued variety with an apparent\\nnegleft of regularity. Cabinets, doors, and windows", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "PLEASURES OF TASTE gg\\nare made after a regular form, in cubes and parallelo-\\ngrams, with exa\u00c2\u00a3t proportion of parts and thus\\nformed they pleafe the eye for this juft reafon, that,\\nbeing works of ufe, they are by fuch figures better\\nadapted to the ends for which they were defigned.\\nBut plants, flowers, and leaves are full of variety and\\ndiverfity. A ftraight canal is an infipid figure, when\\ncompared with the meanders of a river. Cones and\\npyramids have their degree of beauty but trees,\\ngrowing in their natural wildnefs, have infinitely\\nmore beauty, than when trimmed into pyramids and\\ncones. The apartments of a houfe muft be difpofed\\nwith regularity for the convenience of its inhabitants^\\nbut a garden, which is intended merely for beauty,\\nwould be extremely difgufting, if it had as much\\nuniformity and order as a dwelling- houfe.\\nMotion affords another fource of beauty, diftindi\\nfrom figure. Motion of itfelf is pleafing and bod-\\nies in motion are, caeteris paribus, univerfally pre-\\nferred to thofe at reft. Only gentle motion, however,\\nbelongs to the Beautiful for, when it is fwift, \u00c2\u00a9r very\\npowerful, fuch as that of a torrent, it partakes of\\nthe fublime. The motion of a bird gliding through\\nthe air is exquifitely beautiful but the fwiftnefs\\nwith which lightning darts through the fky, is mag-\\nnificent and aftonifliing. Here it is neceffary to ob-\\nferve, that the fenfations of fublime and beautiful are\\nnot always diftinguifhed by very diitant boundaries\\nbut are capable in many inftances of approaching to-\\nward each other. Thus a gently running ftream is\\none of the moil beautiful obje s in nature but, as h\\nfwells gradually into a great river, the beautiful by\\n$egr$es is loft in the fublime. A young tree is 3", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "34 BEAUTY AND OTHER*.\\nbeautiful obje\u00c2\u00a3i a fpreading ancient oak is a venera-\\nble and fublime one. To return, however, to the\\nbeauty of motion, it will be found to hold very gener-\\nally, that motion in a ftraight line is not fo beautiful\\nas in a waving direction and motion upward is com-\\nmonly more pleating than motion downward. The\\neafy, curling motion ox flame and Cmoke is an obje\u00c2\u00a3fc\\nAngularly agreeable. Hogarth obferves very ingen-\\nioufly, that all the common and neceffary motions\\nfor the bufinefs of life are performed in ftraight or\\nplain lines but that alH4ie graceful and ornamental\\nmovements are made in curve lines an obfervation\\nworthy of the attention of thofe who ftudy the grace\\nof gefture and aft ion.\\nColour, figure, and motion, though feparate princi-\\npies of Beauty, yet in many beautiful obje s meet to-\\ngether, and thereby render the beauty greater and\\nmore complex. Thus in flowers, trees, and animals,\\nwe are entertained at once with the delicacy of the\\ncolour, with the gracefulnefs- of the figure, and fome-\\ntimes alfo with the motion of the objeft. The moft\\ncomplete aiiemblage of beautiful objects, which can;\\nbe found, is reprefented by a rich natural Ian df cape,,\\nwhere there is a fufficient variety of objects fields ia\\nverdure, fcattered trees and flowers, running water,\\nand animals grazing. If to thefe be added fome of\\nthe productions of art, fuitable to fuclx a fcene 5 as, a\\nbridge with arches over a river, frrroke rifing from\\ncottages in the mid it of trees, and a diitant view of\\na fine building, feen. by the rifing fun we then en-\\njoy in the higheft perfe ion that gay, cheerful, and\\nglacid fenfatioii, which characterises Beauty..", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2PLEASURES Or TASTE. 35\\nThe beauty of the human countenance is more\\ncomplex than any we have yet examined. It compre-\\nhends the Beauty of colour, arifing from the delicate\\nfhades of the complexion and the Beauty of figure,\\narifing from the lines, which conftitute different fea-\\ntures of the face. But the principal Beauty of the\\ncountenance depends upon a myfterious expreffion,\\nwhich it conveys of the qualities of the mind of\\ngood fenfe, or good humour of candour, benevolence,\\nfenfibility, or other amiable difpofitions. It may be\\nobferved, that there are certain qualities of the mind,\\nwhich, whether exprefled in the countenance, or by\\nwords or by a\u00c2\u00a3lions, always raife in us a feeling fimilar\\nto that of Beauty. There are two great clafles of\\nmoral qualities one is of the high and the great vir-\\ntues, which require extraordinary efforts, and is found-\\ned on dangers and fufferings as, heroifm, magnanim-\\nity, contempt of pleafuresj and contempt of death.\\nThefe produce in the fpe ator an emotion of fublimity\\nand grandeur. The other clafs is chieily of the focial\\nvirtues and fuch as are of a fofter and gentler kind\\nas, compaflion, mildnefs, and generofity, Thefe ex-\\ncite in the beholder a fenfation of pleafure, fo nearly\\nallied to that excited by beautiful external objev3s,\\nthat, though of a more exalted nature, it may with\\npropriety be claffed under the fame head.\\nBeauty of writing in its more definite fenfe charac-\\nterizes a particular manner fignifying a certain grace\\nand amenity in the turn either of ftyle or fentiment,\\nby which fome authors are particularly difiinguifhed.\\nIn this fenfe it denotes a manner neither remarkably\\nfublime, nor vehemently pafiionate, nor uncommonly\\nfparkling but fuch as excites in the reader an emo", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "36 BEAUTY AND OTHER\\ntion of the placid kind, refembling that which is raff-\\ned by contemplation of beautiful objects in nature y\\nwhich neither lifts the mind very high, nor agitates\\nit to excefs but fpreads over the imagination a pleat-\\ning ferenity. Addifon is a writer of this chara er,\\nand one of the mod proper examples of it. Fenelon,\\nthe author of Telemachus, is another example. Vir-\\ngil, alfo, though very capable of rifing occafionally into\\nthe fublime, yet generally is diftinguifhed by the char*\\nafter of beauty and grace, rather than of fublimity.\\nAmong orators, Cicero has more of the beautiful\\nthan Demofthenes, whofe genius led him wholly to-\\nward vehemence and ftrength.\\nSo much it is neceflary to have faid upon the fub-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3t of Beauty 5 fince next to fublimity it is the mod\\ncopious fource of the Pleafures of Tafte. But obje\u00c2\u00a3ts\\ndelight the imagination not only by appearing under\\nthe forms of fublime or beautiful they likewife de-\\nrive their power of giving it pleafure from feveral\\nother principles.\\nNovelty, for example, has been mentioned by Addi-\\nfon, and by every writer on this fubje\u00c2\u00a3t. An obje\u00c2\u00a3t\\nwhich has no other merit than that of being new,\\nby this quality alone raifes in the mind a vivid and\\nan agreeable emotion. Hence that paffion of curiofi-\\nty, which prevails fo generally in mankind. Objects\\nand ideas which have long been familiar, make too\\nfaint an impreffion, to give an agreeable exercife to\\nour faculties. New and ftrarige obje\u00c2\u00a3ts roufe the\\nmind from its dormant ftate, by giving it a fudden\\nand pleafing impuife. Hence, in a great meafure,\\nthe entertainment we receive from fiftion and ro-\\nmance. The emotion, raifed by Novelty is of a", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "PLEASURES OF TASTE. 37\\nmore lively and awakening nature, than that produc-\\ned by Beauty but much (horter in its duration.\\nFor, if the obje\u00c2\u00a3l have in itfelf no charms to hold\\nour attention, the glofs, fpread over it by Novelty,\\nfoon wears off.\\nImitation is another fource of pleafure to Tafte.\\nThis gives rife to what Addifon terms the Secondary\\nPleafures of Imagination, which form a very exten-\\nfive clafs. For all imitation affords fome pleafure to\\nthe mind not only the imitation of beautiful or fub-\\nlime objects, by recalling the original ideas of beauty\\nor grandeur, which fuch objects themfelves exhibited\\nbut even obje s which have neither beauty nor gran-\\ndeur nay, fome which are terrible or deformed,\\ngive us pleafure in a fecondary or reprefented view.\\nThe pleafures of melody and harmony belong alfo\\nto Tafte. There is no delightful fenfation, we receive\\neither from beauty or fublimity, which is not capable\\nof being heightened by the power of mufical found.\\nHence the charm of poetical numbers and even of\\nthe concealed and loofer meafures of profe. Wit,\\nhumour, and ridicule, open likewife a variety of pleaf-\\nures to Tafte, altogether different from any that have\\nyet been confidered.\\nAt prefent it is not neceffkry to purfue any farther\\nthe fubje\u00c2\u00a3l of the Pleafures of Tafte. We have opened\\nfome of the general principles it is time now to ap-\\nply them to our chief fubjett. If it be aiked, to what\\nclafs of thofe Pleafures of Tafte, which have been\\nenumerated, that pleafure is to be referred, which we\\nreceive from poetry, eloquence, or fine writing The\\nanfwer is, not to any one, but to them all. This pe-\\nculiar advantage writing andr difcourfe poffefs 5 they", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "38 BEAUTY AND OTHER PLEASURES OF TASTE.\\nencompafs a large and fruitful field on all fides, and\\nhave power to exhibit in great perfection, not a fingle\\nfet of objects only, but alrnoft the whole of thofe\\nwhich give pleafure to tafte and imagination whether\\nthat pleafure arife from fublimity, from beauty *n its\\nvarious forms, from defign and art, from moral fenti\u00c2\u00ab-\\nments, from novelty, from harmony, from- wit, humour,\\nor ridicule. To which foever of thefe a perfon s tafte\\nis directed, from fome writer or other he has it al-\\nways in his power to receive the gratification of it.\\nIt has been ufual among critical writers to treat of\\ndifcourfe, as the chief of all the imitative arts. They\\ncompare it with painting and with fculpture, and in\\nmany refpetts prefer it juftly before them. But we\\nmud diftinguifh between imitation and defcription*\\nWords have no natural refemblance of the ideas or\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3ts which they fignify 5 but a itatue or picture\\nhas a natural likenefs of the original.\\nAs far, however, as a poet or hiftorian introduces\\ninto his work perfons really fpeaking, and by words,\\nwhich he puts into their mouths, reprefents the con^-\\nverfation which they might be fuppofed to hold fo\\nfar his art may be called imitative 9 and this is the\\ncafe in all dramatick compofition. But in narrative or\\ndefcriptive works it cannot with propriety be fo call-\\ned. Who, for example, would call Virgil s defcrip^-\\ntion of a temped in the firft JEndd an imitation of a\\nftorm If we heard of the imitation of a battle, ws\\nmio ht naturally think of fome mock fight, ?r repre-\\nfentation of a battle on the itage but mould never\\nimagine it meant one of Homer s defcriptions in th$\\nIliad. It muft be allowed at the fame time, that imi-\\ntation and dcfcription agree in their principal effect, that", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "SRlClN AND PROGRESS Qt LANGUAGE. 3\u00c2\u00a3\\n#f recalling by external Ggns the ideas of things\\nvhich we do not fee. But though in this they coin^.\\ncide, yet it fhould he remembered, that the terms\\nthemfelves are not fynonymous that they import dif-\\nferent means of producing the fame end and eonfe*\\nquently make different impreflions on the iriincL\\nORIGIN AND PROGRESS Of LANGUAGE.\\n-L O form an adequate idea of the Origin of\\nLanguage, we muft contemplate the circumftances of\\nmankind in their earlieft and rudeft Rate. They were\\nthen a wandering, fcattered race no fociety among\\nthem except families and family fociety alfo very\\nimperfe\u00c2\u00a3, as their mode of living, by hunting or paf-\\nturage, muft have feparated them frequently from\\neach other. In fuch a condition, how could any one\\nfet of founds or words be univerfally agreed on, as\\nthe figns of their ideas Suppofing that a few, whom\\nchance or neceffity threw together, agreed by forne\\nmeans upon certain figns yet, by what authority\\ncould thefe be fo propagated among other tribes or\\nfamilies, as to grow up into a language One would\\nimagine that men muft have been previoufly gathered\\ntogether in confiderable numbers, before language\\ncould be fixed and extended and yet on the other\\nhand there feems to have been an abfolute neceffity of\\nfpeech previous to the formation of fociety. For\\nby what bond could a multitude of men be kept to-\\ngether, or be connected in profecution of any cotru\\njnon mtereft, before by the affiftance \u00c2\u00a9f fpeech they", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "40 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.\\ncould communicate their wants and intentions to each\\nether So that, how fociety could fubfift previoufly to\\nlanguage, and how wards could rile into language be-\\nfore, the formation of fociety, feem to be points at-\\ned with equal difficulty. When we con fider far-\\nther that curious analogy which prevails in the coti-\\nllion of alrnoft all languages, and that deep and\\nfubtile logic!; on which they are founded difficulties\\nin us on all fides, that there feems\\nring the origin of all\\nto ha~ve a divine original,\\nVi \\\\;n:e tji\u00c2\u00a7t a .):r{-f\\\\ fyftem of it was at\\nii: given to man. It is much more natmval to fup-\\npofe that God taught our firft parents only fuch lan-\\nguage as fuited their prefent cccafions leaving them,\\nas he did in other refpecAs, to enlarge and improve it\\ntheir future neceflkiss fhould require. Confequent-\\n]y, thofe rudiments of fpeech mud have been poor and\\nr.arrow 5 and we are at liberty to inquire, in what\\nmanner, and by what fteps, language advanced to the\\nft ate in which we now find it.\\nShould we fuppofe a period exifted before words\\nv/ere invented or known it is evident that men\\ncould have no other method of communicating their\\nfeelings, than by the cries of paiilon, accompanied by\\nfuch motions and geftures, as were farther expreffive\\nof emotion, Theie indeed are the only figns which\\nnature teaches all men, and which are understood by\\nall. One, who faw another going into fome place,\\nwhere he hirnfelf had been frightened, or expofed to\\ndanger,, and who wifhed to warn his neighbour of the\\ndingpXj could contrive no other method of doing", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "ORIGIN AND PROGRE3S OF LANGUAGE. 4 1\\nfhan by uttering thofe cries, and making thofe geflures,\\nwhich are the figns of fear as two men at this day\\nwould endeavour to make themfelves underftood by\\neach other, if thrown together on a defolate ifland,\\nignorant of each other s language. Thofe exclama-\\ntions, therefore, by grammarians called interjections,\\nuttered in a ftrong and paiTionate manner, were un-\\ndoubtedly the elements of fpeech.\\nWhen more enlarged communication became requi-\\nsite, and names began to be applied to objedts how\\ncan we fuppofe men proceeded in this application of\\nnames, or invention of words Certainly by imitating,\\nas much as they could, the nature of the object nam-\\ned by the found of the name given to it. Asa paint-\\ner who would reprefent grafs, mud employ a green\\ncolour fo in the infancy of language one, giving a\\nname to any thing harfh or boiitero-us, would of courfe\\nemploy a harih or hohlerous found. He could not\\ndo otherwife, if he defired to excite in the hearer the\\nidea of that object which he wiihed to name. To\\nimagine words invented, or names given to things,\\nwithout any ground or reafoir, is to fuppofe an effect:\\nwithout a caufe. There muft always have been feme\\nmotive which led to one name, rather than another\\nand we can fuppofe no motive, which would more\\ngenerally operate upon men in their firft efforts to-\\nward language, than a defire to paint by fpeech the\\nobjects which they named in a manner more or lefs\\ncomplete, according as it was in the power of the\\nhuman voice to effetl this imitation.\\nWherever objsfts- were to be named, in which\\nfound, noife, or motion was concerned, the imitation\\ni j words was fuffieiently obvious. Nothing was mere\\nV a", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "4 2 \u00c2\u00a9RIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.\\nnatural, than to imitate by the found of the voice the\\nquality of the found or noife which any external ob-\\nject produced and to form its name accordingly.\\nThus in all languages we difcover a multitude of\\nwords, which are evidently conftru\u00c2\u00a3ted on this prin-\\nciple. A certain bird is called the Cuckoo, from the\\nfound which it emits. When one fort of wind is\\nfaid to whifihy and another to roar when a ferpent\\nis faid to hifs a fly to buzz and falling timber to\\ncrajh when a dream is faid to flow, and hail to rattle\\nthe refemblance between the word and the thing fig-\\nnified is plainly difcemible. But in the names of\\nobjects which adurefs the fight only, where neither\\nnoife nor motion is concerned and ftill more in\\nterms, appropriated to moral ideas, this analogy ap-\\npears to fail. Yet many learned men have imagined\\nthat, though in fuch cafes it becomes more obfcure,\\nit is not altogether loft and that in the radical words\\nof all languages there may be traced fome degree of\\ncorrefpondence with the objects fignified.\\nThis principle however of a natural relation between\\nwords and objects, can be applied to language only in\\nIts mofl firnple and early ftate. Though in every\\ntongue fome remains of it may be traced, it were ut-\\nterly in vain to fearch for it through the whole con-\\nftru\u00c2\u00a3tion of any modern language. As terms increafe\\nin every nation, and the vail field of language is fill-\\ned up, words by a thoufand fanciful and irregular\\nmethods of derivation and compofition deviate widely\\nfrom the primitive character of their roots, and lofe\\nall refemblance in found of the things fignified.\\nThis is the prefent ftate of language. Words, as we\\nmow ufe theirs taken in general, may be confidereci I", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2StlGltf AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 4$\\nm fymbols, not imitations as arbitrary or inftituted,\\nnot natural figns of ideas. But there can be no doubt\\nthat language, the nearer we approach to its rife\\namong men, will be found to partake more of a nat-\\nural expreffion.\\nInterjections, it has been fhown, or paflionate ex-\\nclamations, were the elements of fpeech. Men la-\\nboured to communicate their feelings to each other\\nby thofe expreflive cries and geftures, which nature\\ntaught them. After words, or names of objects, be-\\ngan to be invented, this mode of fpeaking by natural\\nfigns could not be all at once difufed. For language\\nin its infancy mud have been extremely barren and\\nthere certainly was a period among all rude nations^\\nwhen converfation was carried on by a very few\\nwords, intermixed with many exclamations and earn*\\neft geftures. The fmall flock of words which men\\nthen pofieiTed, rendered thofe helps entirely necefTary\\nfor explaining their conceptions and rude, unculti-\\nvated individuals, not having always ready even the\\nfew words, which they know, would naturally labour\\nto make themfelves underftood by varying their tones\\nof voice, and by accompanying their tones with the\\nmoft expreflive gefticulations.\\nTo this mode of fpeaking, neceffity gave rife. But\\nwe muit obferve that, after this neceffity had in a\\ngreat degree ceafed, by language becoming in procefs\\nof time more extenfive and copious, the ancient man*\\nner of fneech ftill fubfifted among many nations j and*\\nwhat had arifen from neceffity, continued to be ufed\\nfor ornament. In the Greek and Roman languages, a\\nmufical and gefticulating pronunciation was retained\\n4n a very high degiee. Without attending to this, w$", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "4\\\\ ORIGIN ANI!) PROGRESS CV LANGUAGE.\\nStall be at a 3ofs in underftanding feveral paflages of\\nthe Clafficks, which relate to the publick fpeaking and\\ntheatrical entertainments of the ancients. Our mod-\\nern pronunciation would have feemed to them a life-\\nlefs monotony. The declamation of their orators and\\nthe pronunciation of their actors upon the ftage ap-\\nproached to the nature of recitative in mufick; was\\ncapable of being marked by notes, and fupported by\\niiiftruments as feveral learned men have proved.\\nWith regard to gefture, the cafe was parallel for\\nflrong tones and animated geftures always go together.\\nThe action both of orators and players in Greece\\nand Rome was far more vehement than that to\\nwhich we are accuftomed. To us, Rofcius would ap-\\npear a madman, Gefture was of fuch confequence on\\nthe ancient ftage, that thJre is reafon for believing that\\no-n fume occufions the fpeaking and the acting were\\ndivided which, according to our ideas, would form\\na ftrange exhibition. One player fpoke the words in\\nthe proper tones, while another exprefled the corref-\\npondlng motions and geftures. Cicero tells us, it was\\na conteft between him and Rofcius, whether he could\\nexprefs a fentiment in a greater variety of phrafes, or\\nRofcius in a greater variety of intelligible fignificant\\ngeftures. At laft, gefture engrofled the ftage entirely\\nfor uader the reigns of Aug a ft us and Tiberius, th*\\nfavourite entertainment of the publick was the Panto-\\nmime, which was carried on by gefticulation only.\\nThe people were moved, and wept at it as much as at\\ntragedies and the paffion for it became fo violent^\\nthat Jaws were made for reftraining the fenators from\\nftudying the pantomime art. Now, though in decla-\\ntfio\u00c2\u00a3s wd theatrical exhibition? both toue *c4 gef*", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "ORIGIN 4ND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.\\ns\\nture were carried much farther than in common\\ncourfe yet publick fpeaking of any kind muft in ever^\\ncountry bear fome proportion to the manner which\\nis ufed in conversation and fuch pubiick entertain*\\nLts could never be reliflied by a nation whofe tones\\nand geftures in difcourfe were as languid as ours.\\nThe early language of men, being entirely compof-\\ned of words descriptive of ieniible objects, became of\\nextremely metaphorical. For, to ugnify any\\n.or any act or feeling of the mind,\\n:I expreffion which was appropriated\\n:e obliged to paint the emo-\\non, which they felt, by alluding to thofe\\nieniible objects which had moil connexion with it\u00c2\u00a3\\nand which could render it in fbme degree vifible to\\nothers.\\nBut it was not neceftity alone, that gave rife to this\\npictured ftyle. In the infancy of all focieties, fear\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0and furprife, wonder and aftonifhment, are the moil\\nfrequent paffions of men. Their language will nec-\\neffarily be affecled by this character of their minds.\\nThey will be difpofed to paint every thing in the\\nftrongeft colours. Even the manner, in which the firft\\ntribes of men uttered their words, had confiderablc\\ninfluence on their ftyle. Wherever ftrong exclama-\\ntions, tones, and geftures are connected with conver-\\nfation, the imagination is always more e^ercifeij a\\ngreater effort of fancy and paffipn is c:;\\nThus the fancy, being kept awake\\nhtlv by this mode of utterance, operates upon\\niuy-c, and gives it additional life and fpirit.\\nAs one proof among many, which might be pro-\\nduced of the truth of thefe cbfervations, we fhaJJ", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "4*5 /ORIGIN and progress of language.\\ntr^afcribe a fpeech from Colden s Hiftory of the Five\\nIndian Nations, which was delivered by their Chiefs,\\nwhen entering on a treaty of peace with us, in the\\nfollowing language. We are happy in having buri-\\ned under ground the red axe, that has fo often been\\nu died in the blood of our brethren. Now in this\\nfort we inter the axe, and plant the tree of peace.\\nu We plant a tree, whofe top will reach the fun and\\nu its branches fpread abroad, fo that it (hall be feen\\nM afar off. May its growth never be ftifled and chok-\\ned but may it {hade both your country and ours\\nwith its leaves Let us make faft its roots, and ex-\\nc tend them to the utmoft of your colonies. If the\\nFrench fhould come, to fhake this tree, we mould\\nu know it by the motion of its roots reaching into our\\nu country. May the Great Spirit allow us to reft in\\nu tranquillity upon our mats, and never again dig up\\nM the axe, to cut down the tree of peace Let the\\nc earth be trodden hard over it, where it lies buried.\\nu Let a ftrong dream run under the pit, to walh the\\nu evil away out of our fight and remembrance. The\\nfire, that had long burned in Albany, is extinguiih-\\nu ed. The bloody bed is warned clean, and the tears\\nu are wiped from our eyes. We now renew th\u00c2\u00ab\\ncovenant chain of friendship. Let it be kept bright\\ncc and clean as filver, and not fuffeted to contract any\\nw ruft. Let not any one pull away his arm from it**\\nAs language in its progrefs grew more copious, it\\ngradually loft that figurative ft yie, which was its early\\ncharacter. The vehement manner of fpeaking by\\ntones and geftures became lefs common. Inftead of\\npoets, philofophers became the inftruftors of men\\nand in their reafoning on all fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts introduced that", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "USE AND PROGRESS OP LANGUAGE, C 47\\nplainer and more fimple llyle of compofition which we\\nnow call Profe. Thus the ancient metaphorical\\nand poetical drefs of Language was at length laid\\nafide in the intercourfe of men, and referved for thofe\\noccafions only, on which ornament was profeffedly\\niiudied.\\nRISE AND \u00c2\u00a3ROGRE8S OF LANGUAGE AND\\nOF WRITING.\\nVV HEN we examine the order in which the.\\nWords are arranged in a fentence, we find a very\\nremarkable difference between ancient and modern\\ntongues. The confideration of this will ferve to un-\\nfold farther the genius of Language, and to fliew the\\neaufes of thofe alteration^, it has undergone in the\\nprogrefs of fociety.\\nTo conceive diftin\u00c2\u00a3Uy the nature of this alteration,\\nwe mult go back, as before, to the earned period of\\nLanguage. Let us figure to ourfelves a Savage be-\\nholding fome fruit, which he earneftly defires, and re-\\n.quefts another to give him. Suppofe him unac-\\nquainted with words, he would flrive to make himfelf\\nimderftood by pointing eagerly at the obje\u00c2\u00a3l defired,\\nand uttering at the fame time a paffionate cry. Sup-\\npofing him to have acquired words, the firil word\\nwhich he would utter would be the name of that ob-\\nject. He would not exprefs himfelf according to our\\norder of conRru\u00c2\u00a3tion, Give me fruit but accord-\\ning to the Latin order, Fruit give me, Fruclum\\n4( da mini/* for this plain reafon, that his attention was\\nwholly directed toward fruit, the object defired*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "4? RISE AND PROGRESS 0\u00c2\u00bb\\nHence we might conclude a priori^ that this was the or-\\nder in which words were mod commonly arranged in\\nthe infancy of Language and accordingly we find in\\nreality that in this order words are arranged in mod of\\nthe ancient tongues, as in the Greek and Latin and it\\nis faid Kkewife in the Ruffian, Sclavonick, Gaelick\\nand feveral American tongues.\\nThe modern languages of Europe have adopted a\\ndifferent arrangement from the ancient. In their profe\\ncompetitions very little variety is admitted in the col-\\nlocation of words they are chiefly fixed to one order,\\nwhich may be called the Order of the Underflanding.\\nThey place firft in the fentence the perfon or thing,\\nwhich fpeaks or acts next, its a\u00c2\u00a3iion and laftly, the\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3l of its a\u00c2\u00a3lion. Thus an Englifti writer, paying:\\na compliment to a great man, would fay, It is im\u00c2\u00bb\\nf( poffible for me to pafs over in filence fo diftinguifh-\\ncc ed mildnefs, fo Angular and unheard of clemency,\\nci and fo uncommon moderation, in the exercife of\\nfupreme power, Here is firft prefented to us the\\nperfon who fpeaks, It is impoflible for me next,\\nwhat the fame perfon is to do, to pap over in filence\\nand laftly, the objedt which excites him to action,\\nthe mildnefs, clemency, and moderation of his pa*\\ntron. Cicero, from whom thefe words are tranflat-\\ned, reveries this order. He begins with the obje\u00c2\u00a3t\\nplaces that firft, which was the exciting idea in the\\nfpe aker s mind, and ends with the fpeaker and his ac-\\ntion. Tantarn manfuetudinem, tarn inuiitatam in-\\nCi auditamque clementfam, tantumque in fumma pc-\\nteftate rerum omnium mod urn, tacitus nullo modo\\npneterlre poffum. Here, it mutt be obferved, the\\nLatin order is more animated the Englifli more clear\\nand diftinch", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "LANGUAGE AND OF WRITING. 49\\nOur language naturally allows greater liberty for\\ntranfpofition and inverfion in poetry, than in profe.\\nEven there however this liberty is confined within nar-\\nTow limits, in comparifon with the ancient languages.\\nIn this refpeCt, modern tongues vary from each other.\\nThe Italian approaches the neareft in its character to\\nthe ancient tranfpofition the Englifn has more in-\\nverfion than the reft 5 and the French has the leaft\\nof all.\\nWriting is an improvement upon Speech, and con-\\nfequently was pofterior to it in order of time. Its\\ncharacters are of two kinds, figns of things, and figns\\nof words. Thus the pictures, hieroglyphicks, and\\nfymbols, employed by the ancients, were of the for-\\nmer fort the alphabetical characters, now employed\\nby Europeans, of the latter.\\nPidures were certainly the firft attempt toward\\nwriting. Mankind in all ages and in all nations have\\nbeen prone to imitation. This would foon be em^\\nployed for defcribing and recording events. Thus, to\\nfignify that one man had killed another, they painted\\nthe figure of one man lying on the ground, and of\\nanother (landing by him with a hoftile weapon in his\\nhand. When America was firft difcovered, this was\\nthe only kind of writing with which the Mexicans\\nwere acquainted. It was however a very imperfeCt\\nmode of recording faCts fmce by pictures external\\nevents only could be delineated.\\nHieroglyphical characters may be considered as the\\nfecond ftage of the Art of Writing. They confift of\\ncertain fymbols, which are made to ftand for invifible\\nobjeCts on account of their fuppofeA refemblance of\\nthe objeCts themfelves. Thus an eye reprefented\\ni", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "4J SUSE AND PROGRESS OF\\nknowledge; and a circle, having neither beginning\\nnor end, was the fymbol of eternity, Egypt was the\\nCountry where this kind of writing was moil ftudiedj\\nand brought into a regular art. JBy thefe chara ers\\nall the boafted wifdorn of their priefts was conveyed.\\nThey pitched upon animals to be the emblems of\\nmoral obje\u00c2\u00a3ts, according to the qualities with which\\nthey fuppofed them to be endued. Thus imprudence\\nwas denominated by a fly wifdorn, by an ant and\\nvi\u00c2\u00a3tory, by a hawk. But this fort of writing was m\\n.the higheft degree enigmatical and confufed and\\nconfequently a very imperfect vehicle of knowledge.\\nFrom hieroglyphicks fome nations gradually advanc-\\ned to fimple arbitrary marks, which flood for objects,\\nthough without any refemblance of the objefls fignifi-\\ned. Of this nature was the writing of the Peruvians.\\nThey ufed fmall cords of different colours and by\\n-knots upon thefe, of different fizes and varioufly rang-\\ned, they invented ligns for communicating their\\nthoughts to one another. The Chinefe at this day ufe\\nwritten characters of this nature. They have no al-\\nphabet of letters or fimple founds of which their\\nwords are compofed*, but every fingle chara\u00c2\u00a3ter,\\nwhich they ufe, is expreilive of an idea it is a mark\\nwhich figniiies fome one thing or object. The num-\\nber of thwfe chara ers muft confequently be immenfe*\\nThey are faid indeed to amount to feventy thoufand.\\nTo be perfectly acquainted with them is the bufinefs\\nof a whole life; which muft have greatly retarded\\namong them the progrefs of every kind of fcience.\\nIt is evident that the Chinefe characters, like hiero-\\nglyphicks, are figns of things, and not of words. For\\nwe are told, that the Japanefe, the Tonquinefe, and", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "LANGUAGE AND OF WRfTlNG. 51\\nthe Corceans, who fpeak different languages from\\neach other, and from the inhabitants of China, ufe,\\nfcowever, the fame written characters with them, and\\nthus correfpond intelligibly with one another in writ-\\ning, though mutually ignorant of each other s lan-\\nguage. Our arithmetical figures, i 2, 3, 4, c are\\nan example of this fort of writing. They have no\\ndependence on words each figure reprefents the\\nnumber for which it (lands and confequently is\\nequally underftood by all nations, who have agreed in\\nthe ufe of thefe figures.\\nThe firft ftep, to remedy the imperfection, the\\nambiguity, and the tedioufnefs of each of the methods\\nof communication, which have been mentioned, was\\nthe invention of figns, which fhould (land not dire\u00c2\u00a3t-\\nly for things, but for words by which things were\\nnamed and diftinguiChed. An alphabet of fylla--\\nbles feems to have been invented previoufly to\\nan alphabet of letters. Such a one is faid to be\\nretained at this day in ^Ethiopia and fome countries\\nof India, But at bed it mult have been imperfect\\nand ineffectual fince the number ef characters, be-\\ning very conuderable, mud have rendered both read-\\ning and writing very complex and laborious.\\nTo whom we are indebted for the fublime and re-\\nfined difcovery of letters is not determined. They\\nwere brought into Greece by Cadmus, the Phoenician,\\nwho, according to Sir Isaac Newton s Chronology,\\nwas contemporary with king David. His alphabet\\ncontained only fixteen letters. The reft were after-\\nward added, according as figns for proper founds were\\nfound to be wanting. The Phoenician, Hebrew,\\nGreek, and Roman alphabets agree fo much in th#", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "52 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.\\nfigure, names, and arrangement of the letters, a*\\namounts to demonftration, that they were derived\\noriginally from the fame fource.\\nThe ancient order of writing was f?om the right\\nhand to the left. This method, as appears from fome\\nvery old inscriptions, prevailed even among the Greeks.\\nThey afterward ufed to write their lines alternately\\nfrom the right to the left, and from the left to the\\nright. The infcription on the famous Sigaean monu-\\nment is a fpecimen of this mode of writing, which\\ncontinued till the days of Solon, the celebrated Legis-\\nlator of Athens. At length, the motion from the\\nleft hand to the right, being found more natural and\\nconvenient, this order of writing was adopted by all\\nthe nations of Europe.\\nWriting was firft exhibited on pillars and tables of\\nftone afterward on plates of the fofter metals. As\\nit became more common, the leaves and bark of cer-\\ntain trees were ufed in fome countries and in oth-\\ners, tablets of wood, covered with a thin coat of foft\\nwax, on which the impreffion was made with a ftylus of\\niron. Parchment, made of the hides of animals, was\\nan invention of later times. Paper was not invented\\nbefore the fourteenth century.\\nSTRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.\\nX HE common divifion of Speech into eight\\nparts, nouns, pronouns, verbs, participles, adverbs, pre-\\npofitions, interjections, and conjunctions, is not very\\naccurate fince under the general term of nouns it\\ncomprehends both fubftantives and adjedives, which", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE, 53\\nare parts of fpeech eflentially diftin\u00c2\u00a3t. Yet as we\\nare mod: accultomed to this divifion, and, as logical\\nexattnefs is not neceflary to our prefent defign, we\\n(hall adopt thefe terms, which habit has made fa-\\nmiliar to us,\\nSubftantive nouns are the foundation of Grammar,\\nand the mo ft ancient part of fpeech. When men had\\nadvanced beyond firnple interjections or exclamations\\nof paffion, and had begun to communicate their ideas\\nto each other, they would be obliged to affign names\\nto objects by which they were furrounded. Where-\\never a favage looked, he beheld forefts and trees. To\\ndiilinguifn each by a feparate name would have been\\nendlefs. Their common qualities, fuch as fpringing\\nfrom a root, and bearing branches and leaves would\\nfuggeft a general idea and a general name. The ge-\\nnus, tree, was afterward fubdivided into its feveral fpe-\\ncies.of oak, elm, aih, e. upon experience and obfsr-\\nvationi.\\nStill however onlygeneral terms were ufed in fpeech.\\nFor oak, elm* and afh, were names of whole clafles of\\nobjects, each of which comprehended an immenfe\\nnumber of undiftinguifhed individuals* Thus, when\\nthe nouns man, lion, or tree were mentioned in con-\\nverfation, it could not be known, which man, lion, or\\ntree was meant among the multitude, comprehended\\nunder one name. Hence arofe a very ufeful contriv-\\nance for determining the individual obje\u00c2\u00a3t intended,\\nby mean of that part of fpeech called the Article.\\nIn Englifh, we have two articles, a and the a is mors\\ngeneral, the more definite. The Greeks had but one,\\nwhich agrees with our definite article the. They fup=*\\npti ed the place of our article a by the abfence of their\\n2", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "54 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.\\narticle 5 thus Avfyowoi; fignifies a man, A^aro; thi\\nman. The Latins had no article but in the room of\\nit ufed the pronouns hie, ille, ifte. This, however,\\nfeems a defe in their language fmce articles cer-\\ntainly contribute much to perfpieuity and precifion.\\nTo perceive the truth of this remark, obferve the\\ndifferent imports of the following expreffions The\\nu fon of a king, the fon of the king, a fon of the king s\\nEach of thefe three phrafes has a feparate meaning,\\ntoo obvious to be mifunderftood. But, in Latin,\\nu filius regis is entirely undetermined it may bear\\ncither of the three fenfes mentioned.\\nBefide this quality of being defined by the article,\\nthree affe ions belong to nouns, number, gender and\\ncafe, which deferve to be confidered.\\nNumber, as it makes a noun fignificant of one or\\nmore, is fmgular or plural a diftinflion found in all\\ntongues, which muft have been coeval with the ori-\\ngin of language, fince there were few things, which\\nmen had more frequent neceffity of expreffing, than\\nthe diftindion between one and more. In the He-\\nbrew, Greek, and fome other ancient languages, we\\nfind not only a plural, but a dual number the origin\\nof which may very naturally be accounted for, as fep-\\narate terms of numbering were yet, undifcovered, and\\none, two, and many, were all, or at leaft the principle\\nnumeral diftin ions, which men at firft had any occa-\\nfion to make.\\nGender, which is founded on the diftin\u00c2\u00a3lion of\\nthe two fexes, can with propriety be applied to the\\nnames of living creatures only. All other nouns ought\\nto be of the neuter gender. Yet in moft languages\\nthe fame diftin ion is applied to a great number of", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 5J\\ninanimate obje\u00c2\u00a3ls. Thus, in the Latin tongue, enfis a\\nfword, is mafculine 5 faglttu^ an arrow, is feminine\\nand this affignation of fex to inanimate objefts often\\nappears entirely capricious. In the Greek and Latin,\\nhowever, all inanimate obje\u00c2\u00a3ts are not diftributed into\\nmafculine and feminine but many of them are claff-\\ned, f where all ought to be, under the neuter gender as\\nfaxum, a rock mare, the fea. But in the French and\\nItalian tongue, the neuter gender is wholly unknown,\\nall their names of inanimate objects being put upon the\\nfame footing with thofe of living creatures, and diftrib-\\nuted without referve into mafculine and feminine. In\\nthe Englifh language, all nouns, literally ufed, that are\\nthe names of living creatures, are neuter and ours is,\\nperhaps, the only tongue (except the Chine fe, which\\nis faid to refemble it in this particular) in which th*\\ndiftin\u00c2\u00a3tion of gender is philofophically applied.\\nCase denotes the ftate or relation which one ob-\\nie\u00c2\u00a3l bears to another, by fome variation of the name\\nof that obje\u00c2\u00a3t generally in the final letters, and by\\nfome languages in the initial. All tongues, however*\\ndo not agree in this mode of expreffion. Declenfion\\nis ufed by the Greek and Latin but in the Englifh,\\nFrench, and Italian, it is not found or, at mot, it exifts\\nin a very imperfeft ftate. Thefe languages exprefs\\nthe relations of objects by prepofitions, which are the\\nnames of thofe relations prefixed to the names of\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3ls. Englifh nouns have no cafe, except a fort\\nof genitive, commonly formed by adding the letter\\nto the noun as when we fay Pope^s D unclad/*\\nmeaning the Dunciad of Pope.\\nWhether the moderns have given beauty or utility\\nto language, by the abolition of cafes, may perhaps be\\ndoubted. They have, however, certainly rendered it", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "$6 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE*\\nmore fimple, by removing that intricacy which arofe\\nfrom different forms of declenfion, and from the ir-\\nregularities of the feveral declenfions. But in obtain-\\ning this (implicity, it muft be confeffed, we have filled\\nlanguage with a multitude of thofe little words, call-\\ned prepofitions, which, by perpetually occurring ia\\nevery fentence, encumber fpeech and by. rendering it\\nmore prolix, enervate its force. The found of modern\\nlanguage is alfo lefs agreeable to the ear, being depriv-\\ned of that variety and fweetnefs, which, aroie from,\\nthe length of words, and the change of terminations,\\noccaiionecl by cafes in the Greek and Latin; But per-\\nhaps the greats ft difadvantage we fuftain by the abo-\\nlition of cafes, Is the lofs of that liberty of tranfpofi-\\ntion, in the arrangement of words, which the ancient:\\nlanguages enjoyed.\\nPronouns are the representatives of nouns, and are;\\nfubjedt to the fame modifications of number, gender,-\\nand cafe. We may obferve, however, that the pro-\\nnouns of the firft and fecond perfon, /and thou, have;\\nno diftinftion of gender in any language for, as they\\nalways refer to perfons prefent, their fex muft be.\\nknown, and therefore needs not to be marked by their,\\npronouns. But, as the third perfon may be abfent,.,\\nor unknown, the diftin\u00c2\u00a3tion of gender there becomes\\nrequifite and accordingly in Englifti it hath all three\\ngenders, he,Jhe, it.\\nAdjectives, zsjirong, weak, handfome, ugly, are the\\npjaineft and mo ft fimple in that clafs of words, which\\nare termed* attributive. They are common to alt lan-\\nguages, and muft have been very early invented fince\\nobjects could neither be diftinguiflied nor treated o\u00c2\u00a3\\nin difcourfe, before, names were ^ffigned to their dif*", "height": "4294", "width": "2463", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE 0? LANGUAGE. 57\\nSTRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. ENGLISH\\nTONGUE.\\nv^F all the parts of fpeech, Verbs are by far the\\naioft complex and ufeful. From their importance w\u00c2\u00ab\\nmay juftly conclude, that they were coeval with the\\norigin of language though a long time mult have\\nbeen requifite to rear them up to that accuracy which\\nthey now poflefs.\\nThe tenfes were contrived to mark the feveral\\ndiftindiions of time. We commonly think of no more\\nthan its three great divifions, the paft, the prefent,\\nand the future and we might fuppofe that, if verbs\\nhad been fo contrived as merely to exprefs thefe, no\\nmore was necefiary. But language proceeds with\\nmuch greater fubtilty. It divides time into its fever-\\nal moments it regards it as never (landing ftill, but\\nalways flowing things paft, as more or lefs diftant\\nand things future, as more or lefs remote by different\\ngradations. Hence the variety of tenfes in almoii\\nevery language.\\nThe prefent may indeed be always regarded as one\\nindivifible point, which admits no variety I am/\\n**fum But it is not fo with the paft. Even the\\npooreft language has two or three tenfes to exprefs\\nits varieties. Ours has four. 1. A paft a\u00c2\u00a3Hon may\\nbe reprefented as unfinifhed, by the imperfect tenfe j\\nI was walking, ambulabam a. As finifhed by the\\nperfeft tenfe, I have walked/ 3. As finifhed fome\\ntime fmce, the particular time being left undetermin-\\ned I walked, ambulavi this is what gramma*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "5? STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE*\\nrians call an aorifl or indefinite paft. 4. As finiffiecf\\nbefore fomething elfe, which is alfo paft. This is\\nthe plufquamperfedi I had walked, ambulaverarh*\\nu I had walked before you called upon me. Our\\nlanguage, we muft perceive with pieafure, has an ad-\\nvantage over the Latins which has only three varia-\\ntions of paft time.\\nThe varieties in future time are two a fimple or\\nindefinite future 5 u i (hall walk, ambulabof and a\\nfuture having reference to fomething. elfe, which is\\nlikewife future I {hall have walked, amhulavero\\nu I fhall have walked, before he will pay me a vifit. J\\nBefide tenfes, verbs admit the diftin\u00c2\u00a3tion of voices*\\nviz. the active and paffive as, I love, or I am loved.\\nThey admit alfo the diilin\u00c2\u00a3fcion of modes, which are\\nintended to exprefs the perceptions and volitions of\\nthe mind under different forms. The indicative mode\\n(imply declares a propofition 1 write I have\\nu written. The imperative requires, commands, or\\nthreatens y Write thou let him write. The fub-\\njun\u00c2\u00a3Hve exprefles a propofition under the form of a\\ncondition, or as fubordinate to fomething to which\\nreference is made Ci I might write I could write\\nI fhould write, if the matter were fo. This expref-\\nfion of the perceptions and volitions of the mind in\\nfo many various forms, together with the diiiindlion of\\nthe three perfons, 2, thw and he, conftitutes the con-\\njugation of verbs, which makes fo great a part of the\\nGrammar of all languages.\\nConjugation is reckoned mo ft perfect in thofe Ian*\\nguages, which, by varying the termination, or the initial\\nfyllable of the verb, exprefles the greateft number of\\nimportant circumftances without the help of auxiliary", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE, 59\\nwerbs. In the Oriental tongues verbs have few tenfes\\nbut their modes are fo contrived, as to exprefs a\\ngreat variety of circumftances and relations. In the\\nHebrew they fay in one word, without the aid of an\\nauxiliary, not only, I taught, but, I was taught I\\ncaufed to teach 9 I was caufed to teach I taught\\n4\u00e2\u0082\u00ac ircyfelf. The Greek, which is commonly thought\\nto be the mod perfect of all languages, is very regular\\nand complete in the modes and tenfes. The Latin,\\nthough formed on the fame model, is not fo perfect\\nparticularly in the pafiive voice, which forms moft of\\nthe tenfes by the aid of the auxiliary fum In.\\nmodern European tongues, conjugation is very defec-\\ntive. The two great auxiliary verbs, to have^nA to be,\\nwith thofe other auxiliaries, which we ufe in Englifh,\\n.do,Jhail i wiI/ may av.d\u00c2\u00a3a?2) prefixed to a participle, or\\nto another verb in the infinitive mode, fupercede in a\\ngreat meafure the different terminations of modes\\nand tenfes which formed the ancient conjugations.\\nThe other parts of fpeech, as they admit no varia-\\ntion, will require only a ihort difcuffion.\\nAdverbs are for the moft part an abridged mode of\\nfpeech, expreffing by one word what might, by a cir-\\ncumlocution, be refolved into two or more words be-\\nlonging to other parts of fpeech. Here/ for re-\\nliance, is the fame with in this place. Hence ad-\\nverbs fe^m to be lefs neceffary, and of later introduc-\\ntion into fpeech, than feveral ether clafles of words\\nand accordingly moft of them are derived from other\\nwords, formerly eftabiifhed in the language.\\nPrepof tions and conjunctions ferve to exprefs the\\nrelations which things bear to one another, their mu-\\ntual influence, dependence, and coherence and fo te", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "f# ENGLISH TONGUE.\\njoin words together, as to form intelligible propofitloiiS*\\nConjunctions are commonly employed for connecting\\nfentences, or members of fentences as, and beccufe,\\nand the like. Prepofitions are ufed for connecting\\nwords as, of from to, c. The beauty and ftrength\\nof every language depend in a great meafure on a\\nproper ufe of conjunctions, prepofitions, and thofe\\nrelative pronouns, which ferve the fame purpofe of\\nconnecting different parts of difcourfe.\\nHaving thus briefly confidered the StruCture of\\nLanguage in general, we will now enter more particul-\\narly into an examination of our own Language.\\nThe Englifli, which was fpoken after the Norman\\nConqueft, and continues to be fpoken now, is a mix-\\nture of the ancient Saxon and the Norman French, to-\\ngether with fuch new and foreign words, as commerce\\nand learning have, in a fucceffion of ages, gradually\\nintroduced. From the influx of fo many ftreams,\\nfrom a junction of fo many diffimilar parts, it natur-\\nally follows, that the Englifli, like every compounded\\nlanguage, mud be fomewhat irregular. We cannot\\nexpeCt from it that complete analogy in ftruCture,\\nwhich may be found in thofe Ampler languages, which\\nwere formed within themfelves, and built on one\\nfoundation. Hence our fyntax is fhort, fmce there are\\nfew marks in the words themfelves which {how their\\nrelation to each other, or, point out either their con-\\ncordance or their government in a fentence. But if\\nthefe be difadvantages in a compound language, they\\nare balanced by the advantages which attend it, par-\\nticularly by the number and variety of words by\\nwhich fuch a language is commonly enriched. Few\\nlanguages are more copious than the Englifli. In all", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": ";lish tongue. 6i\\ni\\ngrave fubjefl torical, critical, political,\\nand moral, no complaint can juftly be made of the\\n;ue. We are rich too in the lan-\\n./ry; our poetical (ty! idely from\\nt with refpe\u00c2\u00a3t to numbers only, but in the\\nthemfelves which proves what a com-\\npafs and variety of words we can felecl and employ,\\nns. Herein we are infinite-\\nly fuperior to the French, whofe poetical language, if\\nwere not diftiogu yme, weuld not be\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2.eir ordinary profe. Their\\nuage, however, furpaffes ours in exp: fling what-\\never is delicate, gay, and amufing. It is, perhaps, the\\nhappieft languag conversation in the known\\nworld; but for the higher fubjecto of compofition,\\nthe Englifh is juftly confidered as far fuperior to it.\\nThe flexibility of a language, or its power of be-\\ncoming either grave and ftron g, or eafy and flowing,\\nor tender and gentle, cr pompous and magnificent, as\\noccafions require, is a quality of great importance\\nin fpeaking and writing. This depends on the co-\\npioufnefs of a language the different arrangements\\nof which its words are fufceptible and the variety\\nand beauty of the founds of its words. The Greek\\npoffeffed thefe requifites in a higher degree than\\nany other language. It fuperadded the graceful vari-\\nety of its different dialects and thereby readily af-\\nfumed every kind of character, an author could wifh,\\nfrom the mod Ample and familiar, to the moil majef-\\ntick. The Latin, though very beautiful, is inferior ha\\nthis refpeft to the Greek. It has more of a fixed\\ncharacter of ftatelinefs and gravity and is fupported\\nby a certain fenatorial dignity, of which it is difficult", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "62\\nENGLISH TO\\nfor a writer to diveft it. Among modern tongue^\\nthe Italian p fleffes much more flexibility than the\\nTrench and feerns to be on the whole the mod per-\\nfect of all the modern diale s which have arifen out\\nof the ruins of the ancient. Our language, though\\nunequal to the Italian in flexibility, is not deftitute\\nof a confiaerable degree of this quality. Whoever\\nconfiders the cliverfity of ftyle in feme of our beft wri-\\nters, will difcover in our tongue fuch a circle of ex-\\npreflion, fuch a power of accommodation to the vari-\\nous taftes of men, as redounds much to its honour.\\nOur language has been -thought to be very deficient\\nin harmony of found yet the melody of its verifica-\\ntion, its power of fu poetical numbers, with-\\nut the of rhymes is a fufRcient proof, that\\nis far unharrnonious. Even the hiding\\nfound of which it has been aecufed, obtains lefs fre-\\nquently, than has been fufpecled. For in many\\nwords, and in the final fyllables efpecially, the letter\\nj- has the found of 2, which is one of the founds on\\nwhich the ear refts with pleafure as in has^ thft s\\nhves^ke ar x, c.\\nIt jnuft however be admitted, that Pmbotlinefs i-s\\nnot the diftinguiihing property cf the Erigliih tongue.\\nStrength and e-xprellivenefs, rather than grate and mel-\\nody, conftitute its character. It poxTefTes alfo the prop-\\nerty of being the moil limpleof ail the European diale\u00c2\u00a3is\\nin its form and conftruciion, It is free from the intrica-\\ncy of cafes, declenfions, modes, and tenfes. Its words\\nare fubje\u00c2\u00a3l to fewer variations from their original form*\\nthan thofe cf any other language. Its nouns have no\\ndiflineiion of gender, except what is made by nature\\nund but one variation in cafe. Its adjectives admit\\nno change, except what express the degree of", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH TONGUE, 6\\nj\\ncompanion. Its verbs, inftead of the varieties c\\n[y four or live changes in\\ns and auxiliary\\nthe ncancy while the\\nprincipal words for the n F e their forrri\\nunaltered. Fence our language -acquires a fi\\nand facility, which are the caufe of its\\njy written i with inaccuracy. We iif\\nine tt II in it may be acquired with-\\nout and that in a fyntax la narrow and\\nlimited as ours, there is nothing which requires at-\\ntention. But the fundamental rules of fyntax are\\ncommon to the Erlglifh and to the ancient tongues\\nand regard to them is abfelutely requisite for writ\\nor Cpeaking with propriety.\\nWhatever he the advantages or defects of our fen-\\nguagej it certainly cleferves, in the higheft degree, our\\niludy and attention, The Greeks and Romans in the\\nmeridian of ihelrgloryj bellowed i :ft cultivation\\non their refpeclive languages, TheFrench and Italians\\nLave employed much fiudy upon theirs; and their ex\\ne is w\\nof imitation. For, whatever knowl-\\njq gained by the iludy of other languages,\\nit can\\nr be communicated with advantage, unlefs\\nby thole wl\\nlo can write and fpeak their own language\\netv. Let the matter of an author be ever\\nkQ good and ufefuh, his compofitions will always fufFev-\\nin the pubiick efteem, if his expreffion he deficient in\\npurity or propriety, At the fame time, the attainment\\nof a correct and elegant (lyie is an object which de-\\nmands application and labour. If any one fuppofe he\\ncan catch it merely by the ear, or acquire it by a\\nperufal of feme of our good authors, he will be much\\nppointed, The many grammatical errors^ the", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "6:\\\\ STYLE; PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION.\\nmany impure jexpreffiptiSj which are found in authors\\n)m being c tible, demonftrate\\ny of our age is previoufiy\\nite ..ting it with propriety, purity, and\\nnee.\\nTCU1TY, AND PRECISION.\\ninner in which a man\\ns. It is a pidlure of\\nThe qu r a good ffyle maybe ranged under\\ntwo heads, perfpicjuity and ornament. It will readily\\nbe admitted, that berfpicuity is the fundamental qual-\\nity of a good (lylel Wit righteft orna-\\nthrough toe darkj and perplex\\nad of pleafing the reader. If we be forced to fol-\\ncare to paufe, and to read\\nover his fentences a fecond time, in order to underftand\\nthem fully, he will not pleafe us long. Men are too\\nto relifli fo much labour. Though they may\\nire an author s depth, after they have\\ndiscovered his meaning, they will feldom be inclined\\nto look a fecond time into his book.\\nPer requires attention, firft to firlgle words\\nphrafes, and then to the conftruflion of fentences.\\nzn considered with refpecl to words and phrafes*\\nitreq kefe three qualities, purity, propriety, and\\nand propriety of 1; are often ufed\\n:r and indeed thev are", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "STYLE, PERSPICUITY, ANB PRECISION. 65\\nnearly allied. A diftinction, however, obtains\\nbetween them. Purity is the ufe of fuch words and\\nconstructions as belong to the idiom of a part\\nlar language, in opposition to words and phrafes\\nwhich are imported from other languages; or\\nwhich are obfolete, or newly coined, or employed\\nwithout proper authority. Propriety is the choice\\nof fuch words as the bell and moil eft uiage\\nhas appropriated to thofe ideas which we int.\\nto exprefs by them. It implies a con-eft and hap-\\npy application of them, in opposition to vulgar or\\nTow expreffionsj and to words and phrafes lefs fignifi-\\ncant of the ideas we intend to convey. Style may\\nbe pure, that is, it may be ftricUy Englifh without\\nScotticifms or Gallicifms, or ungrammatical expreiiions\\nof any kind, and yet be deficient in propriety. The\\nwords may be illy fele\u00c2\u00a3ted 3 not adapted to the fub-\\nje6t, nor fully expreilive of the authors mean!\\nHe took them indeed from the general mafs of Eng-\\nfifli words but his choice was made without 11:\\nBut flyle cannot be proper without being pure it is\\nthe union of purity and propriety, which renders it\\ngraceful and perfpicuous.\\nThe exact meaning of precision may be learnt from\\nthe etymology of the word. It is derived from pro*\\ncidere to cut off; and Signifies retrenching all fu-\\nperfluities, and pruning the expreffion in fuch manner,\\nas to exhibit neither more nor lefs than the ideas\\nintended to be conveyed.\\nWords, employed to exprefs ideas, may be faulty\\nin three refpe\u00c2\u00a3ts. They may either not exprefs the\\nideas which the author means, _ 1 ethers which\\nare only related j or they may exprefs xsiok ideas, but", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "not co\\nmp\\n(b T\\nlift, n\\nr Vt\\nieives\\nur.\\n66 STYLE, PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION.\\n*ly 5 or tl y may exprefs them toother\\ni -g tii re titan* he intends. Preufion is\\na fe three faults but parti ulaily to the;\\nfeeble writers are very apt to fall!\\nf a mu titude of words to make them-\\n:1 odj as ihay hin T c, more dift n\u00c2\u00a3t-\\niy but thej only oriiound the reader. The:\\nimage, as they place it before you, is always\\ndoubie. i an author tells us of his hero s*\\ncourage in the cay of battle the expreffion is precile,\\nand we underfland it [ully. Rut if$ fram a defire of\\nmultiplying words, he praife his courage zAid fortitude\\nat the moment he joins tlieie words together, our\\nidea begins to waver. He ihtends to exprefs one\\ni\\nquality more iirongly but he is in fa\u00c2\u00a3r. expjefling\\ntwo. Courage refills danger ^fortitude fupports pain.\\nThe occadons of exerting the ities .are different\\nand, being. led to think of both i wren only\\nm (houid engage attenti v is ren-\\ni unfteady, and our conception of the objecV.\\nindiitinil.\\nThe great Tcurce of a loofe flyle, the oppente of\\ni, is the injudicious life of words called fy\\n[y in any langus ;e are there two w\\nthat convey fely the lame idea,; and a perform\\nperfectly ac( ited with the propriety of the lan-\\nguage, will always be able to obferve. fomething by\\nwhich they are diftinguiflied.. In our language many\\ninstances may be givenof difference in meaning among\\nwords, reputed fynonimous and, as. the fubjeft is\\nimportant, we (hall point cut a few of them.\\nSurpr i ds ajicmi/hed) amazed, confounded* We are\\nfurprifed at what is new or unexpected we are aC\\ntcnilhed at what is vail or great j we are amwedafo", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "STTYLS, PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION 67\\nwhat is incomprehenfible we are confounded by\\nwhat is mocking )r t r:\\npr i vanity, Pride mak^s us edeem ourfelves y\\nVan; US d:fii rs.\\nHniightluef itinefs is founded on a\\nhigh \u00e2\u0096\u00bapinion oi uiiaclves diftlain on a low opinion..\\nof others.\\nu weary to fa pus. Gbntini the lame thing\\nwearies us labour fatigues us. A man is wearied*\\nby (landing he is fatigued by walking.\\n21? alh- r todetejll To abhor imports rhnply ftrong;\\nSiflike to deteia: i/nporrs likewife ilrong difapproba-\\ntion. We abhor being in dubc we deteil treachery.\\nTo invent, to dij cover. We invent things which are\\nnew we dlfeover what is hidden. Galileo invented\\nthe telefcope Harvey tiifcovertd the circulation o\u00c2\u00a3\\\\\\nEntire complete^ A thing is entire, when it w;\\nnone of its parts complete, v,hen it wants none of\\nthe appendages v- jug to it: A man ma\\noccupy an entire houfe 5 though he have not one ccn\\nplete apartment.\\nEnough^]] Relent. Enough relates to the quantity,.\\nwhich we wifli to have of a thing. Sufficient relates\\na ufe that is ro be \\\\x\\\\?Ac of it. Hence\\ncomnaoiiiy (igniHes a greater quantity than fuiikient\\ndoes. The covetous man never has enough though\\nhe has what is fufficient for natui e,\\nI Thefe are a few among many inoolanoes of words in\\nour language, which by carelefs writers are apt to be.\\nmiftaken far fviiooinious. r rhe more che di:ti oQion\\nin the f fuch rds is regarded, the moroa\\njjKeurately and iorebly fliall we fpeak aau wrhe*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "6S STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nSTRUCTURE OE SENT:\\nPROPER conflruciioti of fentences is of\\nfiich importance in every fpecies of compofition, that\\nwe cannot be too itri\u00c2\u00a3t or minute in our attention to\\nit. For, whatever be the fribjc if the fentences be\\nconftru\u00c2\u00a3ied in a clumfy, perplexed, or feeble manner,\\nthe work cannot be read with pleafure, nor even with\\nprofit. But by attention to thq rules which relate to\\nthis part of ftyle we acquire the habit of expreffing\\nourfelves with perfpicuity ana elegance and if a dif-\\norder happen to arife in io me of cur fentences, we\\nimmediately fee where it lies, and are able to recti-\\nfy it,\\nThe properties mole eileniur to a perfect fentencc\\nare r following, I. filefrnefs. 2. Unity.\\n3. Strength. 4. Harmony.\\nAmbiguity is oppofed toclearnefs, and arifes from\\ntwo caufes either from a wrong choice of words, or\\na wrc 3cationof them. Of the choice of words,\\n:irds perfpicuity, we have already fpoken.\\nition of them we are now to treat. From\\nthe nature of our language a capital rule in the ar-\\nirxt of our fentences is, that words or mem-\\nbers mod nearly related, flfould be placed as near to\\neach other :ble, that their .mutual relation may\\nrule is frequently neglefted even\\nod writers. A few initances will {how both its\\nimportance and application.\\nIn the pofitionof adverbs, which are ufed to qualify\\nthe figni fication of fome thing which either precedes", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 6$\\nor follows them, a good deal of nicety is to be obftrv-\\nM By greatnefs, fays AddiftH, I do not only\\nsail the bulk of any (ingle objeft, but the large-\\nC4 mfsof a whole view. Here the place of the ad-\\nverb only makes it limit the verb mean. I do not on-\\nly mean. The queftion may then be afked, What\\nhe more than mean Had it been placed after\\nftill it would have been wrong, for it might then\\nked, What is meant beOde the bulk P Is it the\\ny other property Its proper place is after\\nthe v ecf 4( By greatnefs I do not mean the\\nany tingle pfeje\u00c2\u00a3t only j for -then, when it\\nis aiked, What does he mean more than the bulk of\\na fingle object the anfwer comes out precifely as the\\nauthor intends, u the largenefs of a whole view.\\nTheifm/ lays Lord Shaftcfbury, u can only be oppof-\\nu ed to polytheifm or atheifm. It may be a ed\\nIs theifm capablex f nothing die, except feeii\\nto polytheifm or atheifm This is e words\\nliterally mean through the improper collocation of\\nm/y. He ought to have faid, Theifm can be oppof-\\ned only to polytheifm or atheifm. inaccuracies of\\nthis kind occafion little ambiguity in common dif-\\ncourfe, becaufe the tone and emphafis, ufed by the\\nfpeaker, generally make the meaning perfprcuous. J3ut\\nin writing, where a perfon fpeaks to the eye, he ought\\nto be more accurate and fo to connect adverbs with\\ntthc words they q that his meaning cannot be\\naken on the firft infpeftion.\\nWhen a circumflance is interpofed in the middle\\nof a fentence, it fometimes requires attention to place\\nit in fuch m timer as to divert, it of all ambiguity,\\nForinftance, Are thefe deflgns, fays Lord Ec.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nbroke, t( which .any man, who Is born a Briton, in any\\ncircaniitariC#(hiUanv fituadon, ought to he\\nuned\\nf or afraid to avow Here we are in doubt whether\\nthe phrafes, in any ctrcumJkanceS) in any fiiuation^ be\\nconnected with u a man born in Britain j JJ or with that\\nman s avowing his defigns. If the latter, as feems\\nmo ft likely, was intended to be the meaning, the ar-\\nrangement ought to be this, Are thefe defigns, which\\nany man who is born a Briton, ought to be afham-\\nu ed or afraid in any ci re um fiances, in any fituarion,.\\nto avow\\nStill more attention is requisite to a proper difpofi-\\ntion of the relative pronouns zvhc which, whaty whofe\\nand of all thofe particles which exprefs the connex-\\nion of the parts of fpeech. As all reafoning depends\\nupon this connexion, we cannot, be too. accurate with\\nregard to it. A fmair error may obfeure the meaning\\nof a whole fentence and even where the meaning.\\nis apparent, yet if thefe relatives be mifplaeed, we\\nalways find fomething awkward and- disjointed in the\\nftrurlure of the period. The following paflage in Bifif-\\nep Sherlock s Sermons will exemplify thefe ofefefv\\ntoons I\\nthe acci\\nfolly to pretend to arm ourfelves againfl\\nits of life, by heaping up treafures which\\nl protect us againft, but the good provi-\\nheavenl\\nUhcr. W hich gram mat ic-\\nwhich\\ne immediatejy preceding v.\\nhere is ;fures a would convert the whole\\nperiod into nonfenfe. The fentence fhould have been\\netend, by heaping-\\ninfl the accidents\\nTt-\\nii\\no\\nresj to arm\\nfe, again ft nr\\n;ood providence of our heavenly Father*!*\\nwhich nothing can protecl us, but.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nWe now proceed to the fecond quality of a well ar-\\nranged fentence, which we termed its unity. This\\nis a capital property. The very nature of a f^fitence\\nimplies one proportion to be exprefTed. It may con-\\nGit of parts s but thefe parts mufc he fo cfoWlj^t^and\\nflier, as to make an ^^\u00c2\u00abB| one ohjecr^nl.y\\nupon the mind,\\nTo prefcrve this unity, we- mufc fitft obferve, that\\nduring the courfe of the ferite fiMie\u00c2\u00a3t. ihould be\\nchanged as little as poffibie. There is generally in ev-\\nery ft men ce ibme perfon or thing which is the gov-\\nerning word. This mould be eontir/fftd fo, if poffibie\\nfrom the beginning to the end of it Should a man\\nexprefs h in this manner After we came to\\nanchor, thev put me on fhore, where I was fainted\\nby all my friends, who received me with the ^Tca\\neft kindnefs Thoudi the obiects in t ence\\nare fufScientlv connected vet, bv fiiifting fo often\\nthe fubject and perfon, we they, I, and who y thev\\npear in fo d ifuni ted a view, that the fenfe and connex-\\nion are nearly loir. The fentence is restored to its\\n:r unity by eonilrucling it thus 1\\nto anchor, 1 was put on (here, whe\\nby all my friends, who received sue e great-\\neft kindnefs.\\nThe {econe rule is, nev\\nideas, which have fo littl\\nwell be divided into V\\nof this rule never falls to\\nindeed is fo\\nextreme, to err rather\\nthan by one, that is\\na tvz\\nits errect\\nand coniuied. ihe\\naiion of Plutarch will", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "72 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\njuftify this opinion Their march, fays the author,\\nfpeaking of the Greeks. was through an uncultivat-\\ni( eel country, whole favage inhabitants fared hardly,\\nhaving no other riches than a breed of lean fl\\nwhole fie Lh was rank and nnfavoury ti of their\\ncontinual fading upon fea fifli. le fubjeft\\nis repeatedly changej|. march of the Greeks, the\\ndci c. through whofe country\\nthey -cc P, and the reafon\\nof ti. fagreiable food, make a jui\\nof T^%(^ e t0 eac other, which the\\nreader c; at confiderable difhculty compre-\\nhend in one view.\\nThe third rule for preferving the unity of a knt^ncc\\nis, keep clear of parenthefes in the middle of it. Thefe\\nmay on fome occafions have a fpirited appearance, as\\nprompted, by a certain vivacity of thought, which can\\nglance happily afide, as it is going along. But in\\ngeneral their efreft is extremely bad being a perplex-\\ned method of difpofing of fome thought, which a wri-\\nter has not art enough to introduce in its proper place.\\nIt is needlefs to produce any inftances, as they occur\\nfo frequently among Incorrect writers.\\nThe fourth rule for the unity of a fentence is, bring\\nit to a full and perfect clofe. It needs not to be ob-\\nferved, that an unfinifhed fentence is no fentence with\\nrefpeft to grammar. But fentences often occur, which\\nare more than finifhed. When we have arrived at\\nwhat we expected to be the conclusion when we are\\ncome to the word, on which the mind is naturally led\\nto reft unexpectedly fome circumfiance is added,\\nwhich ought to have been omitted, or difpofed of elfo\\nwhere. Thus, for inftance, in the following fentence", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 73\\nfrom Sir William Temple the adje ion to the fentence\\nis entirely foreign to it. Speaking of Burnet s Theory\\nof the Earth, and Fontenelle s Plurality of Worlds\\nThe firft, fays he, could not end his learned trea-\\ntife withouta panegyrick of modern learning in com-\\nu parifon of the ancient and the other falls fo grofsly\\nu into the cenfure of the old poetry, and preference of\\nc the new, that I could not read either of thefe ftrains\\nu without fome indignation which no quality among\\nmen is fo apt to raife in me, as felf fufficiency.\\nthe word indignation concludes the fentence for\\nthe lafl member is added after the proper clofe.\\nSTRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nV V E now proceed to the third quality of a\\ncorrect fentence, which we termed Strength. By th ls\\nis meant fuch a difpofition of the feveral words and\\nmembers as will exhibit the fenfe to the belt advan-\\ntage as will render the impreffion, which the period\\nis intended to make, mofl full and complete and\\ngive every word and every member its due weight and\\nforce. To the production of this effect, perfpicuity\\nand unity are absolutely neceflary but more is\\nrequifite. For a fentence may be clear it may\\nalfo be compaft, or have the requifite unity and\\nyet, by fome unfavourable circumftance in the ftruc-\\nture, it may fail in that ftrength or Hvelinefs of im-\\npreffion, which a more happy collocation would pro-\\nduce.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "74 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nThe firfl rule for promoting the flrength of a fen-\\ntenceis, take from it all redundant words. Whatev-\\ner can be eafily fupplied in the mind 5 is better omitted\\nin the expreflion thus, Content with ferving a tri-\\nc umph, he refuted the honour of it, is better than\\nii being content with deferving a triumph, he refufed\\nthe honour of it. It is one of the mod ufeful exer-\\ncifes on reviewing what we have written, to contra\u00c2\u00a3l\\nthat circuitous mode of expreffion, and to cut off\\nthofe ufelefs excrefcences which are ufually found in\\na firfl; draught. But we muft be cautious of prun-\\ning fo clofely, as to give a hardnefs and drynefs to the\\ni lyie. Some leaves muft be left to fhelter and adorn\\nthe fruit.\\nAs fentences mould be cleared of fuperfluous words,\\nfo alfo of fuperfluous members. Oppofed to this is\\nthe fault w r e frequently meet, the lad member of a\\nperiod being only a repetition of the former in a dif-\\nferent drefs. For example, fpeaking of beauty, The\\nvery firfl: difcovery of it, lays Addifon, ftrikes\\niC the mind with inward joy, and fpreads delight\\ncs through all its faculties, In this inftan.ce fcarcely\\nany thing is added by the fecond member of the fen-\\ntenceto what was exprefled in the fit ft. Though the\\nflowing ftyle of Addilbn may palliate fuch negligence,\\nvet it is generally true, that language divefted of this\\nprolixity is more firong and beautiful.\\nThe fecond rule for promoting the flrength of a\\nfentence is, pay particular attention to the ufe of cop-\\nulatives, relatives, and particles, employed for tranfi*.\\ntion and connexion. Some obfervations on this fttte\\nje which appear ufeful, (hall be mentioned,", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nWhat is termed fplitting of particles, or feparating a\\nprepoGtion from the noun which it governs, is ever\\nto be avoided. For example, Though virtue bor-\\nrows no affiftance from, yet it may often be ac-\\ncorripanied by, the advantages of fortune, In fueli\\nances we fufferpain from the yiolent feparation of\\ntwo things, which by nature are clolely united.\\nThe ilrength of a fentence is much injured by an\\nunnecefiary multiplication of relative and demon-\\nflracive parades. If a writer fay, 4i there is nothing\\nu which difgufts me fooner than -.the empty pomp of\\nFanguage he exprefles hirnfelf lefs forcibly, than\\nif he had laid, Nothing fjifgufts me fooner than\\nthe empty pomp of language The former mode\\npfexpreffion in the introduction of a fubject, or in\\nlaying down a propoGtion, to which particular atten-\\ntion is demanded, is very proper but in ordinary\\ndifcourfe the latter is far preferable.\\nWith regard to the r^Sll^^ fhaM only obierve,\\nthat in converfation and epiftolary writing it may be\\nomitted but in compoGtions of a ferious or dignified\\nkind it fhould conrdantiybe inferred.\\nOn the copulative particle and which occurs fo o:~\\nten, feveral observations are to be made. It is evident,\\nthat an unneceflary repetition of it enfeebles ftyle.\\nBy omitting it we often make a clofer connexion, ;i\\nquicker fucceffion of objects, than when it is iriferted\\nbetween them. Veni vidi, via exprefies with\\nmore fpirit the rapidity of conqueft, than if connect-\\ning particles had been ufed. When, however, we\\nwifhto prevent a quick tranGtion from one objeel to\\nanother j and when enumerating objecls which ws\\nwifh to appear as diftindt from each other as pofli-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "/O STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nble copulatives may be multiplied with peculiar ad-\\nvantage. Thus Lord Boiingbroke fays with proprie-\\nty, Such a man might fall a victim to power; but\\ntruth, and reafon, and liberty, would fall with him.\\nThe third rule for promoting the Rrength of a fen-\\nt^nce is, difpofe of the principal word or words in that\\npart of the fentenee, where they will make the mod\\nlinking impreffion. Perfpicuity ought fir ft to be (ind-\\need i and the nature of oar language allows no great\\nliberty of collocation. In general the important words\\nare placed at the beginning of a fenten.ee. Tims Mr.\\nAddifon t\u00e2\u0082\u00ac The pleafures of the imagination, taken\\nin their full extent, are not fo grofs as thofe of\\nf( fenfej nor fo refined as thofe of the underftand-\\nc ing. n This order feerns to be the mod plain and\\nnatural. Sometimes, however, when we propofe giv-\\ning weight to a fentenee -it is ufeful to fufpend the\\nmeaning a little, and then to bring it out fully at the\\nclofe. Thus, fays Pope, u on whatever fide we.\\ncontemplate Homer, what principally ftrikes us i\\nhis wonderful invention.\\nThe fourth rule for promoting the ftrength of fen-\\ntences is, make the members of them go on riling in\\ntheir, importance one above another. This kind of ar-\\nrangement is called a climax, and is ever regarded as\\na beauty in compofitlon. Why it pleafes is fufficient-\\nIj evident. In all things we love to advance to what\\nis more and more beautiful rather than to follow a\\nretrograde order. Having viewed fome considerable\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3l, we cannot without pain defcend to an infe-\\nriour circumftance. Cavendum eft fays Quintilian,\\nc tie decrefcat oratio et foriior fubjungatur aliquid infirm\\nu mm A weaker affertion fhould never follow", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES* 77\\nflronger one and, when a fentence confifts of two\\nmembers, the longed fhould in general be the con-\\neluding one. Periods, thus divided, are pronounced\\nmore eafily and, the fhortefi member being placed\\nfir ft, we carry it more readily in our memory, as we\\nproceed to the fecond, and fee the connexion of the\\ntwo more clearly. Thus to fay, u When our paflions\\nhave forfaken us, we flatter ourfelves with the belief\\nthat we have forfaken them, is both more grace-\\nful and more perfpicuous, than to begin with the\\nlongeft part of the propofition We flatter our-\\nfl felves with the belief that we have forfaken our paf-\\nfions, when they have forfaken us.\\nThe fifth rule for conftru\u00c2\u00a3Hng fentences with\\nftrength is, avoid concluding them with an adverb, a\\nprepofition, or any infignifkant word. By fuch con-\\nelufions ftyle is always weakened and degraded. Some-\\ntimes, indeed, where the ftrains and fignificancy reft\\nchiefly upon words of this kind, they ought to have\\nthe principal place allotted them. No fault, for ex-\\nample, can be found with this fentence of Baling-\\nbroke In their profperity my friends (hall never\\nli hear of me in their aclverfity always where\\n4 never and afwayj, being emphatical words, are fo plac-\\ned as to make a ftrong impreffioit .But, when thefe\\ninferiour parts of fpeech are introduced, as crreum-\\nftanqes, or as qualifications of more important words,_\\nthey fhould always be difpofed of in the lea ft confpic-\\n110 as parts of the period.\\nWe vays avoid concluding 3 Vza ^acc or\\nmeml:\\nl fl c\\nl- uj\\n15 muca bcijter to lay,\\na z", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "73 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.\\nwife men are often guilty, than to fay, cc Avarice-\\nis a crime which wife men are often guilty of.\\nThis is a phrafeology which all correct writers fhun,\\nA complex verb, compounded of a fimple verb and\\na fubfequent prepofition, is alfo an ungraceful con-\\nclufion of a period as, bring about, clear up give over\\nand many others of the fame kind inftead of which*,\\nif a iimple verb be employed, it will terminate the\\nfentence with more ftr-ength. Even the pronoun\\nefpecially when joined with fome of the prepofitions,..\\nas, with it, in it to it cannot without violation of\\nrrace be the concluuon of a fentence. Any phrafe,\\nwhich expreffes a circumitance only, cannot conclude\\na fentence without great inelegance. Circumftances\\nindeed are like unftiapely Rones, in a building, which,\\ntry the fkill of an artift where to place them with\\nthe lead offence. We fhould not crowd too many\\nof them together but rather interfperfe them- in dif-\\nferent parts of the fentence, joined with the principal;,\\nwords on which they depend. Thus, for inftance,\\nwhen Dean Swift fays, What I had the honour of\\nmentioning to your Lordfhip fome time ago in con-\\nverfation, was not a new thought thefe two cir-\\ncumftances, fome time ago and in converfation which are\\njoined, would have been better feparated thus\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci What I had the honour fome time ago of mention--\\na ing to your Lordlhip in converfation.\\nThe fixth and lad rule concerning the flrength of a-\\nfentence is this, in. the members of it, where two\\nthings are compared or contrafted where either re-\\nfemblance or opposition is to be expreffe.i iocat re-\\nfemblance in the language and coiiftruUion ought to\\nbe ohferved. The following paflage from Pope s pre*.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "HARMONY OF SENTENCES, 7\u00c2\u00a3\\nface to his Homer beautifully exemplifies this rule.\\nf 1 Homer was the greater genius Virgil the better\\nf artift in the one we admire the man; in the other\\nthe work. Homer hurries us with a commanding\\nimpetuofity Virgil leads us with an attractive maj-\\nefty. Homer fcatters with a. generous profufion 5\\nVirgil beftows with a careful munificence. Homer,\\nlike the Nile, pours out his riches with a fudden\\noverflow Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a\\nconftant dream. When we look upon their ma-\\nw chines, Homer feerns like his own Jupiter in his ter-\\nu rors, (baking Olympus, fcattering lightnings, and fir-\\ning the heavens- Virgil like the fame power in his\\nc benevolence, coun.felling with the gods, laying plans\\nfor empires, and ordering his whole creation. Peri-\\nods, thus conftrucied, when introduced with propriety,\\nand not too frequently repeated, have a fenfible beau-\\nty. But, if fuch a .conftru\u00c2\u00a3lion be aimed at in every\\nfentence, it betrays into a difagreeable uniformity,\\nand produces a regular jingle in the period, which\\ntires the ear, and plainly difcavers affectation.\\nSTRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. HARMONY-.\\nXX WING confidered fentences with regard\\nto their meaning under the heads of Perfpicuity,\\nUnity, and Strength; we fhall now coniider them\\nwith refpe\u00c2\u00a3l to their found.\\nIn the harmony of periods two things are to be con-\\nfidered. Firft, agreeable found or modulation in geae-\\ncalj without any particular expreffion. Next, the found", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "So HARMONY OF SENTENCES\\nfo ordered as to become exprefiive of the fenfe. Thff\\nfir ft is the more common the fecond the fuperiour\\nbeauty.\\nThe beauty of mufical conflru\u00c2\u00a3iion depends upon\\nthe choice and arrangement of words. Thofe words\\nare mod pleafing to the ear, which are compofed of\\nfmooth and liquid founds, in which there is a proper\\nintermixture of vowels and confonants without too\\nmany harfti confonants, or too many open vowels in\\nfucceflion. Long words are generally more pleafing,\\nto the ear than monofyllables and thofe are the molt\\nmufical, which are not wholly compofed of long and\\nfhort fyliabies, but of an intermixture of them fuch\\nas delight^ amufe, velocity, celerity, beautiful, impetuofity..\\nIf the words, however, which compofe a fentence, be\\never fo well chofen and harmonious yet, if they be\\nunfkilfully arranged, its mufick is entirely loft. As an.\\ninftance of a mufical fentence, we may take the fol-\\nlowing from Milton We ihall conduft you to a\\nhill fide, laborious indeed at the firft afcent but\\nu elfe, fo fmooth, fo green, fo full of goodly profpecls\\ns and melodious founds on every fide, that the harp\\nc of Orpheus was not more charming* Every thing\\nin this fentence confpires to render it harmonious.\\nThe words are well chofen laborious, fimoth, green,\\ngpodIy y melodious, charming and fo happily arranged,,\\nthat no alteration can be made without injuring the\\nmelody.\\nThere are two things on which the mufick of a fen-\\ntence principally depends thefe are, the proper dif-\\nfcribution of the feveral members of it, and the cloia\\nor cadence of the \\\\fchole\u00c2\u00ab", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 8f\\nFirft, the diftribution of the feveral members fhould\\nbe carefully regarded. Whatever is eafy to the or-\\ngans of fpeech, is always grateful to the ear. While\\na period advances, the termination of each member\\nforms a paufe in the pronunciation and thefe paufes\\nfhould be fo diftributed, as to bear a certain mufical\\nproportion to each other. This will be be ft illuftrat-\\ned by examples. This difcourfe concerning the eafi-\\n5 nefs of God s commands does all along fuppofe and\\nacknowledge the difficulties of the firft entrance up*\\non a religious courfe except only in thofe perfcns.\\nwho have had the happinefs to be trained up to relig-\\nion by the eafy and infenfible degrees of a pious and\\nc virtuous education. This fentence is far from be*\\ning harmonious, owing chiefly to this, that there is but\\none paufe in it, by which it is divided into two mem-\\nbers each of which is fo long as to require a confid-\\nerable ftretch of breath in pronouncing it. On the\\ncontrary, let us obferve the grace of the following paf-\\nfage from Sir William Temple, in which he fpeaks\\nfarcaftically of man. u But, God be thanked, his\\nu pride is greater than his ignorance and what he\\nu wants in knowledge he fupplies by fufficiency*\\nc When he has looked about him as far as he can,\\nhe concludes there is no more to be feen when he\\nis at the end of his line, he is at the bottom of the\\nocean when he has {hot his beft, he is fure none\\never did, or even can (hoot better, or beyond it,\\nHis own reafon he holds to be the certain meafure\\nu of truth and his own knowledge, of what is poffr-\\nu ble in nature. Here every thing is at once eafy to\\nthe breath, and grateful to the ear. We mud how*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a72 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.\\never obferve, that if cornpofition abound with fen-\\ntences which have two many reds, and thefe placed at\\nintervals apparently meafured and regular, it is apt to\\nfavour of affectation.\\nThe next thing which demands attention, is the\\nclofe or cadence of the period. The only important\\nrule, which can here be given, is this, when we aim\\nat dignity or elevation, the found ihould increafe to\\nthe lad the longed members of the period, and the\\nfulled and mod fonoro us words fhould be refervedfor\\nthe conclufion As an indance of this the following\\nfentence of Addifon may be given. It fills the mind\\nwith the largeit variety of ideas converfes with its\\nobjects at the greateii didance and continues the\\nu longed in action without being tired or fatiated with\\nu its proper enjoyments Here every reader mud be\\nfenfible of beauty in the jud diftribution of the paufes,\\nand in the manner of rounding the period, and of\\nbringing it to a full and harmonious clofe.\\nIt may be remarked, that little words in the conclu-\\nfion of a fentence are as injurious to melody, as they\\nare inconiiltent with drength of expreifion. A mufic-\\nal clofe in our language feems in general to require\\neither the lad fyllable, or the lad but one, to be a long\\nfyllable. Words which confid chiefly of feort fylla-\\nbles, as contrary^ particular^ retrofpeEi^ feldom terminate\\na fentence harmonioufly, unlefs a previous run of long\\nfyllables have rendered them pleafmg to the ear.\\nSe?.ftences, however, which are fo condrufted as to\\nmake the found always fwell toward the end, and red\\neither on the laft or penult fyllable, give a difcourfe the\\ntone of declamation. If melody be not varied, the ear\\nis foon cloyed with it. Sentences conftrufted in tht", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "HARMONY OF SENTENCES, 83\\nfame manner, with the paufes at equal intervals, (hould\\nnever fucceed each other. Short Sentences mud be\\nblended with long and fwelling ones, to render dif-\\nccurfe Sprightly as well as magnificent\\nWe now proceed to treat of a higher Species of\\nharmony; the found adapted to the fenfe. Of this\\nwe may remark two degrees. Firft, the current of\\nfound Suited. to the tenor of a diScourSe. Next, a pecu-\\nliar refemblance effe\u00c2\u00a3led between feme obje\u00c2\u00a3t and the\\nfounds that are employed in describing it.\\nSounds have in many refpecls an intimate corres-\\npondence with our ideas partly natural, partly pro-\\nduced by artificial aiTociations. Hence any one modu-\\nlation of found continued, Stamps on ftyle a certain\\ncharacter and exprefiion. Sentences, conftru\u00c2\u00a3ted with\\nCiceronian fullneSs, excite an idea of what is import-\\nant, magnificent, and Sedate. But they Suit no vio-\\nlent paffion, no eager reaSoning, no familiar addreSs.\\nThefe require meaSures brificer, eafier, and often more\\nabrupt. It were as ab Surd to write a panegyrick and\\nan inventive in a ftyle of the fame cadence, as to Set\\nthe words of a tender love-Song to the tune of a war-\\nlike march.\\nBe fide the general correspondence of the current of\\nSound with the current of thought, a more particular\\nexprefiion of certain objefts by reiembling founds\\nmay be attempted. In poetry this reSemblance is\\nchiefly to be Sought. It obtains Sometimes indeed in\\nproSe. competition but there in an inferiour degree*\\nThe founds of words may be employed for repre-\\nsenting chiefly three claiTss of objects firft, other\\nSounds^ Secondly, motions 5 and thirdly, the emotion!\\nand paflions of the mind.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "84 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.\\nIii mod languages the names of many particular\\nfounds are fo formed, as to bear fome refemblance of\\nthe found which they fignify as with us the ivhift-\\nling of winds, the buzz and hum of infects, the hifs of\\nferpents, and the crafh of falling timber and many\\nother iiiftanees, where the name is plainly adapted to\\nthe found it reprefents. A remarkable example of\\nthis beauty may be taken from two pafiages in Mil-\\nton s Paradife Loft in one of which he defcribes\\nthe found, made by the opening of the gates of hell\\nin the other, that made by the opening of the gates\\nof heaven. The contrail between the two exhibits to\\ngreat advantage the art of the poet. The flril is the\\nopening of hell s gates j\\nOn a fudden open fly\\nWith impetuous recoil and jarring found\\nTh infernal doors and on their hinges grate\\nHarfli thunder.\\nObferve the fmoothnefs of the other\\nHeaven open d wide\\nHer ever during gates, harmonious found\\nOn golden hinges turning\\nIn the fecond place the found of words is frequent-\\nly employed to imitate motion as it is fwift or\\nflow, violent or gentle, uniform or interrupted, eafy\\nor accompanied with effort. Between found and\\nmotion there is no natural affinity yet in the imag-\\nination thare is a ftrong one as is evident from t*he\\nconnexion between mufick and dancing. The poet\\ncan therefore give us a lively idea of the kind of mo~\\ntion he would defcribe by the help of founds which", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "HARMONY OF SENTENCES* 8jJ\\nin oar imagination correfpond with that motion.\\nLong fyllables naturally excite an idea of flow motion 3\\n.as in this line of Virgil,\\n0111 interfefe magna vi brachia tollunt,\\nA fucceffion of fhort fyllables gives the impreflioa\\nof quick motion as,\\nSed fugit interea, fugit trreparabile tcmpu*.\\nThe works of Homer and Virgil abound with in-\\nstances of this beauty which are fo often quoted and\\nfo well known, that it is unnecefiary to produce them.\\nThe third fet of obje s, which the found of words is\\ncapable of reprefenting, confifts of emotions and paf-\\nfions of the mind. Between fenfe and found there\\nappears to be no natural refemblance. But if the ar*\\nxangement of fyllables by their found alone recall one\\nfet of ideas more readily than another, and difpofe\\nthe mind for entering into that affe\u00c2\u00a3Hon which the\\npoet intends to raife fuch arrangement may with\\npropriety be faid to refemble this fenfe. Thus, when\\npleafure, joy, and agreeable obje s are defcribed by\\none who feels his fubjefl, the language naturally\\nruns in fmooth, liquid, and flowing numbers.\\n-Namque ipfa decor am\\nCsfariem nato genetrix, lumenque juventas\\nPurpureum, et laetos oculis afflarat honores.\\nBrifk and lively fenfations exa quicker and more\\nanimated numbers.\\n-Jnvenum manus eaaicat ard\u00c2\u00abrt\\nikittiuin Hcfpenum,", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "$6 ORIGIN AND NATURE\\nMelancholy and gloomy fubje sare naturally cott-\\n*ie\u00c2\u00a3ted with flow meafures and long words.\\nIn thofe deep folittides and awful, cells,\\nWhere heavenly penfive contemplation dwells.\\nAbundant inftances of this kind are fuggefted by a\\nmoderate acquaintance with good poets, either ancient\\n$r modern.\\nORIGIN AND NATURE OF FIGURATIVE\\nLANGUAGE.\\nJL IGURES may be defcribed to be that language\\nwhich is prompted either by the imagination or paffions.\\nThey are commonly divided by rhetoricians into two\\ngreat elaffes, figures of words, and figures of thought.\\nThe former are commonly called tropes, and confift in\\na word s being ufed to fignify fomething different from\\nits original meaning. Hence, if the word be changed\\nthe figure is deftoyed. Thus, for inftance, light\\narifethto the upright in darknefs. Here the trope\\nconfifts in light and darknefs not being taken liter-\\nally, but fubftituted for comfort and adverfity to\\nwhich conditions of life they are fuppofed to bear fomc\\nrefemblance. The other clafs, termed figures of\\nthought, fuppofes the figure to confift in the fenti-\\nment only, while the words are ufed in their literal\\nfenfe as in exclamations, interrogations, apoftro-\\nphes, and comparifons where, though the words be\\nvaried, or tranflated from one language into another,\\nfcke feme figure is ftili preferred. This diftm ioi:", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "OF FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 87\\nhowever is of fmall importance as practice cannot\\nbe afliited by it 9 nor is it always very perfpicuous.\\nTropes are derived in part from the barrennefs of\\nlanguage but principally from the influence, which\\nthe imagination has over all language. The imagina-\\ntion never contemplates any om idea of object as An-\\ngle and alone, but as accompanied by others which\\nmay be confidered as its acceflbries. Thefe acceffo-\\nries often operate more forcibly upon the mind, than\\nthe principal idea itfelf. They are perhaps in their\\nnature more agreeable, or rnore fa miliar to our con-\\nceptions or remind us of a greater variety of import-\\nant circumftances. Hence the name of the accefiory\\nor correfpondent idea is fabftituted 5 although tli^\\nprincipal has a proper and well known name of its\\n\\\\m. Thus, for example, when we defign to\\npoint out the period in which a ft ate enjoyed molt\\nreputation or glory, we might eafily employ the prop-\\ner words for expreihng this but as this in our imag-\\nination is readily connected with the fioufifhing peri-\\nod of a plant or tree, we prefer this correfpondent\\nidea and fay, The Roman Empire flourished moil\\nif under Auguftus. The leader of a faction is a plain\\nexpreflion but, becaufe the head is the principal part\\nof the human body, and is fuppofed to direct all the\\nanimal operations y refting on this refemblance, we\\nfay, u Catiline was the head of his party. 5\\nWe fhall now examine, why tropes and figures con-\\ntribute to the beauty and grace of ftyle. By them lan~\\nguage is enriched, and made more copious. Hence\\nwords and phrafes are multiplied for exprefling all\\nforts of ideas for defcribing even the fmalleft differ-\\nences the niceft Andes and colours of thought", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "$b ORIGIN AND NATURE\\nwhich by proper words alone cannot poffibly be ex-\\nprefled. They alfo give dignity to ftyle, which is de-\\ngraded by the familiarity of common words* Figures,\\nhave the fame effe\u00c2\u00a3t on language, that a rich and\\nfplendid apparel has on a per/on of rank and dignity.\\ntn profe cornpofitions affiftanfce of this kind is often\\nrequihte to poetry it is effential. To fay, the fun\\nrifes/ is common and trite but it becomes a mag...\\nttiScent image, a$ expreifed by Thomfon\\nBut yonder comes the powerful king of day-\\nRejoicing in the eaft.\\nFigures fumffh the pleafure of enjoying two obje s^\\nprefented at the fame time to our view* without con-\\nj fiojj.} the princiapl idsa.together with its acceflbry,,\\nwhich gives it the figurative appearance. When, f5r~\\nexample, inftead of youth/ we fay, the morning\\n11 of life the fancy is inftantly entertained with all\\nthe correfponding circumftances between thefe two\\n\u00c2\u00a9bjeds. At the fame inftant we behold a certain pe-\\nriod of human life, and a certain time of the day fo;\\nconne ed, that the imagination plays between tbem\\nwith delight, and views at once two fimilar objects*\\nwithout embarraffment.\\nFigures are alfo attended with the additional advan-\\ntage of giving us a more clear and ftriking view of\\nthe principal objeft, than if it were exprefled in fim-\\nple terms and freed from its acceiTory idea. They\\nexhibit the objecfr, on which they are employed, in a.\\npi\u00c2\u00a3turefque form they render an abftract conception\\nJn fome degree an object of fenfe they furround it\\nwith circutn (lances, which enable the mind to lay hold\\nof it fteadily, and to contemplate it fully. By a well?", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "3F FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 89\\nadapted figure, even convi\u00c2\u00a3lion is affifted, and a truth\\nis impreffed upon the mind with additional livelinefs\\nand force. Thus in the following pafiage of Dr.\\nYoung When we dip too deep in pleafure, we\\nalways ftir a fediment, that renders it impure and\\nu noxious. When an image prefents fuch a r^fem-\\nblance between a moral and fenfible idea, it ferves like\\nan argument from analogy, to enforce what the au-\\nthor advances, and to induce belief.\\nAll tropes being founded on the relation which\\none obje\u00c2\u00a3l bears to another, the name of the one may\\nbe fuhttituted for that of the other and by this the\\nvivacity of the idea is generally increafed. The rela-\\ntion between a caufe and its effect is one of the firft\\nand Hioft obvious. Hence the caufe is fometimes fie-\\no\\nuratively put for the- effed, Thus Mr Addifon, writ-\\ning of Italy, fays,\\nBlbffomsj and fruits, and flowers together rife,\\nAnd the whole year in g?.y confuiion lies.\\nHere the whole year is plainly meant to fignify\\nthe productions of the year. The effe\u00c2\u00a3t is alio often\\nput for the caufe as grey hairs for old age,\\nwhich produces grey hairs and (hade, for the\\ntrees, which caufe the fnade. The relation be-\\ntween the container and the thing contained is io in-\\ntimate and apparent, as naturally to give rife to tropes*\\nTile impiger haufit\\nSpumantem pater am, et pleno fe proluit auro.\\nWhere it is obvious, that the cup and gold are put\\nfor the liquor, contained in. the golden cup. The\\nname of a country is often uicd to fignify Its inhabit-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "OftlGlN OF NATURE, $C\\nants. To pray for the afiiftarice of Heaven is the fame\\nwith praying for the afliftance of God, who is in heav-\\nen. The relation between a fign and the thing figni-*\\nfied is another fource of tropes. Thus,\\nCedant arma togas concedat laurea lingual.\\nHere the toga, which is the badge of the civil\\nprofeffions, and the laurel, that of military honours^\\nare each of them put for the civil and military charac-\\nters themfelves. Tropes, founded on thefe feveral re-\\nhtions of caufe and effetLt, container and contained,\\nfign and thing fignified, are called by the name of me-\\ntonymy.\\nWhen a trope is founded on the relation between\\nan antecedent and^ its. confequent, it is called a meta-\\nlepils as in the Roman phrafe, fuit, or vixit, J\\nto fignify that one was dead. Fuit Ilium et ingens\\ngloria Teucrum espreiles that the glory of Troy\\nIs no more.\\nWhen the whole is put for a part, or a part for the\\nwhole a genus for a fpecies, or a fpecies for a genus\\nthe Angular number for the plural, or the plural for\\nthe fmgular in general, when any thing Id s,- or any\\nthing more, is put for the precife cbje\u00c2\u00a3i meant the\\nfigure is then termed a fyF,eedoche. We fay, for in-\\nfiance, c A fleet of fo many .fail, inftead of fo many\\n{hips we frequently ufe the head for the per-\\nfan, the pole for the earth, the waves for r\\nthe fea. An attribute is often ufed for its fubjecl t,\\nas, youth and beauty for the young and beautiful j\\nand fome times a fubjetl for its attribute. But the re*\\na by far the moil fruitful, of tropes, is fimilkudej,..\\nwhich is the fole foundation of metaphor.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "MSTAPHQR.:.\\nMETAPHOR.\\nMi\\nLETAPHOR is founded entirely on the\\nrefemblance which one object bears to another, It\\nis therefore nearly allied to fimile or comparifon\\nand is indeed a comparifon in an abridged form.\\nWhen we fay of a great minifter, he upholds the\\n11 ftate, like a pillar, which fupports the weight of\\nan edifice, we evidently make a comparifon; but,\\nwhen we fay of him, he is. the. pillar of the ftate, it\\nbecomes a metaphor.\\nOf all the figures of fpeech none approaches fo near\\nto painting, as metaphor.: It: gives light and ftrength i\\nto description makes intellectual ideas in fome de*\\ngree vifible, by giving them colour, fubftance and fenfi-\\nble qualities. To produce this effect, however, a del-\\nicate hand is. requifite; for by a little inaccuracy we\\nmay introduce confufion inftead of promoting perfpi-\\ncuity. Several rules therefore mull be given for the-\\nproper management of metaphors.\\nThe fir ft rule refpetting metaphors is, they mud be\\nfoiled to the nature of thefubjeft neither too numer-\\nous, nor too gay, n or too elevated for it we mult\\nneither attempt to force thefubjeti by the ufeof them\\ninto a degree of elevation, not congruous to it nor\\non the contrary fuffer it to fall below its proper digni-\\nty. Some metaphors are beautiful in poetry, which\\nwould be unnatural in profe fome are graceful in\\norations, which would be highly improper in historic-\\nal or philosophical compofition. Figures are the drefs\\ncf fentiment. They ihould confequentiy be adapted\\nte the ideas which they are intended to adorn*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "ft? metaphor;\\nThe fecond rule refpe\u00c2\u00a3te the choice of objects*\\nwhence metaphors are to be drawn. The field for\\nfigurative language is very wide. All nature opens\\nKer (lores and allows us to collet! them without re-\\nstraint. But we muft beware of ufing fuch allufions\\nas raife in the mind difagreeable, mean, low, or dirty\\nideas. To render a metaphor perfeii, it mud not only\\nbe apt, but pleafmg it mud entertain as well as en--\\nlighten. Dryden therefore can hardly efcape the im-\\nputation of a very unpardonable breach of delicacy,\\nwhen he cbferves to the Earl of Dorfet, that fome\\nbad poems carry their owners marks about them\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci fome brand or other on this buttock, or that ear\\nu that it is notorious who are the owners of the cattle.\\nThe mod pieafmg metaphors are derived from the\\nfrequent occurrences of art and nature, or from the\\ncivil tranfadtions and cuftoms of mankind. Thus, how\\nexpreffive, yet at the fame time how familiar, is the v\\nimage which Otway has put into the mouth of Metel-\\nlus in hisplay of Caius Marius, where he calls Sulpicius\\nThat mad xvild bull, whom Marius lets loofs\\nOn each occafion, when he d make Ps.ome feel him,\\nTo tofs out. laws and liberties in the air.\\nIn the third place a metaphor mould be founded on a\\na- refemblance, which is clear and ftriking, not far\\nfetched, nor difficult to be difcovered. Harfh or forc-\\ned metaphors are always difpleafing, becaufe they per-\\nplex the reader, and inftead of illuftrating the thought,\\nrender it intricate and confufed.: Thus, for indance,\\nCowley, fpeaking of his miftrefs, exprefles himfelf ia\\ntke following forced and obfcure verfes", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "METAPHOR. f$\\nWe to her ftubborn heart if once mine come-\\nInto the felf-fame room,,\\nTwill tear and blow up all within,\\nLike a grenado, fhot into a magazine.\\nThen lliali love keep the aflies and torn part*--\\nOf both our broken hearts\\nShall out of both one new one make\\nSrom her s the alloy, from mine the metal take\\nEor of her heart he from the flames will find-\\nBut little left behind\\nMine only will remain entire-;\\nNo drofs was there, to perifh in the flie*\\nMetaphors^ borrowed from any of the fciences, e\u00c2\u00a3\\ngecially from particular profeffions, are almofl al-\\nways faulty by their obfcurity.\\nIn the fourth place, we mud never jumble meta-\\nphorical and plain language together never. conftru\u00c2\u00a3fc\\na period fo, that part of it mud be understood meta-\\nphorically, part literally which always produces con-\\nfufion, The works of Oflian afford an indance of the\\nfault we are now cenfuring. Trothal went forth\\nwith the ftream of his people, but they met a rock\\nfor Fingal flood unmoved broken, they rolled back;\\nu from his fide* Nor did they roll in fafety the\\nu fpear of the king purfued their flight. The meta-\\nphor at the beginning is beautiful the dream,\\nthe unmoved rock, the waves rolling back brok-\\nen, are exprefiions in the proper and confident lan-\\nguage of figure but in the end, when we are told.\\nthey did not roll in fafety, becaufe the fpear of the\\nking purfued their flight, the literal meaning is in-\\njudicioufly mixed with the metaphor they are at the\\nfame moment prefented to us as waves that roll and\\nas, men: that may be purfued and wounded by a Jpeai\\\\,", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "$4 metaphor:.\\nIn the fifth place, take care not to make two differ-\\nent metaphors meet on the fame obje\u00c2\u00a3t. This, which-\\nis called mixed metaphor, is one of the grbfleft abufes\\nof this figure. Shakefpeare s ^expreffion, for example,\\nto take arms againft a fea of troubles, makes a mo ft\\nunnatural medley, and entirely* confounds the imagin-\\nation. More correct writers than Shakefpeare, are\\nfometimes guilty of this error. Mr. Addifon fays,\\nu There is not a fingle view of human nature, which\\nu is not fufficienfc to extinguish the feeds of pride.\\nHere a view is made to extingui(h y and to extingwjlj-\\nfeeds.\\nIn examining, the propriety of metaphors it is a\\ngood rule to form a picture of them, and to confider\\nfcksw the parts agree, and what kind of figure the\\nwhole prefents, when delineated with a pencil.\\nMetaphors, in the fixth place, ihould not be crowd-\\ned together on the fame object. Though each of them\\nbe diftincl, yet, if they be heaped on one another,\\nthey produce confufionV The following paflage from i\\nHorace will exemplify this obfervation\\nMoturn ex- Metello confule civicum\\nBellique caufas, et vitia, ct modos,\\nJLudumque fortunae, gravefque\\nPrincipum amicitias, et arrna\\nNondum expiatis un a cruoribuSj\\nPericulofae plenum opus ale e,\\nTra a\u00c2\u00a7, et inccdis per ignes\\nSuppofitos cineri dolofo.\\nTliis paflage, though very poetical, is rendered harfh\\nsnd obfeure by three diftinft metaphors crowded to-\\ngether. Fir (I, iQ anna un3a cruoribus nondum expiatis il\\nnext, opus plenum peneulofie alea and then, ince*\\ndis per tgncs fuppofiios cineri dohje", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "ALLEGORY.\\nThe Iaft rule concerning metaphors is, they fhould\\njiot be too far purfued. For, when the refemblance,\\nwhich is the foundation of the figure, is long dwelt\\nupon, and carried into all its minute circumftances,\\nan allegory is produced inftead of a metaphor the\\nreader is wearied, and the difcourfe becomes obfcure.\\nThis is termed firaining a metaphor. Dr. Young,\\nwhofe imagination waamorediftinguifhed by ftrength,\\nthan delicacy, is often guilty of running down his met-\\naphors. Speaking of old age, he fays, it fhould\\nWalk thoughtful on the Glenf, foleirm fhore\\nOf that van 1 ocean, it muft fail fo foon\\nAnd put good works on board and wait the wind\\nThat fhortly blows us into worlds unknown.\\nThe two firft lines are uncommonly beautiful but*\\nwhen he continues the metaphor by putting good\\nu works on board? and waiting the wind, it is {train-\\ned, and finks in dignity.\\nHaving treated of metaphor, we (hall conclude this\\nchapter with a few words concerning allegory.\\nAn allegory is a continued metaphor; as it is the\\nreprefentation of one thing by another that refembles\\nit. Thus Prior makes Emma defcribe her conftancy\\nto Henry in the following allegorical manner\\nDid I but purpofe to embark with thee\\nOn the fmooth furface of a fummer s fea,\\nWhile gentle zephyrs play with profperous gales,\\nAnd fortune s favour fills the fwelling fails\\nBut would forfake the lHp,and make the fhore,\\nWhen the winds whittle, and the tempefts roar-?\\nThe fame rules that were given for metaphors, may\\n;fee applied to allegories on accomnt of the affinity h*~", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "n\\njg HYPERfcOCE.\\ntween them. The only material difference befide fhe\\none being fhort and the other prolonged is, that a met-\\naphor always explains it-felf by the words that are\\neonnefted with it in their proper and literal meaning;\\nas, when we fay, Achilles was a lion .an able\\ncc minifter is the -pillar of the ftate/ Lion and pillar\\nare here fufficiently interpreted by the mention of\\nAchilles and the minifter, which are joined to them\\nbut an allegory may be allowed to ftand lefs connect-\\ned with the literal meaning the interpretation not\\nbeing fo plainly pointed out, but left to our own re-\\nJle ion.\\nHYPERBOLE.\\n[YPERBOLE confifts in magnifying an oti-\\njecl: beyond its natural bounds. This figure occurs\\nvery frequently in all languages, even in common con-\\nverfation. As fwift as the wind as white as fnow\\nand our ufual forms of compliment are in general ex-\\ntravagant hyperboles. From habit, however, thefe ex-\\naggerated expre (lions are feldom considered, as hyper-\\nbolical.\\nHyperboles are of two kinds fuch as are employ-\\ned in defcription, or fuch as. are fuggefted by paflion.\\nThofe are far belt which are the effe\u00c2\u00a3l of paflion\\nfince it not only gives rife to the moft daring figures,\\nbut often renders them juft and natural. Hence the\\nfollowing paffage in Milton, though extremely hyper-\\nbolical, contains nothing but what is natural and prop-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "HYPERBOLE. $f7\\ncr. It exhibits the min df atan agitated by rage\\nand defpair.\\nMe mifcrable Which way fliall I fly\\nInfinite wrath, and infinite defpair\\nWhich way I fly is hell myfelf am hell\\nAnd in the loweft depth, a lower deep\\niStill threatning to devour me, opens wide,\\nTo which the hell I fuffer feems a heaven.\\nIn firnple description, hyperboles mtift be employed\\nwith more caution. When an earthquake or ftormis\\ndefcribed, or when our imagination is carried into the\\nmidft of a battle, we can bear flrong hyperboles with-\\nout difpleafure. But, when only a woman in grief is\\nprefented to our view, it is impofiible not to be dif-\\ngufted with fuch exaggeration, as the following, in\\none of our drarnatick poets\\nI found her en the floor\\nIn all the fiorm of grief, yet beautiful,\\nPouring forth tears at fuch a Iavifh rate,\\nThat were the world on fire, they might have drown d\\nThe wrath of heaven, and quench d the mighty ruin.\\nThis is mere bombaft. The perfon herfelf who la-\\nboured under the diftra ing agitations of grief, might\\nbe permitted to exprefs herfelf in ftrong hyperbole\\nbut the fpedator, who defcribes her, cannot be allow-\\ned equal liberty. The juft boundary of this figure\\ncannot be afcertained by any precife rule. Good fenfc\\nand an accurate tafte muft afcertain the limit, beyond\\nwhich, if it pafs, it becomes extravagant", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "9t PERSONIFICATION,\\nPERSONIFICATION AMD APOSTROPHE.\\nW E proceed now to thofe figures which li\u00c2\u00a3\\naltogether in the thought, the words being taken iu\\ntheir common and literal fenfe. We {hall begin with\\nperfonification, by which life and a\u00c2\u00a3tion are attributed\\nto inanimate obje\u00c2\u00a3ts. All poetry, even in its mod\\nhumble form, abounds in this figure. From profe it\\nis far from being excluded nay, even in common\\nconverfation, frequent approaches a^e made to it.\\nWhen we fay, the earth ihirjls for rain, or the fields\\nfmile with plenty when ambition is faid to be rejllefs\\nor a difeafe to be deceitful fuch expreflions (how the\\nfacility with which the mind can accommodate the\\nproperties of living creatures to things inanimate, of\\nabilraft conceptions.\\nThere are three different degrees of this figure\\nwhich it is requifite to diftinguiih, in order to deter-\\nmine the propriety pf its ufe. The firft is, when\\nfome of the properties of living creatures are afcribed\\nto inanimate objects the fecond, when thofe inani-\\nmate objects are defer ibed as a\u00c2\u00a3ting like fuch as\\nhave life and the third, when they are exhibited ei-\\nther as fpeaking to us, or as liftening to what we fay\\nto them.\\nThe firft and lowed degree of this figure, which\\nconfifts in afcribing to inanimate objects fome of the\\nqualities of living creatures, raifes the flyle fo little,\\nthat the humblefl difcourfe admits it without any\\nforce. Thus a raging ftcrm, a deceitful difeafe, a\\nf* cruel difafter, are familiar exprelfions. This in-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "PERSONIFICATION.\\n9i\\ndeed is fo obfcure a degree of perfonification, that it\\nmight perhaps be properly clafTed with fimple meta-\\nphors which almoft efcape our obfervation.\\nThe fecond degree of this figure is, when we rep-\\nresent inanimate objects acting like thofe that have\\nlife, Here we rife a ftep higher, and the perfonifica-\\ntion becomes fenfible. According to the nature of the\\nadtion which we afcribe to thole inanimate objects,\\nand to the particularity with which we defcribe it,\\nis the ftrength of the figure. When purfued to a con-\\nfiderable length, it belongs only to ftudied harangues y\\nwhen flightly touched, it may be admitted into lefs\\nelevated compofitions. Gicero, for example, fpeaking\\nof the cafes where killing a mar is lawful in felf-de-\\nfence, ufes the following expreflions AHquando no*-\\nu bis gladius ad occidendum hormnem ab Ipfus porrigitur\\nfegibuj. Here the laws are beautifully perfonified\\nas reaching forth their hand to give us a fword for\\nputting a man to death.\\nIn poetry, perfonifications of this kind are extreme-\\nly frequent, and are indeed the life and foul of it. In\\nthe ciefcriptions of a poet, who has a lively fancy\\nevery thing is animated. Homer, the father of poet-\\nry, is c^arkable for the ufe of this figure. War,\\n3, darts, rivers, every thing in fhort, is alive in his\\nwritings, The fame is true of Milton and Shakefpeare.\\nNo perfonification is more ftriking, or introduced on\\na more proper oecafion, than the following of Miltoir\\nupon Eve s eating the forbidden fruit\\nSo faying, her rafh hand in evil hour\\nForth reaching to the fruit, ihe pluckM, (he ate\\nEirtfr felt the wound and nature from her feat,\\nSighing thro all her works, gave figns of wo.,\\nT at all was loft.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "ICO PERSONIFICATION.\\nThe third and higheft degree of this figure is yet to\\nbe mentioned when inanimate objects are reprefent-\\ned, not only as feeling and adiing, but as fpeaking\\nto us or liftening, while we addrefs them. This is\\nthe boldeft of all rhetorical figures it is the Ftyle of\\nftrong paflion only 9 and therefore fhould never be\\nattempted, except when the mind is confiderably heat-\\ned and agitated. Milton affords a very beautiful ex-\\nample of this figure in that moving and tender addrefs\\n-which Eve makes toParadife immediately before ihe\\nis compelled to leave it.\\nO unexpected ftroke, worfe than of death\\nMufl I thus leave thee, Paradife Thus leave\\nThee, native foil thefe happy walks and fhadety\\nFit haunt of gods where I had hope to fpend\\nQuiet, though fad, the refpite of that day,\\nWhich muft be mortal to us both O flowers\\nThat never will in other climate grow,\\nMy early vifitation, and my laft\\nAt even, which I bred up with tender hand\\nFrom your firit opening buds, and gave you names\\nWho now fliall rear you to the fun, or rank\\nYour tribes, and water from the ambro al fount\\nThis is the real language of nature and of female\\npaflion.\\nIn the management of this fort of perfonification two\\nrules are to be obferved. Firft, never attempt it, un-\\nlefs prompted by ftrong paflion, and never continue it\\nwhen the paflion begins to fubfide. The fecond rule\\nis never perfonify an object which has not fome dig-\\nnity in itfelf, and which is incapable of making a prop-\\ner figure in the elevation to which we raife it. To\\naddrefs the body of a deceafed friend is natural but\\nto addrefs the clothes which he wore introduces low", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "APOSTROPHE. 101\\nand degrading ideas. So likewife, addreffing the fev-\\neral parts of the body, as if they were animated, is not\\nagreeable to the dignity of paflion. For this reafon\\nthe following paffage in Pope s Eloifa to Abelard is\\nliable to cenfure.\\nDear fatal name reft ever unreveaPd,;\\nNor pafs thefe lips, in holy filence feal d.\\nHide it, my heart, within that clofe difguife a\\nWhere, mix d with God s, his lov d idea lies\\nO, write it not, my hand his name appears\\nAlready written blot it, out, my tears.\\nHere the name of Abelard is firfl: perfonified i\\nwhich, as the name of a perfon often (lands for the\\nperfon himfelf, is expofed to no obje ion. Next, Eloifa\\nperfonifies her own heart and, as the heart is a dig-\\nnified part of die human frame, and rs often put for\\nthe mind, this alfo may/ pafs without cenfure. But,\\nwhen fhe addrefies her hand, and tells it not to write\\nhis name, this is forced and unnatural. Yet the fig*\\nttre becomes ftill worfe, when Ihe exhorts her tears to-\\nblot out what her hand had written. The two lad\\nlines are indeed altogether unfuitable to the tendernefs\\nwhich breathes through^ the reft of that inimitable\\npoem;\\nApostrophe is an addrefs to a real perfon but\\none who is- either abfent or dead, as if he were pre-\\nfent, and liftening to us\u00c2\u00bb This figure is in boldnefs\\na degree lower than personification fince it requires\\nlefs effort of imagination to fuppofe perfons prefent\\nwho are dead or abfent, than to animate inienGble\\nbeings and direcl: our difcourfe to them. The poems\\nc\u00c2\u00a3 Offian abound in beautiful inftanges of this figure", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "102 COMPARISON.\\nWeep on the rocks of roaring winds, O Maid of\\nIniftore. Bend thy fair head over the waves, thou\\nfairer than the ghoft of the hills, when it moves in a\\nu fun- beam at noon over the filence of Morven. He is\\nV fallen Thy youth is low pale beneath the fword\\nof Cuchulliu.\\nCOMPARISON, ANTITHESIS, INTERROGA-\\nTION, EXCLAMATION, AND OTHER FIG-\\nURES OF SPEECH.\\nA COMPARISON or Gmile is, when the re-\\nsemblance between two obje\u00c2\u00a3ls is expreffed in form,\\nand ufually purfued more fully than the nature of a\\nmetaphor admits. As when we fay, The aflions of\\nc princes are like thofe great rivers, the courfc of\\nwhich every one beholds, but their fprings have been\\nfeen by few. This fhort inftance will mow that a\\nhappy comparifon is a fort of fparkling ornament,\\nwhich adds luftre and beauty to difcourfe.\\nAll comparifons may be reduced under two heads\\nexplaining and emhellijhing comparifons. For, when a\\nwriter compares an object with any other thing, it al-\\nways is, or ought to be, with a view to make us un-\\nderftand that obje\u00c2\u00a3l more clearly, or to render it more\\nple^fing. Even abftraft reafoning admits explaining\\ncomparifons. For inftance, the diftindtion between\\nthe powers of fenfe and imagination is in Mr. Harris s\\nHermes illuftrated by a Smile As wax, fays he,\\nwould not be adequate to the purpofe of fignature,\\n..if it had not the power to retain 3s well as to-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "COMPARISON.\\n[Qg\\nceive the impreffion the fame holds of the fouL\\nc with refpe\u00c2\u00a3t to fenfe and imagination. Senfe is its\\nc receptive power, and imagination its retentive. Had\\nc it fenfe without imagination, it would not be as wax,\\nu but as water where, though all imprefiions be in-\\nftantly made, yet as foon as they are made, they are\\nu loft. In comparifons of this kind, peripicuity and\\nufefulnefs are chiefly to be ftudied.\\nBut embellilhing comparifons are thofe which\\nmod frequently occur. Refemblance, it has been\\nobferved, is the foundation of this figure. Yet re-\\nfemblance muft not be taken in too firi\u00c2\u00a3t a fenfe for\\nadtual fimilitude. Two objects may raife a train of\\nconcordant ideas in the mind, though they refemblc\\neach other, ftri ly fpeaking, in nothing. For exam-\\nple, to defcribethe nature of foft and melancholy mu-\\nfick, Offianfays, M The mufick of Carryl was, like the\\nM memory of joys that are paft, pleafant and mourn-\\nu ful to the foul. This is happy and delicate yet\\nno kind of mufick bears any refemblance to the mem-\\nory of paft joys.\\nWe fhall now confider when comparifons may be in-\\ntroduced with propriety. Since they are the language\\nof imagination, rather than of paflion, an author can\\nhardly commit a greater fault, than in the midft of\\npaflfion to introduce a fimile. Our writers of trage-\\ndies often err in this refpeft. Thus Addifon in his\\nCato makes Portius, juft after Lucia had bid him fare-\\nwell forever, exprefs himfelf in a ftudied comparifon.\\nThus o er the dying lamp the unfteady flame\\nHangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits,\\nAnd falls again, ^s loth to quit its hold.\\nThou muft not go my foul ftill hovers o er thee,\\n^.nd can t get loofe.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "1\u00c2\u00a94 COMPARISON,\\nAs companion is not the ftyle of ftrong paflion, To-\\nwhen defigned for embeliiihment, it is not the lan-\\nguage of a mind totally unmoved; Being a figure of\\ndignity, it always requires fome elevation in thefub-\\n,je\u00c2\u00a3t, to make it proper. It fuppofes the imagination\\nto be enlivened* though the heart is not agitated by\\npaftion. The language of fimile lies in the middle\\nregion between the highly pathetick and the very hum-\\nble ftyle. It is however a fparkling ornament and\\nmuft confequently dazzle and fatigue, if it recur too\\noften. Similes, even in poetry, (hould be employed\\nwith moderation but in profe much more fo oth-\\nerwife the ftyle will become difguftingly lufcious, and-\\nthe ornament lofe its beauty and effect.\\nWe {hall now confider the nature of thofe objects\\njVom which comparifons fhould be drawn.\\nIn the firft place, they muft not be drawn fromthings*\\nwhich have too near and obvious a refemblance of\\nthe obje\u00c2\u00a3t with which they are compared. The pleas-\\nure we receive from the act of comparing, arifes-\\nfrom the difcovery of liknefles among things of dif-\\nferent fpecies, where we (hould not at firft fight ex-\\npeel: a refemblance.\\nBut, in the fecond place, as comparifons ought not\\nto be founded on liknefles too obvious, much lefs\\nought they to be founded *n thofe which are too faint\\nand diftant. Thefe, infteadof aflifting, ftrain the fan-\\ncy to comprehend them, and throw no light upon the\\nfubject.\\nIn the third place, the object from which a compare\\nifon is drawn, ought never to be an unknown object,\\nnor one of which few people can have a clear idea.\\nTherefore finule$, founded on philofophical difcov^", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "ANTITHESIS. I $5\\neries, oron anything, with which pcrfons of a partic-\\nular trade only, or a particular profeffion, are acquaint-\\ned, produce not their proper effect. They fhould be\\ndrawn from thofe illuftrious and noted objects, which\\nmod readers have either feen, or can flrongly conceive.\\nIn the fourth place, in cornpofitions of a ferious or\\nelevated kind, fimiles (hould never be drawn from low\\nor mean objects. Thefe degrade and vilify whereas\\nfimiles are generally intended to embellifh and dignify.\\nTherefore, except in burlefque writings, or where an\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3t is meant to be degraded, mean ideas (hould\\nnever be prefented.\\nANTITHESIS is founded on the contraft or oppo-\\nfition of two objects. By contraft, objects oppofed\\nto each other, appear in a ftronger light. Beauty, for\\ninftance never appears fo charming as when contrafl-\\ned with uglinefs. Antithefis therefore may, on many\\noccafions, be ufed advantageoufly to ftrengthen the\\nrmpreffion which we propofe that any obje\u00c2\u00a3t {hould\\nmake. Thus Cicero, in his oration for Milo, reprefent-\\ning the improbability of Milo s defigning to take away\\nthe life of Clodias, when every thing was unfavourable\\nto fuch defign, after he had omitted many opportuni-\\nties of effecting fuch a purpofe, heightens our convic-\\ntion of this improbability by a fkilful ufe of this fig-\\nure, j^uem igitur cum omnium gratia interjicere nclu-\\nif hunc voluii cum alia nor urn querela ^uem jure,\\nu quern loco, quern tempore, quern impune, mn eft aufus\\n6 hunc injuria iniquo loco, aliens tempore, periculo capitis\\nncn dubitavit occidere Here the antithefis is render-\\ned complete by the words and members of the fen-\\ntence, expreffing the contrafted objects, being fimilar-\\nly eonftriuSted and made toccrrefpond with eachother*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "106 INTERROGATIONS.\\nWe mud however acknowledge that frequent ufer\\nof antithefis, efpecialiy where the oppofition in the\\nwords is nice and quaint, is apt to make ftyle implead-\\ning. A maxim or moral faying very properly receives\\nthis form becaufe it is fuppofed to be the effect of\\nmeditation, and is defigned to be engraven on the\\nmemory, which recalls it more eafily by the aid of\\ncontracted expreffions. But where feveral fuch fen*\\ntences fucceed each other where this is an author s\\nfavourite and prevailing mode of exprefuon his ftyle\\nis expofed to cenfure.\\nINTERROGATIONS and Exclamations \u00c2\u00abe paf-\\nfionate figures* The literal ufe of interrogation is to\\nafk a queftion but, when men are prompted by paf-\\nfion, whatever they would affirm, or deny with great\\nearneftnefs, they naturally put in the form of a quef-\\ntion expreffing thereby the firmeft confidence of the\\ntruth of their own opinion y and appealing to their\\nhearers for the impoffibility of the contrary. Thus\\nin fcripture God is not a man, that he lhould lie\\nu nor the Son of Man, that he mould repent. Hath\\nhe faid it And fhall he not do it Hath he fpoken\\nu it And fhall he not make it good p\\nInterrogations may be employed in the profecution\\nof clofe and earned reafoning but exclamations be-\\nlong only to ftronger emotions of the mind to fur-\\nprize, anger, joy, grief, and the like. Thefe, being\\nnatural figns of a moved and agitated mind, always,\\nwhen properly employed; make us fympathize with,\\nthofe who ufe them, and enter into their feelings.\\nNothing, however, has a worfe efFefifc, than frequent\\n?md unfeafonable ufe of exclamations. Young, inex-\\nperienced writers fuppofe, that by pouring them forth", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "VISION AND CLIMAX. 10J\\nplenteoufly they render their compofitions warm and\\nanimated. But the contrary follows they render\\nthem frigid to excefs. When an author is always\\n^calling upon us to enter into tranfports, which he has\\nfaid nothing to infpire, he excites our difguft and in-\\ndignation.\\nAnother figure of fpeech, fit only for animated\\ncomposition, is called Vision when, inftead of relat-\\ning fomething that is paft, we ufe the prefent tenfe,\\nand defcribe it as if paffing before our eyes. Thus\\nXicero in his fourth oration againft Cataline Vide*\\nor enim mihi banc urbem videre 9 lucem or bis terrarum\\n5 at que arcem omnium gentium i fubito uno incendia conci-\\nu dentum cer?io animo Jepulta in p atria mtferos at que in*\\n5 1 fepultos acervos civium verfatur mihi ante oculos afpec*\\nAi tus Cetkegi) et furor in vejlra cade bacchant ir. This\\nfigure has great force when it is well executed, and\\nwhen it .flows from genuine enthufiafm. Otherwife,\\nit fhares the fame fate with all feeble attempts toward\\npaffionate figures that of throwing ridicule upon the\\nauthor, and leaving the reader more cool and uninter-\\nested than he was before.\\nThe la ft figure which we fhall mention, and which is\\nof frequent ufe among all publick fpeakers, is Climax.\\nIt confifts in an artful exaggeration of all the circum-\\nitances of fome object or a\u00c2\u00a3Hon which we wifh to\\nplace in a flrong light. It operates by a gradual rife\\nof one circumftance above another, till our idea is\\nraifed to the higheft pitch. We fhall give an inftanqc\\nof this figure from a printed pleading of a celebrated\\nlawyer in a charge to the jury in the cafe of a wo-\\nman, who was accufed of murdering her own child.\\nf Gentlemen, if one man had any how flain another s", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "Io8 GENERAL CHARACTERS OF STYLE.\\nw if an adverfary had killed his cppofer or a womaa\\nu occafioned the death of her enemy even thefe crim-\\ninals would have been capitally punifhed by the\\nCornelian law. But, if this guiltlefs infant, who\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci could make no enemy, had been murdered by its\\nu own nurfe, what punifhments would not the mother\\ncc have demanded With what cries and exclamations\\nwould (he have (tunned your ears What (hall we\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci fay then, when a woman, guilty of homicide a\\nmother, of the murder of her innocent child, hath\\nc comprifed all thofe mifdeeds in one fingle crime\\na crime, in its own nature deteftable in a woman\\na prodigious 5 in a mother incredible 5 and perpetrated\\nc againft one whofe age called for compaffion whofe\\nc near relation claimed affe\u00c2\u00a3lion and whofe inno-\\nCl cence deferved the highefl: favour Such regular\\nclimaxes, however, though they have great beauty,\\nyet at the fame time have the appearance of art and\\nftudy and, therefore, though they may be admitted\\ninto formal harangues, yet they are not the language\\nof paffion which feldom proceeds by fteps fo regular.\\nGENERAL CHARACTERS OF STYLE. DIF-\\nFUSE, CONCISE\u00e2\u0080\u0094 FEEBLE, NERVOUS-\\nDRY, PLAIN, NEAT, ELEGANT, FLOWERY.\\n1 HAT different fubjecis ought to be treated\\nin different kinds of ftyle, is a pofition fo obvious, that\\nit requires no illuftration. Every one knows that\\ntreatifes of philofophy fhould not be compofed in the\\nfame ftyle with orations. It is equally apparent, that", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "DIFFUSE AND CONCISE. 1 09\\ndifferent parts of the fame compofition require a varia-\\ntion in the ftyle. Yet amid this variety, we flill ex-\\npert to find in the compofitions of any one man fome\\ndegree of uniformity in manner we expe\u00c2\u00a3l to find\\nfome prevailing character of ftyle imprefled on all his\\nwritings, which will mark his particular genius and\\nturn of mind. The orations in Livy differ confidera-\\nbly in ftyle, as they ought to do, from the reft of his\\nhiftory. The fame may be obferved in thofe of Taci-\\ntus. Yet in the orations of both thefe hiftorians, the\\ndiftinguifhed manner of each may be clearly traced\\nthe fplendid fullnefs of the one, and the fententious\\nbrevity of the other. Wherever this is real genius,\\nit prompts to one kind of ftyle, rather than to another.\\nWhere this is wanting where there is no marked\\nnor peculiar character in the compofitions of an au-\\nthor we are apt to conclude, and not without caufe,\\nthat he is a vulgar and trivial author, who writes from\\nimitation, and not from the impulfe of genius.\\nOne of the firft and mod obvious diftinctions in\\nftyle arifes from an author s expanding his thoughts\\nmore or lefs. This diftin ion forms what are termed\\nthe diffufe or concife ftyles. A concife writer com-\\nprefies his ideas into the feweft words he employs\\nnone but the mod expreflive he lops off all thofe\\nwhich are not a material addition to the fenfe. What-\\never ornament he admits, is adopted for the fake of\\nforce, rather than of grace. The fame thought is\\nnever repeated. The utmoft precifion is ftudied in\\nhis fentences and they are generally defigned to Tug-\\nged more to the reader s imagination than they ex-\\nprefs.\\nK", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "110 DIFFUSE AND CONCISE.\\nA difrufe writer unfolds his idea fully. He places\\nit in a variety of lights, and gives the reader every pof-\\nfible affiftanee for underftanding it completely, He is\\nnot very anxious to exprefs it at fir ft in its full ftrength\\nbecaufe he intends repeating the impreflion and,\\nwhat he wants in ftrength, he endeavours, to fupply\\nby copioufnefs. His periods naturally flow into fome\\nlength, and, having room for ornament .of every kind*\\nhe rives it free admittance.\\nEach of thefe ftyles has its peculiar advantages.\\nand each becomes faulty, when carried to the extreme,\\nOf concifenefs, carried as far as propriety will allow,\\nperhaps in fome cafes farther, Tacitus the hiftorian and\\nMontefquieu in l Efprit de Loix are remarkable ex-\\namples. Of a beautiful and. magnificent diffufenefs,\\nCicero is undoubtedly the nobleft inftance whi :h can\\nbe given. Addifcn alfoaniSir William Temple may\\nbe ranked in the fame clafs\\nIn determining when to adopt the concife, and when\\n-the difFufe manner, we muft be guided by the nature of\\nthe .competition. Difcourfes that are to be fpoken, re-\\nquire a more difrtiie flyle than books which are to be\\nread. In written compofi lions a proper degree of con-\\ncifenefs has great advantages. It is more lively keeps\\nup attention makes a ftrangsr impreiTion on the\\nmind j and gratifies the reader by fuppiying more ex-\\nercife to his thoughts. Defcription, when we wiih\\nto have it vivid and animated, ihoiild beconcife. Any\\nredundant words or circumft.ances encumber the fancy\\nand render the object we prefent to it, confufed and\\nindiilincl. The ftrength and vivacity of defcription,\\nwhether in profe or poetry, depend much more jupon\\na happy choice of one or two important circumftances,", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "NERVOUS AND FEEBLE, III\\n?\u00c2\u00a3?an upon the multiplication of them. When we do-\\nfire to ftrike the fancy, or to move the heart, we fliould\\nbe cbncife when to inform the underilanding, which\\nis more deliberate in its motions, and wants the afiirl-\\nance cf a guide; it is better to be full. Hiiiorical nar-*\\nration t ay be beautiful either in a conciie or diffufe\\nmanner, according To the author s genius. Livy and\\nHerodotus are diffufe v Thueydides and Sallufl are\\ncanciie yet they are all agreeable.\\nThe nervous and the feeble are generally catffider-\\nzd as characters of ftyle of the fame import with the\\nconciie and the eiihile. Indeed they frequently coin-\\ncide yet this does not always hold*, finoe there are in-\\nftances of writers, who, in the midil of a full and amp] t\\nfryle^have maint. lined a confiderahie degree cf ftvength*\\nLivy is an iuftanceof the truth of this obferv an on,\\nihe foundation of w nervous or weak llyle is hud in\\nan author s manner of thinking. If he conceive an\\nobject ftrongly, he will exprefs it with energy but,\\nif he have an indiltinei view of his fubjett, it will\\nclear* y appear in his llyle. Unmeaning words and\\nlooie epithets will efeape him his expreflions will be\\nvague and general his arrangements indiftin\u00c2\u00a3t and\\ncur conception of his meaning will be faint and con-\\nfufed. But a nervous writer, be his ftyle concife or\\nextended, gives us always a iirong idea of his meaning.\\nHis mind being full of his fubje\u00c2\u00a3t, his words are al-\\nways expreffive every phrafe and every figure renders\\nthepiclure which he would fet before us, more link-\\ning and complete.\\nIt muft, however, be obferved, that too great ftudy\\nof flrength is apt to betray writers into a harfh manner.\\nHarlhnefs proceeds from uncommon words, from forc-\\ned inversions in the conflruclicn of a fentence, and", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "I I 2 NERVOUS, FEEBLE, DRY AND PLAIN\\nfrom neglect of fmoothnefs and cafe. This is reckon-\\neel the fault of fomc of our earlieft clafficks fuch as\\nSir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Bacon, Hooker, Her-\\nriugtoixj Cudworth, and other writers of confiderable\\nreputation in the days of Queen Elizabeth, James I.\\n^nd Charles I. Thefe writers had nerves and ftrengtb\\nin a high degree and are to this day difiinguifhed by\\nthis quality in ftyle. But the language in their hands\\nwas very different from what it is now, and was in-\\nentirely formed upon the idiom and confiruclion\\nof the Latin in the arrangement of fentences. The\\nprefent form of our language has in fome degree fac-\\nrifked the ftudy of ftrcngth to that of eafe and per-\\nfpicuity. Our arrangement is lefs forcible, but more\\nplain and natural and this is now confidered as the\\ngenius of our tongue.\\nHitherto ftyle has been confidered under thofe char-\\nacters which regard its exprefiivenefs of an author s\\nmeaning. We fhall now confider it with refpecT: to\\nthe degree of ornament employed to embellifh it.\\nHere the ftyle of different authors feems to rife in the\\nfollowing gradation a dry, a plain, a neat, an ele-\\ngant, a flowery manner.\\nA dry manner excludes every kind of .ornament.\\nContent with being underftood, it aims not to pleafe\\neither the fancy or the ear. This is tolerable only in\\npure dida\u00c2\u00a3tick writing and even there, to make us\\nbear it, great folidity of matter and entire perfpicuity\\nof language are required.\\nA plain ftyle rifes one degree above a dry one. A\\nwriter of this character employs very little ornament\\nof any kind, and refts almoft entirely upon his\\nfenfe. But though he does not engage us by the arts", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "HEAT AND ELEGANT. II3\\ndf compofition, he avoids difgufting us like a dry and\\na harfh writer. Befide perfpicuity, he obferves pro-\\npriety, purity, and precifion in his language, which\\nform no inconfiderable degree of beauty. Livelinefs\\nand force are alfo compatible with a plain flyle and\\ntherefore fuch an author, if his fentiments be good,\\nmay be fufficiently agreeable. The difference between\\na dry and a plain writer is this the former is incapa-\\nble of ornament the latter goes not in purfuit of it,\\nGf rhofe who have employed the plain flyle, Dean\\nSwift is an eminent example.\\nA neat ftyle is next in order and here we are ad-\\nvanced into the region of ornament but not of the\\nmoft fparkling kind. A writer of this charadler fliows\\nby his attention to the choice of words, and to their\\ngraceful collocation, that he does not defpife the beau-\\nty of language. His fentences are always free from\\nthe incumbrance of Superfluous words of a moderate\\nlength inclining rather to brevity, than a fwelling\\nftruclure and clofing with propriety. There is varie-\\nty in his cadence but no appearance of itudied har-\\nmony. His figures, if he ufe any, are fliort and ac-\\ncurate, rather than bold and glowing. Such a flyle\\nmay be attained by a writer, whofe powers of fancy or\\ngenius are not great, by induftry and attention. This\\nfort of flyle is not unfuitable to any fubjedl whatever.\\nA familiar epiille, or a law paper on the drieft fubje\u00c2\u00a3t,\\nmay be written with neatnefs 9 and a fermon, or a\\nphilofophical treatife in a neat ftyle, is read with fatif-\\nfadion.\\nAn elegant flyle implies a higher degree of orna*\\nment than a neat one poffeffing all the virtues of or*\\nnament without any of its excefles or defe s. Com-\\nplete elegance implies great perfpicuity and propriety y\\nK 3", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "I 14 STYLE-*- -SlMPLClTY.\\npurity in the choice of words and care and {kill In\\ntheir arrangement. It implies farther the beauties of\\nimagination fpread over ftyle as far as the fubjeft per-\\nmits 5 and all the illuftration which figurative language\\nadds, when properly employed. An elegant writer in\\nfhort, is one who delights the fancy and the ear, while\\nhe informs the underftanding who clothes his ideas\\nin all the beauty of exprefixm, but does not oevrload\\nthem with any of its mifplaced finery.\\nA florid ftyle implies excefs of ornament In a\\nyoung compofer it is not only pardonable, but often a?\\npromifing fymptom. But, although it may be allowed\\nto youth in their fir ft efiays, it mult not receive the\\nfame indulgence from writers of more experience. Irf\\nthem judgment fhould chafien imagination^ and reject\\nevery ornament which is unfuitable or redundant.\\nThat tinfel fplendour of language which fome writers\\nperpetually affect, is truly contemptible. With fuch/\\nit is a luxuriance of words, not of fancy. They for-\\nget that unlefs founded on good fenfe and folid thought,\\nthe nioft florid ftyle is but a childifh impofition on the\\npublick.\\nSTYLE. SIMPLE, AFFECTED, VEHEMENT.\\nDIRECTIONS FOR FORMING A PROPER\\nSTYLE.\\nSIMPLICITY, applied to writing, is a term\\nvery commonly ufed but, like many other critical\\nterms, often ufed without precifion. The different\\nmeanings of the word fimplicity are the chief caufe\\npf this inaccuracy. It is therefore necefTary to, fhcvr,", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "simplicity; nj\\nin what fenfe fimplicity is a proper attribute of ftyle,-\\nThere are four different acceptations, in which this\\nterm is taken.\\nThe firit is fimplicity of ccmpofition, as oppofed to-\\ntoo great a variety of parts. This is the fimplicity of\\nplan in tragedy, as diitinguifhed from double plots-\\nand crowded incidents the fimplicity of the Iliad in\\noppcfition to the digreilions of Lucan the fimplici-\\nty of Grecian architecture in oppofition to the irregu-\\nlar variety of the Gothick* Simplicity in this fenfe is\\nthe fame with unity.\\nThe fecond fenfe is fimpli ciry of thought in oppo-\\nfition to refinement. Simple thoughts are thofe which\\nflow naturally which are fuggefted by the fuhjecl or\\noccafion and which, when once fuggefted, are eafily\\nunderftood by all. Refinement in writing means a\\nlefs obvious and natural train of thought, which, when\\ncarried too fa*, approaches to intricacy, and difpleafes-\\nus by the appearance of being far fought. Thus Par-\\nnell is a poet of much greater Gmplieity in his turn of\\nthought than Cowley. In thefs two fenfcs fimplicity\\nhas no relation to ftyfe\\nThe third fenfe of fimplicity regards ftyle* and is\\noppofed to too much ornament, or pomp of language.\\nThus we fay Mr. Locke is a fimple, Mr. Herveya\\nflorid writer. A fimpie ftyle, in this fenfe, coincides\\nwith a plain or neat ftyle.\\nThe fourth fenfe of fimplicity alfo refpects ftyle 5\\nbut it regards not fo much the degree of ornament em-\\nployed, as the eafy and natural manner, in which our\\n.language exprefifes our thoughts. In this fenfe fim-\\nplicity is compatible with the higheft ornament.\\nHorner, for example, pofleflss this fimplicity in the", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "Il6 SIMPLICITY\u00e2\u0080\u0094 AFFECTATION.\\ngreateft perfe ion; and yet no writer has more orna-\\nment and keauty. This fimplicity is oppofed not to\\nornament, but to affectation of ornament*, and is a\\nfuperior excellence in composition.\\nA fimple writer has no marks of art in his expref-\\nfion it appears the very language of nature. We fee\\nnot the writer and his labour, but the man in his own\\nnatural character. He may be rich in expreffion he\\nmay be full of figures and of fancy; but thefe flow\\nfrom him without effort and he feems to write in this\\nmanner, not becaufe he had ftudied it, but becaufe it\\nis the mode of expreffion moft natural to him. With\\nthis chara er of ftyle a certain degree of negligence\\nis not inconfiftent for too accurate an attention to\\nwords is foreign to it. Simplicity of ftytej like fim-\\nplicity of manners, fhows a man s fentiments and turn\\nof mind without difguife. A more ftudied and arti-\\nficial mode of writing, however beautiful, has always\\nthis difadvantage, that it exhibits an author in form,\\nlike a man at court, where fplendour of drefs and the\\nceremonial of behaviour conceal thofe peculiarities\\nwhich diftinguifh one man from another. But read-\\ning an author of fimplicity is like converting with a\\nperfon of rank at home and with eafe, where we fee\\nhis natural manners and his real character*\\nWith regard to fimplicity in general, we may ob-\\nferve, that the ancient anginal writers are always mod\\neminent for it. This proceeds from a very obvious\\ncaufe; they wrote from the dictates of genius, and\\nwere not formed upon the labours and writings of\\nothers.\\nOf affectation, which is oppofed to fimplicity of ftyle,\\nwe have a remarkable example in Lord Shaftefbury*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "AFFECTATION. I tf\\nThough an author of confiderable merit, he exprefles\\nnothing with fimplicity. He feems to have thought\\nit vulgar and beneath the dignity of a man of quality\\nto fpeak like other men. Hence he is ever in buf-\\nkins full of circumlocutions and artificial elegance.\\nIn every fentence we fee marks of labour and art\\nnothing of that eafe which exprefles a fentiment com-\\ning natural and warm from the heart. He abounds\\nwith figures and ornament of every kind is fome-\\ntimes happy in them but his fondnefs for them is too\\nvifible and, having once fcized fome metaphor or al-\\nlufion, that pleafed him, he knows not how to part\\nwith it. He pofiefled delicacy and refinement of tafte\\nin a degree that may be called exceffive and fickly j\\nbut he had little warmth of paffion and the coldnefs of\\nhis chara\u00c2\u00a3ler fuggefted that artificial and (lately man-\\nner which appears in his writings. No author is more\\ndangerous to the tribe of imitators than Shaftesbury\\nwho amid feveral very confiderable bierrrifhes, has\\nmany dazzling and impofing beauties.\\nIt is very poffible, however, for an author to write\\nwith fimplicity, and yet without beauty. He maybe\\nfree from affectation, and not have merit. Beautiful\\nfimplicity fuppofes an author to pofiefs real genius\\nand to write with folidity, purity, and brilliancy of im-\\nagination. In this eafe, the fimplicity of his manner\\nis the crowning ornament it heightens every other\\nbeauty it is the drefs of nature, without which all\\nbeauties are imperfe\u00c2\u00a3t. But, if mere abferice of affec-\\ntation were fufRcient to conftitute beauty of ftyle*\\nweak and dull writers might often lay claim to it.\\nA diitin\u00c2\u00a3tion therefore muft be made between that", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "IIS DIRECTIONS FOR FORMIMG A PROPER STYLE,\\nfirnplicity which accompanies true genius and is en-\\ntirely compatible with every proper ornament of flyle\\nand that which is the effect of careleffneis.\\nAnother character of ftyle, different from thofe al-\\nready mentioned is vehemence. This always implies\\nftrength; and is not in any refpect incompatible with\\nfimplicicy. It is diftinguiihed by a peculiar ardour it\\nis the language of a man whofe imagination and paf-\\nfioris are glowing and impetuous who, neglecting in-\\nferior graces, pours himfelf forth with the rapidity and\\nfulnefs of a torrent, This belongs to the higher\\nkinds of oratory and is rather expected from a rm.\\nwho is (peaking, than from one who is writing in h\\\\i\\nclofet. Demofthenes is the moil full and perfect ex*\\nample of this kind of ftyle.\\nHaving explained the difrefeiit characters of ft;\\nwe ihall conclude our obfef with a few dire\\ntions for attaining a good ftyle in general\\nThe firft direction is, fludy clear ideas of the fub-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3l on which yoii are to write or fpeak. What we\\nconceive clearly and feel ftrongly, we naturally exprefs\\nwith clearnefs and ftrength. We fhould therefore\\nthink clofely on the fubjeft, till we: have attained a\\nfull and diltincl view of the matter which we are to\\nclothe in words till we become* warm and inferefted\\nin it then, and then only, ihall we find expreffioa\\nbegin to flow.\\nSecondly, to the acquisition of a good ftyle, frequen-\\ncy of compofing is indifpenfably neceffary. But it is\\nnot every kind of competing that will improve ftyle. r\\nBy a carelefs and hafty habit of writing, a bad ftyle will\\nbe acquired more trouble will afterward be necefTa--\\nry to unlearn faults, than to become acquainted with-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "DIRECTIONS SOU FORMING A PROPER STYLE. I 19\\n.the rudiments of compofitlon. In the beginning there-\\nfore we ought to write flowiy and with much care. Fa-\\ncility and fpeed are the fruit of practice. We mull be\\ncautious, however, not to retard the courfe of. thought,\\nror cool the ardour of imagination, by paufing too long\\non every word. On certain oqcafions a glow of com-\\npofition mud be kept up, if we hope to exprefs our-\\nfelves happily, though at the expenfe cf fome inac-\\ncuracies. A mors fevers examination mud be the\\nwork of correction. What we ha T e written fhould\\nbe laid by fome time, till the ardour of competition be\\npad; till partiality for cur expreffions be weakened,\\nand the exprefficms themfelves be forgotten and then,\\nreviewing our work with a cool and critical eye as if\\nit were- the performance of another, we (ka.ll difcover\\njiiany imperfe\u00c2\u00a3lions which at fird efcaped us.\\nThirdly, acquaintance with the ftyje of the bed au-\\nthors is peculiarly requifite. Hence a juft tade will\\nbe formed,, and a copious fund of words (applied on\\n.every fubjecX No exercife perhaps will be found more\\naifeful for acquiring a proper ft: vie, than tranflating\\nfome paflage from an eminent author into cur own\\nwords. Thus to take, for indauce, a page of one of\\nAddifon s Spectators, and read it attentively two or\\n.three times, till we are in full pcfTeffion of the thoughts\\nit contains then to lay afide the book to endeavour\\n,to write out the paffage from memory as well as we\\ncan ancl then to compare what we have written\\nwith the dyie of the author. Such an exercife will\\n.(hew us our defects will teach us to correct, them\\nand, from the variety of expreffion which it will ex-\\nhibit, will conduct us to that which is mod beau-\\ntiful.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "120 DIRECTIONS FOR FORMING A PROPER STYLE.\\nFourthly, caution rnuft be ufed againft ferviie imU\\ntation of any author whatever. Defire of imitating\\nhampers genius, and generally produces ftiffhefs of\\nexpreffion. They who follow an author clofely, com-\\nmonly copy his faults as well as his beauties. No one\\nwill ever become a good writer or fpeaker, who has\\nnot fome confidence in his own genius. We ought\\ncarefully to avoid ufing any author s peculiar phrafes,\\nand of transcribing paflages from him. Such a habit\\nwill be fatal to all genuine compofition. It is much\\nbetter to have Something of our own, though of mod-\\nerate beauty, than to mine in borrowed ornaments,\\nwhich will at laft betray the poverty of our genius.\\nFifthly, always adapt your ftyle to the fubje\u00c2\u00a3t, and\\nlikewife to the capacity of your hearers, if you are to\\nfpeak in publick. To attempt a poetical ftyle, when it\\nfhould be our bufmefs only to reafon, is in the highefl\\ndegree awkward and abfurd. To fpeak with elaborate\\npomp of words before thofe who cannot comprehend\\nthem, is equally ridiculous. When we are to write\\nor fpeak, we ihould previously fix in our minds a clear\\nidea of the end aimed at keep this fteadily in view,\\nand adapt our ftyle to it.\\nLaflly, let not attention to ftyle engrofs us fo much\\nas to prevent a higher degree of attention to the\\nthoughts. This rule is more neceffary, (ince the pref-\\nent tafte of the age is directed more to ftyle than to\\nthought. It is much more eafy to drefs up trifling\\nand common thoughts with fome beauty of expreflion,\\nthan to afford a fund of vigorous, ingenious, and ufe-\\nful fentiments. The latter requires genius the for-\\nmer may be attained by induftry. Hence the crowd\\nof writers who are rich in ftyle, but poor in fentiment.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "CRITICAL EXAMINATION, C, 121\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0Cuflom obliges tis to be attentive to the ornaments of\\nilyle, if we wiih our labours to be read and admired.\\nBut he is a contemptible writer, whojooks not beyond\\nthe drefs of language who lays not the chief ftrefs\\nupon his matter, and employs not fuch ornaments of\\nftyle to recommend it, as are manly, not foppifh.\\nCRITICAL EXAMINATION OF Me. ADDISON s\\nSTYLE IN No. 411 OF THE SPECTATOR.\\nXxAVING fully infilled on the fubjeft of lan-\\nguage, we flrall now commence a critical analyfis of\\nthe llyle of fome good author. This will fuggeil ob-\\nfervations, which we have not hitherto had occafion\\nto make, and will (how in a practical light the life of\\nthofe which have been made*\\nMr. Addifon, though one of the moil beautiful wri-\\nters in our language, is not the mod correal a cir-\\ncumflance which makes his composition a proper fub-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3l of criticifm. We proceed therefore to examine\\nNo. 41 1, the firft of his celebrated e flays on the pleaf-\\ntires of the imagination, in the fixth volume of the\\nSpe\u00c2\u00a3lator. It begins thus\\nOur fight is the moft perfect and moft delightful of all\\nmir fenfes.\\nThis fentence is clear, precife and fimple. The au-\\nthor in a few plain words lays down the propofition,\\nwhich he is going to illuftrate. A firft fentence ihould\\nfeldom be long, and never intricate.\\nHe might have faid, cur fight is the mofl perfect and\\nthe moft delightful But in omitting to repeat the pair-\\nL", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "tZ% CRITICAL EXAMINATION\\ndele the, he has been more judicious for, as between\\nperfect and delightful there is no contraft, fuch a repe-\\ntition is unnecefiary. He proceeds\\nIt fills the mind with the large/} variety of ideas 9 con**\\nverfes with its objects at the greatefl defiance* and contin-\\nues the hngejl in atlion, without being tired or fatiated\\nwith its proper enjoyments\\nThis fentence is remarkably harmonious, and well\\nconftrucled. It is entirely perfpicuous. It is loaded\\nwith no unnecefiary words* That quality of a good\\nfentence, which we termed its unity, is here perfectly\\npreferved. The members of it alfo grow, and rife\\nabove each other in found, till it is conducted to one\\nof the moll harmonious clofes which our language\\nadmits. It is moreover figurative without being too\\nmuch fo for the fubjeft. There is no fault in it what-\\never, except this, the epithet large, which he applies to\\nvariety, is more commonly applied to extent than to\\nnumber. It is plain, however, that he employed it to\\navoid the repetition of the word greats which occurs\\nimmediately afterward.\\nThe fenfe of feeling can, indeed, give us a notion of ex-\\nienfion, /hape 3 and all other ideas that enter at the eye, ex-\\ncept colours hut, at the fame time, it is very much fiiraiU\\nened and confined in its operations, to the number, bulk,\\nand di flame of its particular objects* But is not every\\nfenfe confined as hiuch as the fenfe of feeling, to the\\nnumber, bulk, and diftance of its own obje\u00c2\u00a3ts The\\nimn of expreffion is alio very inaccurate, requiring\\nthe two words, with regard, to be inferted after the\\nword operations, in order to make the fenfe clear and\\nintelligible. The epithet particular feems to be ufed\\nInitead of peculiar s but thefe words, though often", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "OF MR. AI)DTSON 7 S STYLE. 1 23\\nConfounded, are of very different import. Particular\\nis oppofed to general peculiar (lands oppofed to what\\nis poffeffed in common with others*\\nOur fight feeins defined to /apply all theft defetls^ and\\nmay bee as a mo-re delicate and diffuftve kind of\\ntouch thai fpredds if elf over an infinite multitude of bodies,\\ncomprehends the large]} figures, and brings into our reach\\nfome of the mof remote parts of the imiverfe*\\nThis fentence is perfpicuous, graceful, well arrang-\\ned and highly mufical. Its conftruclion is fo fimiiar\\nto that of the fecond fentence, that, had it immediate-\\nly fucceeded it, the ear would have been fenfible of a\\nfaulty monotony. But the interposition of a period\\nprevents this effeft.\\nIt is thisfenfe which furnfhes the imagination with its\\nideas ;fo that, by the pleafures cf the imagination or fancy\\n(which I ji hall ufe promifcuoufly I here mean fuch as\\narife from vifble ohjetls^ either when we have them actu-\\nally in cur view] or when we call up their ideas into our\\nminds by paintings fratuesy defer iptions y or any the like\\nGccafon,\\nThe parenthefis in the middle of this fentence is\\nnot clear. It fhould have been, terms which 1 fhall ufe\\npromifcuoufly fmce the verb ufe does not relate to the\\npleafures of the imagination, but to the terms, fancy\\nand imagination, which were meant to be fynonimous*\\nTo call a painting or a ilatue an occofion is not accu-\\nrate 7 nor is it very proper to fpeak of calling up ideas\\nby cccajions. The common phrafe any fuch meanfy would\\nhave been more natural.\\nWe cannot indeed have afingle image in the fancy, thai\\ndid. not make iisfirf entrance through the fight but we\\nhave ih-e power of retaining^ altering^ and compounding ihoft", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "S24 CRITICAL EXAMINATION\\nimages which we have once received, into all the varieties\\nf piclure and vi/ion, that are mojl agreeable to- the imagina-\\ntion for, by this faculty, a man in a dungeon is capable\\ncf entertaining h wifelf with fcenes and landfcapts more\\nbeautiful than any that can be found in the whole compafs\\nsf nature*\\nIn one member of this fentence there is an inaccu-\\nracy in fyntax. It is proper to fay, altering and com-\\npounding thofe images which we have mice received, into\\nall the varieties of piclure and vifton, But we cannot\\nwith propriety fay, retaining them into all the vari\\neties yet the arrangement requires this conftrudiion.\\nThis error might have been avoided by arranging the\\npaiTage in the following manner We have the pow-\\nCJ er of retaining thofe images which we have once\\nreceived and of altering and compounding them\\na into all the varieties of picture and vi/ion. The\\nlatter part of the fentence is clear and elegant.\\nThere are few words in the En glfj language* which\\nare employed in a more loofe and uncircumfcribed fenfe than\\nthofe of the fancy and the imagination*\\nExcept when fome affertion of confequence is ad-\\nvanced, thefe little words, it is and there are, ought to\\nbe avoided, as redundant and enfeebling. The two\\nfir ft words of this fentence therefore fhould have been\\nomitted. The article prefixed to fancy and imagination\\nought alfo to have been omitted, fince he does not\\nmean the powers of the fancy and the imaghuiUon, but\\nthe words only. The fentence fhould have run thus\\nC( Few words in the Englifh language are employed in\\na more loofe and uncircumfcribed fenfe than fancy\\nand imagination/ 1", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "of mr. adpison s style. 125\\nI therefore thought it neceffary to fx and determine the\\nnotion of thefe two words as I intend to make life of them\\nin the thread of my following /peculations that the reader\\nmay conceive rightly what is the f abject which 1 proceed\\nupon.\\nThe words fix and determine, though they may ap-\\npear fb, are not fynonymous. Wejff* what is loofe\\nwe determine what is uncircumfcribed. They may be\\nviewed, therefore, as applied here with peculiar del-\\nicacy.\\ne notion of thefe words is rather harih, and is not\\nfo commonly ufed, as the meaning of thefe words. As\\nI intend to make ufe of them in the thread of my f peculations\\nis evidently faulty. A fort of metaphor, improperly\\nmixed with words in their literal fenfe. The fubjeft\\nwhich I proceed upon is an ungraceful clofe of a izi\\\\*\\nihould have been, the fubj eel upon which I\\nI mttft therefore deftre him to rem-niber, that by the-\\npleafures of imagination 1 mean only fuch pleafures as arifi\\nginallyfromfght, and that Ld,v:de thefe p/eafures into\\n3 kinds.\\nThis fentence begins in a manner too fimilar to the\\npreceding. I mean only fuch pleafures rhe adverb only\\nis not in its proper place. It is not intended hereto\\nqualify the verb mean, but fuch pleafures and ought\\ntherefore to be placed immediately after the latter.\\nMy dtfign being, firft of all, to difcoufe fthofe prima r?\\npleafures of the imagination, which entirely proceed from\\nfuch objects as are before cur eyes and, in the next place\\npeak of thefe fecoudary pleafures of the imagination whichr\\nfew from the id* as of vifhle cbjecJs, when the objects are\\nmt actually before the eye, but are called u\u00c2\u00a3 into our mzxi^", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "12 S CRITICAL EXAMINATION\\nmies t or formed into agreeable vifions of things, thatare^\\neither abfent or fictitious,\\nNeatnefs and brevity are peculiarly requifite in the\\ndivifion of a fubjeft. This fentence is fomewhat\\nclogged by a tedious phrafeology. My defign beings\\nfirjl of all to difcourfe\u00e2\u0080\u0094in the next place to fpeak of~*\\nJfuch objetls as are before our eyes\u00e2\u0080\u0094 things that are either\\nabfent or fictitious. Several words might have been\\nomitted, and the ftyle made more neat and compact.\\nThe pleasures of the imagination taken in their full ex-\\ntent) are not fo grefs as thofe offenfe, nor fa -refined as thoji\\nof the under/landing.\\nThis fentence is clear and elegant.\\nThe Jajl are indeed more preferable, becaufe they are\\nfounded onfome new hwwledge or improvement of the mind-\\nof man yet it mufi be confeffed, that thofe of the imagi-\\nnation dre as great and as iranfporting as the other.\\nThe phrafe, more preferable, is fo palpable an inaccu-\\nracy, that we wonder how it could efcape the obfer-\\nyatioii of Mr. Addifon, The propofition, contained-\\nin the laft raeihber of this fentence, is neither clearly\\nnor elegantly exprefifed. It mufl be confeffed, that thofe\\nof the imagination are as great and as i r an f porting as the\\nother. In the beginning of this (cntcncQ he had called\\nthe pleafures of the under-Handing the lajl and he;\\nconcludes with obferving, that thofe of the imagina-\\ntion are as great and tranfporting as the othefi. Be-\\nfide that the other makes not a proper contraft with\\nthe lofty it is lefs doubtful whether by the other are\\nmeant the pleafures of the underftanding, or the\\npleafures of fenfe though without doubt it was in-\\ntended to refer to the pleafures. of the underftanding\\nDfcly.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "V MR. ABD1S0N 3 STYLE. 12-7\\nA beautiful p. f peel delights the foul as much as a demon*\\nflration and a defer iption in Homer has charmed more-\\nreaders than a chapter in Ariflotle*.\\nThis is a good illuftration of what he had been af~\\nferting, and is exprefled with that elegance, by which\\nMr. Addifon is diftfnguifhed 7\\nBefides, the pleafures of the imagination have this ad*\\nvantage over thofe of the under/landings thai they are more\\nobvious, and more eafy to be acquired*\\nThis fentence is unexceptionable.\\nIt is but opening the eye, and the fee tie enters.\\nThough this is lively and pidhirefque, yet we muft\\nremark a fmall inaccuracy, A fcene cannot be faid to-\\nmter znaclor enters, but a fcene appears or prejents\\nit/elf.\\nThe colours pait it- themfelves on the fancy with very lit\\nile attention of thought or application of mind in the beholder*.\\nThis is beautiful and elegant, and well fuited to\\nthofe pleafures of the imagination of which the au-\\nthor is treating*\\nWe are jlruck, we know not how-, with the fymmetry of\\nany thing we fee and immediately ajfent to the beauty of\\nan object, without inquiring into the particular caufes and\\noxCafons of it.\\nWe ajfent to the truth of a proportion but cannot\\nwith propriety be faid to ajfent to the beauty, of an object.\\nIn the conclusion, particular and occafions are f super-\\nfluous words and the pronoun it is in feme meafure\\nambiguous.\\nA- man of a polite imagination islet into a great many-\\npleafures that the vulgar are riot capable of receiving*\\nThe term polite is oftener applied to manors, thaa\\nto the imagination. Thz uie oi.that inftead of which", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "I2S CRITICAL EXAMINATION.\\nis too common with Mr. Addifon. Except in cafes\\nwhere it is necefiary to avoid repetition which is pre*\\nferable to that, and is undoubtedly fo in the prefent\\ninftance.\\nHe can converfe with a piclure, and find an agreeable\\ncompanion hi ajtatue. He meets with a fee ret refrefometit\\nin a defcripiion and often feels a greater fatisfacJion in\\nthe profpeB of fields and meadows, than another does in the\\npoj/l/fion. It gives him, indeed, a kind of property in eve-\\nry thing he fees and makes the mofl rude uncultivated\\nparts of nature adminifler to his pleafure fo that he looks\\nupon the world, as it were, in another light, and difcov-\\ners in it a multitude of charms that conceal themf elves\\nfrotn the generality of mankind.\\nThis fentence is eafy, flowing, and harmonious.\\nWe muft, however, obferve a flight inaccuracy. It\\ngives him a kind of property to this it there is no an-\\ntecedent in the whole paragraph. To difcover its.\\nconnexion, we muft look back to the third fentence\\npreceding, which begins with a man of a polite imagina-\\ntion* This phrafe, polite imagination, is the only ante-\\ncedent to which it can refer y and even this is not a\\nproper antecedent, fince it (lands in the genitive cafe\\nas the qualification only of a man.\\nThere are, indeed, but very few who know how to be\\nidle and innocent, or have a reli/Jj of any pleafures that are\\nnot criminal every diver/Ion they take y is at the expenfe\\nQf feme one virtue or another, and: their very firjljlep out\\nof bvftnefs is into vice or folly*\\nThis fentence is truly elegant, muncal and correal.\\nA man fh.ould endeavour,, therefore, to make the fp here\\nif his innocent pleafures as wide as poffible, that he may\\nretire into the?n with fafety, and find in them fuch a fat u^\\nfaBicn, as a wife man would not blufo to take*.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "OF MR. ADDISON*S STYLE. 1 2p\\nThis alfo is a good fentence and expofed to no\\nobjection.\\nOf this nature are thofe of the imagination, which do not\\nrequire fuch a bent oj thought as is necejjary to our morefe-\\nricus employments nor, at the fame time, fuffer the mind\\nto fink into that indolence and remijfnefs, which are apt to\\naccompany our more fenfual delights but like a gentle ex*\\nercife to the faculties, awaken them from fcth and idlenefs\\nwithout putting them upon any labour or difficulty.\\nThe beginning of this fentence is incorrect. Of this\\nnature, fays he, are thofe of the imagination. It might\\nbe afked, of what nature For the preceding fentence\\nhad not defcribed the nature of any clafs of pleafures.\\nHe had fold that it was every man s duty to make the\\nfphere of his innocent pleafures as extenfive, as poffi-\\nble, that within this fphere he might find a fafe~\\nretreat and laudable fatisfa ion. The transition there-\\nfore is loofely made. It would have been better, if he\\nhad faid, This advantage we gain, or this fatis-\\nfacftion we enjoy, by means of \u00e2\u0080\u009ethe pleafures of the\\nimagination. The reft of the fentence is correal.\\nWe might here add, that the pleafures of the fancy are\\nmore conducive to health than thofe of the underflanding,\\nwhich are worked out by dint of thinking, and attended\\nwith too violent a labour of the brain*\\nWorked out by dint of thinking is a phrafe which bor-\\nders too nearly on the ftyle of common converfation^\\nto be admitted into polifhed compofition.\\nDelightful fcenes, whether in nature, painting, or poetry\\nhave a kindly influence on the body, as well as the mind 9\\nand mi only ferve to clear and brighten the imagination f\\nbut are able to difp erf e grief and melancholy and to fet the\\nanimal fpirits in pie of in g and agreeable motions* For this", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "*3\u00c2\u00b0 ELOqpfiNCI.\\nreafon, Sir Francis Bacon, in his effay upon health, has\\nnot thought it improper to prefcribe U his reader a poem or\\nfiprofpetl) where be particularly dijfuades him from knotty\\nandfuhtile difquifitions, and advifes him to purfue Jludies\\nthat fdl the mind with fplendid and illufrious ohfeSts, as\\nhijlorieS) fables y and contemplations $f nature.\\nIn the latter of thefe two periods a member is out\\nof its place. Where he particularly diffuades him from\\nknotty andfuhtile difquiftions ought to precede has not\\nthought it improper to prefcribe \u00c2\u00a3sV.\\nhave in this paper, by way of introduElion, fettled the\\nnotion of thofe pleafures of the imagination, which are the\\nfubjecl of my prefent undertaking, and endeavoured by fev-\\ner al conft derations to recommend to my readers the purfuit\\nof thofe pleafures I f jail in my next paper examine the\\njeveral four ces from whence thefe pleafures are derived*\\nThefe two concluding fentences furniuh examples\\nof proper collocation of circurnftances. We former*\\nly fhowedthat it is difficult fo to difpofe them as not\\nto embarrafs the principal fubje\u00c2\u00a3L Had the follow-\\ning incidental circurnftances, by way of introduction\\nby fever al confederations\u00e2\u0080\u0094 in this paper\u00e2\u0080\u0094 in the next pa*\\nper, been placed in any other fituation, the fentence\\nwould have been neither fo neat^ nor fo clear, as it is\\non the prefent conftru\u00c2\u00a3lion.\\nELOQUENCE. ORIGIN OF ELOQUENCE.\\nGRECIAN ELOQUENCE- DEMOSTHENES.\\nX^LOQUENCE is the art of perfuafion. Its mod\\neffential requiiites are folid argument, clear method*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE. 13*\\nand an appearance of fincerity in the fpeaker, with\\nfuch graces of ftyle and utterance, as command at-\\ntention. Good fenfe muft be its foundation. With\\nout this, no man can be truly eloquent fince fools\\ncan perfuade none but fools. Before we can perfuade\\na man of fenfe, we muft convince him. Convincing\\nand perfuading, though fometimes confounded, arc\\nof very different import. Convi ion affefts the un-\\nderftanding only perfuafion the will and the practice-\\nIt is the bufinefs of a philofopher to convince us of\\ntruth it is that of an orator to perfuade us to a\u00c2\u00a3t\\nconformably to it by engaging our affections in its fa-\\nvour. Convidtion is, however, one avenue to the\\nheart and it is that which an orator muft firft at-\\ntempt to gain for no perfuafion can be ftable, which\\nis not founded on conviction. But the orator muft\\nnot be fatisfied with convincing he muft addrefs\\nhimfelf to the paffions he muft paint to the fancy,\\nand touch the heart. Hence, befide folid argument\\nand clear method, all the conciliating and interefting\\narts of compofition and pronunciation enter into the\\nidea of eloquence.\\nEloquence may be confidered, asconfifting of three\\nkinds or degrees. The firft and loweft is that which\\naims only to pleafe the hearers. Such in general is\\nthe eloquence of panegyricks, inaugural orations, ad-\\ndrefles to great men, and other harangues of this kind.\\nThis ornamental fort of compofition may innocently\\namufe and entertain the mind and may be mixed at\\nthe fame time with yery ufeful fentiments. But it\\nmuft be acknowledged, that, where the fpeaker aims\\nonly to fhine and to pleafe, there is great danger of\\nart being drained into oftentation, and of the compa-\\nction becoming tirefome and infipid.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "532 ELOQUENCE.\\nThe fecond degree of eloquence is, when the fpeak-\\ner aims, not merely to pleafe, but alfo to inform, to\\ninftru\u00c2\u00a3i, to convince when his art is employed in\\nremoving prejudices againft himfelf and his caufe 5 in\\nfele ing the mofl proper arguments, ftating them\\nwith the greateft force, arranging them in the bed\\norder, expreffing and delivering them with propriety\\nand beauty thereby difpofing us to pafs that judg-\\nment, or favour that fide of the caufe, to which he\\nfeeks to bring us. Within this degree chiefly is em-\\nployed the eloquence of the bar.\\nThe third and higheft degree of eloquence is that\\nby which we are not only convinced, but interefted,\\nagitated, and carried along with the fpeaker our paf-\\nfions rife with his we (hare all his emotions we love,\\nwe hate, we refent, as he infpires us and are prompt-\\ned to refolve, or to a\u00c2\u00a3t, with vigour and warmth.\\nDebate in popular affemblies opens the mofl extenfive\\nfield to this fpecies of eloquence 9 and the pulpit alfo\\nadmits it.\\nThis high fpecies of eloquence is always the off.\\nfpring of paffion. By paffion we mean that ftate of\\nmind in which it is agitated and fired by fome ohjedt\\nin view. Hence the univerfally acknowledged power\\nof enthufiafm in publick fpeakers for affecting their\\naudience. Hence all ftudied exclamation and laboured\\nornaments of ftyle, which fhow the mind to be cool\\nand unmoved, are inconfifient with perfuafive elo-\\nquence. Hence every kind of affe ation in gefture\\nand pronunciation detra s fo much from the weight\\nof a fpeaker. Hence the neeeffity of being, and of be-\\ning believed to be, difinterefted and in earneft in or-\\nder to perfuade.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "ORIGIN OF ELOQUENCE. 133\\nIn tracing the origin of eloquence it is not necefTiry\\nto go far back into the early ages of the world, or to\\nfearch for it among the monuments of Eaitern or\\nEgyptian antiquity. In thofe ages, it is true, there\\nwas a certain kind of eloquence but it was more\\nnearly allied to poetry, than to what we properly call\\noratory. While the intercourfe of men was infre-\\nquent, and force was the principal mean employed\\nin deciding controverfies, the arts of oratory and\\nperfua(ion, of reafoning and debate, could be little\\nknown. The firft empires were of the defpotiek kind.\\nA fingle perfon, or at rnoft, a few, held the reins of\\ngovernment. The multitude were accuiiomed to blind\\nobedience they were driven, not perfuaded. Con-\\nfequently none of thofe refinements of fbciety, which\\nmake publick fpeaking an object of importance, were\\nintroduced.\\nBefore the rife of the Grecian Republicks, we per-\\nceive no remarkable appearances of eloquence, as the\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2art of perfuafion aii ;ft gave it fach a fieldi as it\\nnever had before, at er had again\\nfince that time. Greece was divide i many little\\nftates. Thefe were 73 who\\nbeing for their f yrannv fuc led from their\\ndominions, there .:_;\\nical ne plan,\\nanim ally\\njeafbj .ens\\nwas i every kind, but especially\\nfor eloquence. -er the orators, who\\nlis republics, ana take\\na vie snes, in whom eIo juenc\u00c2\u00a3\\n;ido\\\\n, Nov formed by na-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "134 DEMOSTHENES.\\nture either to pleafe or perfuade, he fcruggled with,\\nand furmounted, the moft formidable impediments.\\nHe fhut himfelf up in a cave that he might ftudy with\\nlefs diftraclion. He declaimed by the fea fhore,\\nthat he might be ufed to the noife of a tumultuous\\naflembly and with pebbles in his mouth, that he\\nmight corredt a defect in his fpeech. He pra ifed at\\nhome with a naked fword hanging over his (boulder,\\nthat he might check an ungraceful motion, to which\\nhe was fubjecrh Hence the example of this gre2t man\\naffords the higheft encouragement to every ftudent of\\neloquence fince it (hows how far art and application\\navailed for acquiring an excellence, which nature ap-\\npeared willing to deny.\\nNo orator had ever a finer field than Demofthenes.\\nin his Olynthiacks and Fhilippicksj which are his capital\\norations and undoubtedly to the grealnefs of the fub-\\njecl, and to that integrity and publick fpirit, which\\nbreathe in them, they owe much of their merit. The\\nobject is to rouze the indignation of his countrymen\\nagainft Philip of Macedon, the publick enemy of the lib-\\nerties of Greece and to guard them againft the iniid-\\nious meafures, by which that crafty prince endeavour-\\ned to lay them a deep to danger. To attain this end we\\nfee him ufing every proper mean to animate a people,,\\ndiftinguifhed by jufiicfc, humanity, and valour*, but in\\nmany initances become corrupt and degenerate. He\\nboldly accufes them of venality, indolence, and indif-\\nference to the publkJk caufe while at the feme time\\nhe reminds tlu re of the gloi y of their anceflors, and of\\ntheir prefer rccs His cotemporary orator?,\\nwho were bribed by uaded t)\\nto peace, he openh reproaches :6.rs to their conn-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "DEMOSTHENES. 1 35\\ntry. He not only prompts to vigorous meafures, but\\nlays down the plan of execution. His orations are\\nilrongly animated, and full of the impetuofity and fire\\nof publick fpirit. His compofition is not diltinguifhed\\nby ornament and fplendour. Ic is energy of thought,\\npeculiarly his own, which forms his character, and\\nlets him above all others. He feems not to attend to\\nwords, hut to things. We forget the orator, and think\\nof the fubject. He has no parade no (tudied intro-\\nductions but is like a man full of his fubjecl, who,\\nafter preparing his audience by a lenience or two for\\nhearing plain truths, enters directly on bufinefs.\\nThe ftyle of Demofthenes is ftrong and ccncife,\\nthough fometimes har(h and abrupt. His words are\\nvery expreflive, and his arrangement firm and manly,\\nigent of little graces, he aims at that fublime\\nwhich lies in fentiment. His action and pronunciation\\nwere uncommonly vehement and ardent. His character\\nis of the auftere, rather than of the gentle kind. He\\nis always grave, fericus, paffionate never degrading\\nhimfeif, nor attempting any thing like pleafantry. If\\nhis admirable eloquence be in any refpeel; faulty, it is\\nin this, he fometimes borders on the hard and dry.\\nHe may be thought to want fmoothnefs and grace\\nwhich is attributed to his imitating too clofely the\\nmanner of Tbucydides, who was his great model for\\nftyle, and whofc hiftoryHe tranfcnbeu eight tim.-s with\\nhis own hand. But thefe defects are more than com-\\npenfated by that mafterly force of mafculine eloquence,\\nwinch, as it overpowered all who heard it, cannct-\\nin the prefent day be read wdthout emotion.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "*3$ ROMAN ELOQUENCE.\\nROMAN ELOQUENCE. CICERO, MODERN\\nELOQUENCE.\\nJLlAVING treated of eloquence among the\\nGreeks, we now proceed to confider its progrefs among\\nthe Romans where we mall find one model at leaft\\nof eloquence in its molt fplendid form. The Romans\\nderived their eloquence, poetry, and learning, from the\\nGreeks, and were far inferior to them in genius for\\nall thefe accomplifhments. They had neither their\\nvivacity, nor fenfibility their paffions were not fa\\neafily moved, nor their conceptions (o lively in com-\\nparifon with them they were a phlegmatick people.\\nTh^ir language refembled their character it was reg-\\nular, firm and {lately but wanted that expreffive fim-\\nplicity, that flexibility to fuit every different fpecies of\\ncompofition, by which the Greek tongue is peculiarly\\ndiftinguifhed. Hence we always find in Greek pro-\\nductions more native genius in Roman, more reg-\\nularity and art.\\nAs the Roman government, during the republick,\\nwas of the popular kind, publick fpeaking early became\\nthe mean of acquiring power and diftinclion. But in\\nthe unpoKfhed times of the ftate, their fpeaking hardly\\ndeferved the name of eloquence. It was but a fhort\\ntime before the age of Cicero, that the Roman orators\\nrofe into any reputation. CrafTus and Antonius feem\\nto have been the moil eminent but, as none of their\\nworks are extant, nor any of Hortenfuis s, who was\\nCicero s rival at the bar, it is not neceffary to trans-\\ncribe what Cicero faid of them and of the charafter\\nof their eloquence.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "ClCERO. I37\\nThe object moft worthy of our attention is Cicero\\nhimfeif whofe name alone fuggefts every thing fplen-\\ndid in oratory. With his life and character in other\\nrefpects we are not at prefent concerned. We mall\\nview him only as an eloquent fpeaker and endeavour\\nto mark both his virtues and defeats. His virtues are\\neminently great. In all his orations art is confpicuous.\\nHe begins commonly with a regular exordium, and\\nwith much addrefs prepoffeffes the hearers and itudies\\nto gain their affections. His method is clear, and his\\narguments arranged with great propriety. In clearnefs\\nof method he has advantage over Demofthenes. Every\\nthing is in its proper place he never attempts to move\\nbefore he has endeavoured to convince and in mov-\\ning, particularly the fofter paffions, he is very fuccefs-\\nful. No one ever knew the force of words better\\nthan Cicero. He rolls them along with the greateft\\nbeauty and pomp 5 and in the ilruclure of his fentences\\nis eminently curious and exact. He is always full\\nand flowing never abrupt. He amplifies every thing\\nyet, though his manner is on the whole diffufe, it is\\noften happily varied, and fuited to the fubjecL When*\\na great publick object roufed his mind, and demanded\\nindignation and force, he departs corrfiderably from\\nthat loofe and declamatory manner, to which he at\\nother times is addicted, and becomes very forcible\\nand vehement.\\nThis great orator, however, is not without defeats*\\nIn molt of his orations there is too much art. He\\nfeems often defirous of obtaining admiration, rather\\nthan of operating conviction. He is fornetimes there-\\nfore (howy, rather than folid and diffufe, where he\\nought to be urgent. His periods are always round\\nM", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "*3 8 CICERO.\\nand fonorous they cannot be accufed of monotony,\\nfor they poffefs variety of cadence but, from too\\ngreat fondnefs for magnificence, he is fometimes defi-\\ncient in (trength. Though the fervices which he\\nperformed for his country, were very confiderable,\\nyet he is too much his own panegyriil. Ancient\\nmanners, which impofed fewer reltraints on the fide\\nof decorum, may in fome degree excufe, but cannot\\nentirely juflify his vanity.\\nWhether Demofthehes or Cicero were the moft\\nperfeci orator is a queftion, on which criticks are not\\nagreed. Fenelon, the celebrated Archbilhop of Cam-\\nbray, and author of Teiemachus, feems to have dated\\ntheir merits with great juitice and perfpicuity. His\\njudgment is given in his reflections on rhetorick and\\npoetry. We (hall tranfiate the pafiage, though not,\\nit is feared, without iofing much of the fpirit of the\\noriginal. I do not he fit ate to declare, fays he, that\\nI think Dtmofthenes fuperior to Cicero. I am per-\\nfuaded, no one can admire Cicero more than I do.\\nHe adorns whatever he attempts. He does honour\\nto language. He difpofes of words in a manner pe-\\ncuiiar to himfeif. His ftyle has great variety cf\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci character. Whenever he pleafes, he is even concife\\nand vehement for inftance, againit Catiline, againil\\nM Vcrres, againit Anthony- But ornament is too vifi-\\nble in his writings. His art is wonderful, but it is\\nperceived. When the orator iing for the\\nfafety of the republick, he for himfeif, nor\\npermits others to forge I ies feems\\nto efcape from himfeif, and to fee nothing but his\\nJ country. He feeks not elegance of exprefiion i\\nunfought,he poffefies it. He is fuperiour to admire", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "MODERN ELOQUENCE. 13^\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00acf tion. He makes ufe of language as a modefl: man\\ncl does of drefs, only to cover him. He thunders,\\nu he lightens. He is a torrent which carries every\\nc thing before it. We cannot criticife, becaufe we\\nu are not ourfelves. His fubje\u00c2\u00a3t enchains our atten-\\nCl tion, and makes us forget his language. We lofe\\nu him from our fight Philip alone occupies our\\nminds. I am delighted with both thefe orators\\nCl but I confefs that I am lefs affe ed by the infinite\\nc art and magnificent eloquence of Cicero, than by\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci the rapid fimplicity of Demofthenes.\\nThe reign of eloquence among the Romans was\\nvery fhort. It expired with Cicero. Nor can we\\nwonder at this for liberty was no more, and the\\ngovernment of Rome was delivered over to a fucceflion\\nof the mod execrable tyrants that ever difgraced and\\nfcourged the human race.\\nIn the decline of the Roman Empire the introduc-\\ntion of Chriitianity gave rife to a new kind of eloquence\\nin the apologies, fermons, and paftoral writings of the\\nfathers. But none of them afforded very juft models\\nof eloquence. Their language, as foon as we deicend\\nto the third or fourth century, becomes harth and\\nthey are generally infected with the tafte of that age,\\na love of fwollen and itrained thoughts, and of the\\nplay of words.\\nAs nothing in the middle ages deferves attention,\\nwe pafs now to the ftate of eloquence in modern times.\\nHere it mud be confeiTed^ that in no European nation\\npublick fpeaking has been valued ib highly, or cultivated\\nwith fo much care, as in Greece or Rome. The ge-\\nnius of the world appears in this refpeel to have un~\\ndergone fome alteration. The two countries^ where", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "J 49 MOBERN FXO^tTENCE.\\nwe might expect to find mod of the fpirit of eloquence,\\nare Fiance and Great Britain; France, on account of\\nthe diftinguiftied turn of its inhabitants toward all the\\nliberal arts, and of the encouragement which more\\nthan a century pad thefe arts have received from the\\npublick Great Britain, on account of its free govern-\\nment, and the liberal fpirit and genius of its people.\\nYet in neither of thefe countries has oratory rifen\\nnearly to the degree of its ancient fplendour.\\nSeveral reafons may be given, why modern eloquence\\nhas been fo confined and humble in its efforts. In\\nthe firfl: place, it feems, that this change mud in part\\nbe afcribed to that accurate turn of thinking, which\\nhas been fo much cultivated in modern times, t Our\\npublick fpeakers are obliged to be more referved than\\nthe ancients, in their attempts to elevate the imagina-\\ntion, and warm the pailions and by the influence of\\nprevailing tafte, their own genius is chaftened perhaps\\nin too great a degree. It is probable alfo, that we af-\\ncribe to our corre nefs and good ienfe, what is chief-\\nly owing to the phlegm and natural coldnefs of our\\ndifpofition. For the vivacity and fenfibility of the\\nGreeks and Romans, efpecially of the former, feem\\nto have been much fuperiour to ours, and to have giv-\\nen them a higher reliili for all the beauties of oratary.\\nThough the Parliament of Great Britain is the no-\\nbleit field which Europe at prefent affords to a publick\\nfpeaker, yet eloquence has ever been there a more fee-\\nble inftrument than in the popular affemblies of Greece\\nand Rome. Under fome foreign reigns the iron hand\\nof -arbitrary power checked its efforts; and in later\\ntimes minifterial influence has generally rendered it of\\nfmall importance. At the bar pur difadvantage ia", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE OF POPULAR ASSEMBLIES 14!\\ncomparifon with the ancients is great. Among them\\nthe judges were commonly numerous the laws were\\nfew and fimple the decifion of caufes was left in a\\ngreat meafure to equity and the fenfe of mankind.\\nHence the field for judicial eloquence was ample.\\nBut at prefent the fyftem of law is much more com-\\nplicated. The knowledge of it is rendered fo labori-\\nous, as to be the ftudy of a man s life. Speaking is\\ntherefore only a fecondary accompliihment, for which\\nhe has little leifure.\\nWith refpec* to the pulpit it has been a great dis-\\nadvantage, that the practice of reading ferraons in-\\nftead of repeating them has prevailed fo univerfaily ia\\nEngland. This indeed may have introduced accura-\\ncy but eloquence has been much enfeebled. Anoth-\\ner circumftance too has been prejudicial. The fecla-\\nries and f ana ticks before the reftoration ufed a warm,\\nzealous j and popular manner of preaching and their\\nadherents afterward continued to diiiinguifh them-\\nfelves by fimilar ardour Hatred of thefe feels drove\\nthe eftablifhed church into the oppofite extreme of a\\nftudied coolnefs of expreffion. Hence from the art\\nof perfuafion, which preaching ought ever to be, it\\nhas puffed, in England, into mere veafoning and ii\\nftru ion.\\nELOQUENCE OF POPULAR ASSEMBLIES,\\nX HE foundation of every fpecies of eloquence\\nis good fenfe and folid thought. It mould be the firft\\nftudy of him, who means to addrefs a popular aflem*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "142 ELOQUENCE OF POPULAR ASSEMBLIES.\\nbly,to be previoufly m after of the bufinefs on which\\nhe is to fpeak to be well provided with matter and\\nargument and to reft upon thefe the chief ftrefs.\\nThis will give to his difcourfe an air of manlinefs\\nand ftrength, which is a powerful inftrument of per-\\nfuafion. Ornament, if he have genius for it, will\\nfucceed of courfe 5 at any rate, it defer ves only fee-\\nondary regard.\\nTo become a perfuafive fpeaker in a popular affem-\\nbly, it is a capital rule, that a man (hould. always be\\nperfuaded of whatever he recommends to others.\\nNever, if it can be avoided, fhould he efpoufe that\\nfide of an argument, which he does r.ot believe to be\\nthe right. All high eloquence rnuit. be the offspring\\nof paffion. This makes every man perfuafive, and\\ngives a force to his genius which it cannot otherwife\\npoflefs.\\nDebate in popular affemblies feldom allows a fpeak-\\ner that previous preparation which the pulpit always,\\nand the bar fometimes, admits. A general prejudice\\nprevails, and not an unjuft one, againft fet fpeeches\\nin publick meetings. At the opening of a debate they\\nmay fometimes be introduced with propriety but, as\\nthe debate advances, they become improper they\\nlofe the appearance of being fuggefted by the bufinefs\\nthat is going on. Study and oftentatidn are apt to\\nbe vifible and, confequently, though admired as ele-\\ngatit, they are feldom fo perfuafive as more free and\\nunconft rained difcourfes.\\nThis, however, does not forbid premeditation, on\\nwhat we intend to fpeak. With refpe\u00c2\u00a3t to the matter\\nwe cannot be too accurate in our preparation but\\nwith regard to words and expreffions it is very poffibie", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE OF POPULAR ASSEMBLIES. 143\\nfo far to overdo, as do render our fpeech fliff and pre-\\neife. Short notes of the fubftance of the difcourfe\\nare not only allowable, but of confiderable fervice, to\\nthofe efpecially, who are beginning to fpeak in publick.\\nThey will teach them a degree of accuracy, which, if\\nthey fpeak frequently, they are in danger of lofing.\\nThey will accuflom them to diftin\u00c2\u00a3l arrangement,\\nwithout which, eloquence, however great, cannot pro-\\nduce entire conviction.\\nPopular affemblies give fcope for the moil animat-\\ned manner of publick fpeaking. Pafficn is eafily excit-\\ned in a great affembly, where the movements are com-\\nmunicated by mutual fympathy between the orator\\nana the audience. That ardour of fpeech, that vehe-\\nmence and glow of fentiment, which proceed from a\\nmind animated a,nd infpired by fame great and publick\\nobje j form the peculiar character of popular elo-\\nquence in its higheft degree of perfection,\\nTh h, however, which we exprefs, mud be\\nalways fuited to the fubject fiiice it would be ridicu-\\nlous io introduce great vehemence into a fubjecl of\\nfmall importance, or. which by its nature requires to\\nbe treated with c hnnefs. We muft ?A{q be careful\\nno! to counterfeit warmth without feeling it The\\nbeft rule is, to follow nature and never to attempt a\\ndrain of eloquence which is not prompted by our own\\ngenius. A fpeaktr may acquire eputation and influ-\\nence by a calm, argumentative manner. To reach the\\npathetiek and fublime of oratory requires thofe ftrong\\nfenfibilities of mind, and that high power of expreffien,\\nwhich are given to few.\\nEven wli n vehemence is juftified by the fubjecl:,\\nand prompted by genius when warmth is felt, not", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "1 44 ELOQUENCE OF POPULAR ASSEMBLIES.\\nfeigned we mud be cautious, left impetuofity tranf-\\nport us too far. If the fpeaker lofe com m and of him-\\nfelf, he will foon lofe command of his audience. He\\nmuft begin with moderation, and ft-udy to Wsfcfti his\\nhearers gradually and equally with himfelf. F or if\\ntheir pa (Eons be not in unifon with his,\\nwill foon be felt. Refpeft for his audiei\\nways lay a decent reftraint upon his wan-\\nvent it from carrying him beyond proper li tr\\nWhen a fpeaker is fo far mafter of hi 3\\npreferve clofe attention to argument* and t feme\\ndegree of accurate expreffion 5 this felt c this\\neffort of reafon in the rnidit of paffion, contributes\\nin the higheft degree both to pleafe and co perfuade*\\nThe advantages of paffion are afforded for t\\npofes of perfuaficn without that confufion and difor-\\nder which are its ufual attendants,\\nIn the molt animated (train of popular fpeaking we\\nmuft always regard what the publick ear will receive\\nwithout difguft. Without attention to (his, imitation\\nof ancient orators might betray a fpeaker into a hoid-\\nnefs of manner, with which the coolnefs of modern\\ntafte would be difpleafed. It is alfo neceflar^ to at-\\ntend with care to the decorums of time, place and\\ncharacter. No ardour of eloquence can atone for neg-\\nlect of thefe. No one fhouid attempt to fpeak in\\npublick without forming to himlelf a juftand flrict\\nidea of what is fuitable to his age and character what\\nis fuitable to the fubjecl the hearers, the place, and\\nthe occafion. On this idea he mould adjuft the whole\\ntrain and manner of his fpeaking.\\nWhat degree of concifenefs or diffufenefs is failed\\nto popular eloquence, it is not eafy to determine with", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE .OF THE.- BAR. I 4 J\\nrecifion. A cliffy fe manner is generally confidered\\n.as mod proper. There is danger, however, of erring\\nin this refpe\u00c2\u00a3l j by too diffufe a ftyle publick fpeakers\\noften lofe more in point of ftrength, than they gain\\nby fulnefs of illustration. Exceffive coneifenefs in-\\ndeed mud be avoided. We mull explain and incul-\\ncate but confine ourfelves within certain limits.\\nWe fhould never forget that, however we may be\\npleafed with hearing ourfelves fpeak, every audience\\nmay be tired and the moment they grow weary, our\\neloquence becomes ufelefs. It is better in general,\\nto fay too little, than too much to place our thought\\nin one ftrong point of view, and red it there, than by\\nfliowing it in every light, and pouring forth a profu-\\nfion of words upon it, to exhauft jthe attention of our\\nfearers, and leave them languid and fatigued.\\nTi\\nELOQUENCE OF THE BAR.\\nHE ends of fpeaking at the bar and in pop*\\nular affemblies are commonly different. In the latter\\nthe orator aims principally to perfuade to determine\\nhis hearers to fome choice or conduct, as good, fit,\\nor ufeful. He, therefore, applies himfelf to every\\nprinciple of action in our nature 5 to the paffions and\\nto the heart, as well as to the underftanding. But at\\nthe bar conviction is the principal object. There the\\nfpeaker s duty is not to perfuade the judges to what\\nis good or ufeful, but to exhibit what is juft and true 5\\nand confcquently his eloquence is chiefly addreffed to\\nthe underftanding.\\nAt the bar fpeakers addrefs themfelves to one, or\\nto a* few judges, who are generally perfons of age,\\nN", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "1^6 ELOQUENCE OF THE BAR.\\ngravity, and dignity of character. There thofe ad-\\nvantages which a mixed and numerous aflembly af-\\nfords for employing all the arts of fpeech are not en-\\njoyed. Paffion does not rife fo eafily. The fpeaker\\nis heard with more coolnefs he is watched with more\\nfcverity and would expofe himfelf to ridicule by at-\\ntempting that high and vehement tone, which is fuit-\\ncd only to a multitude. Befide, at the bar, the field\\nDf fpeaking is confined within law and ftatute. Im-\\nagination is fettered. The advocate has always before\\nMm the line, the fquare, 2nd the compafs. Thefe it\\nis his chief bufinefs to be conftantly applying to the\\nfubje\u00c2\u00a3ts under debate.\\nHence the eloquence of the bar is of a much more\\nlimited, more fober and chaftifed kind, than that of\\npopular affemblies 5 and confequently the judicial\\norations of the ancients mud not be confidered as\\ncxa\u00c2\u00a3t models of that kind of fpeaking which is adapt-\\ned to the prefent ft ate of the bar. With them drift\\nlaw was much lefs an objedl of attention, that it is\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6with us. In the days of Demofthenes and Cicero the\\nmunicipal ftatutes were few, fimple and general\\n*nd the decifion of caufes was left in a great meafure\\nfcothe equity and common fenfe of the judges. Elo-\\nquence, rather than jurifprudence, was the ftudy of\\njpleaders. -Cicero fays that three months ftudy would\\nmake a complete civilian nay, it was thought that a\\nman might be a good pleader without any previous\\nftudy. Among the Remans there was a fet of men,\\ncalled Pragmatici) whofe office it was to fupply the\\ncrator with all the law knowledge his caufe. required\\nwhich- he difpofed in that popular form, aiid decorated\\nwith thofe colours of eloquence which were moil fit-\\nted for influencing the judges.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "ELOQtfSNCE 0\u00c2\u00a3 THE BAR. 147\\nIt may alfo be obferve-d, that the civil and criminal\\njudges in Greece and Rom 2 were more numerous\\nthan with us, and formed a kind of popular aflembly.\\nThe celebrated tribunal of the Areopagus at Athens\\nconfided of fifty judges at lead. In Rome the Judlee?\\nSetiffi were always numerous, and had the office and\\npower of judge and jury. In the famous caufe o\u00c2\u00a3\\nMil a, Cicero fpoke to fifty-one Judices SeleEli^ and\\nthus had the advantage of add re fling his whole plead-*\\ning, not to one or a few learned judges of the point\\npf law, as is the cafe with us, but to an aflembly oi\\nRoman citizens. Hence thofe arts of popular elo-\\nquence, which he employed with fuch fuccefs.\\nHence certain practices, which would be reckoned\\ntheatrical by us, were common at the Roman bar\\nfuch as introducing not only the accufed perfon dreflf-\\ned in deep mourning, but prefenting to the judges his\\nfamily and young children, endeavouring to excite\\npity by their cries and tears.\\nThe foundation of a lawyer s reputation and fuccefs\\nmud be laid in a profound knowledge of his profeffion.\\nIf his abilities; as a fpeaker, be ever fo eminent yet\\nif his knowledge of the law be fuperficial, few will\\nchoofe to engage him in their defence. Befide pre-\\nvious fludy and an ample dock of acquired knowl-\\nedge, another thing inieparable from the fuccefs of\\nevery pleader, is a diligent and painful attention to\\nevery caufe with which he is entrufted.; to all tha\\nfacts and circumdances with which it is connected.\\nThus he will in a great meafure be prepared for the\\narguments, of his opponent and, being previoufly ac-\\nquainted with the weak- parts of his own caufe, he\\nwill be able to fortify them in the bed manner againft\\nthe attack of his adverfary.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "148 euo qjjence of the bar.\\nThough the ancient popular and vehement manner\\nof pleading is now in a great meafure fuperfeded, we\\nmult not infer that there is no room for eloquence\\nat the bar, and that the ftudy of it is fuperfluous.\\nThere is perhaps no fcene of publick fpeaking, where\\neloquence is more requifite. The drynefs and fub-\\ntility of fubjedts ufually agitated at the bar, require,,\\nmore than any other, a certain kind of eloquence, in\\norder to command attention to give weight to the\\narguments employed, and to prevent what the plead-\\ner advances from pafling unregarded. The effedi\\nof good fpeaking is always great. There is as much\\ndifference in the impreffion made by a cold, dry and\\nconfufed fpeaker, and that made by one who pleads\\nthe fame caufe with elegance, order and ftrength,\\nas there is between our conception of an objedt, when\\nprefented in twilight, and when viewed in the efful-\\ngence of noon.\\nPurity and neatnefs of expreffion is in this fpecies\\nof eloquence chiefly to be ftudied a flyle perfpicuous\\nand proper, not needlefsly overcharged with the ped-\\nantry of law terms, nor affe edly avoiding thefe,\\nwhen fuitable and requifite. Verbofity is a fault of\\nwhich men of this profeffion are frequently accufed\\ninto which the habit of fpeaking and writing nattily,\\nand with little preparation, almoft unavoidably \u00e2\u0096\u00a0betrays\\nthem. It cannot therefore be too earnefUy recom-\\nmended to thofe, who are beginning to practice at the\\nbar, that they early guard againfl: this, while they have 4\\nleifure for preparation. Let them form them fe Ives -to\\nthe habit of a ftrong and corre\u00c2\u00a3t ftyle which wilt\\nbecome natural to them afterward, when compelled\\nby multiplicity of bufinefs to compofe with preeipita*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE OF THE BAR. 149\\ntton. Whereas, if a loofe and negligent ftyle have\\nbeen fuiTered to become familiar, they will not be\\nable, even upon occafions when they wifh to make an\\nunufual effort, to exprefs themfelves with force and\\nelegance.\\nDiftin\u00c2\u00a3hiefs in fpeaking at the bar is a capital prop*-\\nerty. It fliould be (hown firtl in ftating the queftion^\\nin exhibiting clearly the point in debate 5 what we ad-\\nmit what we deny and where the line of divider*\\nbegins between us and the adverfe party. Next, it\\nfhould appear in the order and arrangement of all the\\nparts of the pleading, A clear method is of the high-\\n\u00c2\u00a3il confequence in every fpecies of oration but in\\nthofe intricate cafes, which belong to the bar, it is\\ninfinitely effentiaL\\nNarration of fa\u00c2\u00a3ts fhould always be as concife as-\\nthe nature of them- will admit. They are always very\\nneceffiiry to be remembered 1 confequently unneceffary\\nminutenefs in relating them overloads the memory\\nWhereas, if a pleader omit all fuperfluous circum-\\nfiances in his- recital, he adds ftrength to the material\\nidtis gives a clearer view of what he relates, and\\nmakes the impreffion of it more lading. In argu*\\nmentation^ however,- a more difFufe manner feems\\nrequifite at the bar than on fome other occafions.\\nFor in popular aflemblies, where the fubje\u00c2\u00a3fc of debate\\nis often a plain queftion, arguments gain ftrength by\\nconcifenefs. But the intricacy of law points frequent-\\nly requires the arguments to be expanded and: placed\\nin different lights, in order to be fully apprehended.\\nCandour inflating, the arguments of his adverfary\\ncannot be too much recommended to every pleader*\\nIf he difguife them, or place them in a falfe light, thi*\\nM 2.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "150 ELOQUENCE OF THE BAR.\\nartifice will foon be difcovered and the judge and\\nthe hearers will conclude, that he either wants dif-\\nrernment to perceive, orfairnefs to admit the ftrength\\nof his opponent s reafoning. But if he ftate with ac-\\ncuracy and candour the arguments ufed againft him,\\nbefore he endeavour to combat them, a (Iron g preju-\\ndice is created in his favour. He will appear to have\\nentire confidence in his caufe, fince he does not at-\\ntempt to fupport it by artifice or concealment. The\\njudge will therefore be inclined to receive more readi-\\nly the impreffions made upon him by a fpeaker whq\\nappears both fair and penetrating.\\nWit may fometimes be ferviceable at the bar, par-\\nticularly iii a lively reply, by which ridicule is thrown\\non what an adverfary has advanced. But a young\\npleader fbould never reft his ftrength on this dazzling\\ntalent. His office is not to excite laughter, but ta\\nproduce conviction nor perhaps did any oiie ever\\nrife to an eminence in his profeffion by being a witty\\nlawyer.\\nSince an advocate perfonates his client, he muf|\\nplead his caufe with a proper degree of warmth. He\\nmuft be cautious however of proftituting his earnefi-\\nnefs and fenfibility by an equal degree of ardour orv\\nevery fubject. There is a dignity of character, which\\nit is highly important for every one of this profeffion\\nto fupport. An opinion of probity and honour in a\\npleader is hi$ mod powerful in {transient of perfuafion.\\nHe fhould always, therefore, decline embarking in\\ncaufes which are odious and manifeitly unjuft; and,\\nwhen he fupports a doubtful caufe, he mould lay the\\nchief ftrefs upon thofe arguments which appear to him\\nto be moll forcible; referving his Zealand indigna-\\ntion for cafes where isjuftice and iniquity are flagnmt*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. l$t\\nELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.\\nXjL AVING treated of the eloquence of popu*-\\nlar affemblies, and that of the bar,, we (hall now\\nconfider the (train and fpirit of that eloquence which\\nis fuited to the pulpit. This field of publick fpeaking\\nhas feveral advantages peculiar to itfelf. The dignity\\nand importance of its fubjects muft. be allowed to be\\nfuperiour to any other. They admit the higheft em-\\nbellifhment in description, and the greatefl warmth\\nand vehemence of expreffion. In treating his fubje\u00c2\u00a3l\\nthe preacher has alfo peculiar advantages. He fpeaks\\nnot to one or a few judges, but to a large aiTembly.\\nHe is not afraid of interruption. He choofes his fub-\\nJe\u00c2\u00a3l at leifure and has all the affiftance of the mod\\naccurate premeditation. The difadvantages, however,:\\nwhich attend the eloquence of the pulpit, are not in-\\nconsiderable. The preacher, it is true, has no conten-\\ntion with an adverfary but debate awakens genius,\\nand excites attention. His fubjects, though noble,\\nare trite and common. They are become fo familiar\\nto the publick ear, that it requires no ordinary genius\\nin the preacher to fix attention. Nothing is more\\ndifficult than to bellow on what is common the grace\\nof novelty; Befides, the fubjecl of the preacher ufu-\\nally confines him to abftradi: qualities, to virtues and\\nvices whereas, that of other popular fpeakers leads\\nthem to treat of perfons; which is generally more in-\\nteresting to the hearers, and occupies more powerful-\\nly the imagination. We are taught by the preacher\\nto deteft only the crime by the pleader to deteft the\\ncriminal. Hence it happens that, though the number", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "l$t ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.\\nof moderately good preachers is great, fo few have\\narrived at eminence. Perfection is very diftant from\\nmodern preaching. The object, however, is truly\\nnoble and worthy of being purfued with zeal.\\nTo excel in preaching, it is neceffary to have a fix-\\ned and habitual view of its obje\u00c2\u00a3t. This is to per-\\nfuade men to become good. Every fermon ought\\ntherefore to be a perfuafive oration. It is not to dif-\\ncufs fome abftrufe point, that the preacher afcends\\nthe pulpit. It is not to teach his hearers fomething\\nnew, but to make them better to give them at once\\nclear views and perfuaiive impreflions of religious\\ntruths*\\nThe principal chara\u00c2\u00a3terifiicks of pulpit eloquence r\\nas diftinguifhed from the other kinds of publick fpeak-\\ning, appear to be thefe two-) gravity and warmth. It\\nis neither eafy nor common to- unite thefe characters\\n\u00c2\u00a9f eloqwence. The grave, when it is predominant,\\nbecomes a dull, uniform folemnity. The warm, when\\nk wants gravity, borders- on the light and theatrical.\\nA proper union of the two, forms that character of\\npreaching, which the French call Oncllon that af~\\n\u00c2\u00a3e\u00c2\u00a3ting, penetrating, and interesting manner, which\\nflows from a ftrong. fenfe in the preacher of the im-\\nportance of the truths he delivers, and an earneit de-\\nfire that they may make full impreffion on the hearts\\nef his hearers.\\nA fermon, as a particular fpecies of compofition,\\nrequires the fl:ri\u00c2\u00a3left attention to unity. By this we\\nmean that there fhould be fome main point to which\\nthe whole tenor of the fermon fhall refer. It mud\\nnot be a pile of different fubjedts heaped upon each\\nother but one objeft mult predominate through th$", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPlTi I53\\nwhole. Hence*- however, it mud not be under(tood\\nthat there fhould be no divifions or feparate heads in\\na difcourfe nor that one fingle thought only fhould\\nbe exhibited in different points of view. Unity is\\nnot to be underftood in fo limited a fenfe it admits-\\nfome variety it requires only that union and con-\\nnexion be fo far preferved, as to make the whole con-\\ncur in fome one imprcflion on the mind. Thus, for\\nin (lance, a preacher may employ feveral different ar-\\nguments to enforce the love of God 5 he may alfo\\ninquire into the caufes of the decay of this virtue 9\\nftill one great obje\u00c2\u00a3l is prefented to the mind. But\\nif becaufe his text fays, He that loveth God, muft\\nlove his brother alfo/ he fhould therefore mix in\\nthe fame difcourfe arguments for the love of God\\nand for the love of our neighbour, he would grofsly\\noffend againfl. unity and leave a very confufed imprefi*\\nfi on on the minds of his hearers.\\nSermons are always more finking, and generally\\nmore ufefui, the more precife and particular the fubje\u00c2\u00a3k\\nof them is. Unity can never be fo perfect: in a gen-\\neral, as in a particular fubje\u00c2\u00a3t. General. fubje\u00c2\u00a3is, in-\\ndeed, fuch as the exelicency or the pleafures of relig-\\nion, are often choien by young preachers, as the moffe\\nfhowy? and the eafiefl to be handled but thefe fub-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3ts produce not the high effects of preaching. At-\\ntention is much mare commanded by taking fome par-\\nticular view of a great fubje\u00c2\u00a3l, arid employing on that\\nthe whole force of argument and eloquence. To rec-\\nommend fome one virtue* or inveigh againfl a partic-\\nular vice, affords a fubje\u00c2\u00a3l not deficient in unity or/\\nprecifion. But if that virtue or vice be considered\\nas* afftuning.- a particular afpe\u00c2\u00a3t in certain chara\u00c2\u00a3ler", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "154 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.\\nor certain (ituations in life, the fubjeft becomes dill\\nmore interefting. The execution is more difficult,\\nbut the merit and the effe\u00c2\u00a3t are higher.\\nA preacher (hould be cautious not to exhauft his\\nfabje\u00c2\u00a3l fince nothing is more opposite to perfuafion,\\nthan unneceflary and tedious fulnefs There are aU\\nways fome things which he may fuppofe to be known,\\nand fome which require only brief attention. If he\\nendeavour to omit nothing which his fubjeft fuggeiis,\\nhe muft unavoidably encumber it and diminiih its\\nforce.\\nTo render his inftru\u00c2\u00a3Hons interefting to his hearers\\nfliould be the grand object of every preacher. He\\nfhould bring home to their hearts the truths which he\\ninculcates, and make each fuppofe hi mfelf particular-\\nly addrefled. He (hould avoid all intricate reafonings\\navoid expreffing himfelf in general, fpeculative propo-\\nrtions or-daying down practical truths in an abitra\u00c2\u00a3t,\\nmetaphyfical manner. A difcourfe ought to be car-\\nried on in the ftrain of dire\u00c2\u00a3t addrefs to the audience\\nnot in the ftrain of one writing an effay, but one\\nfpeaking to a multitude, and ftudymg to conne\u00c2\u00a3l\\nwhat is called application, or what immediately refers\\nto pra\u00c2\u00a3tice, with the do\u00c2\u00a3lrinal parts of the fermon.\\nIt is always highly advantageous to keep in view\\nthe different ages, characters, and conditions of men,\\nand to accommodate directions and exhortations to\\neach of thefe different claffes. Whenever you advance\\nwhat touches a man s character, or is applicable to his\\ncircumftances, you are fure of his attention. No fludy\\nis more neceffary for a preacher, than the fludy of\\nhuman life, and of the human heart. To difeover a\\nipaau to himfelf in a light, in which he, never faw his", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 1 55\\ncharacter before, produces a wonderful effect. Thofe\\nfermons, though the moft difficult in compofition,\\nare not only the moft beautiful, but alfo the moft\\nufeful, which are founded on the illuftration of feme\\npeculiar character, or remarkable piece of hiftory in\\nthe facred writings by purfuing which we may trace,\\nand lay open, fome of the moft fecret windings of the\\nhuman heart. Other topicks of preaching are become\\ntrite but this is an extenfive field which hitherto has\\nbeen little explored, and pofiefles ail the advantages\\nof being curious, new, and highly ufeful. Bifhop\\nButler s fermons on the chara er of Balaam is an\\nexample of this kind of preaching.\\nFalhion, which operates fo extenfively on human\\nmanners has given to preaching at different times a\\nchange of character. This however is a torrent which\\nfwells to-day and fubfides to-morrow. Sometimes\\npoetical preaching is fafhionable fometimes philo-\\nfophical. At one time it muft be all pathetick j at\\nanother all argumentative as fome celebrated preach-\\ner has fet the example. Each of thefe modes is very de-\\nfective and who conforms himfelf to it, will both\\nconfine and corrupt his genius. Truth and good fenfe\\nare the fole bafis, on which he can build with fafety.\\nMode and humour are feeble and unfteady. No ex-\\nample (hould be fervilely imitated. From various\\nexamples the preacher may collecT materials for im-\\nprovement but fcrvility of imitation .extinguifhes all\\ngenius, or rather proves entire want of it.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "i$6 COttBUCT OF^A DISCOURSE,\\nCONDUCT OF A DISCOURSE IN ALL\\nITS PARTS. INTRODUCTION, DIVISION,\\nNARRATION, AND EXPLICATION.\\nJLJ.AVING already con ftdered what is pecu-\\nliar to each of the three great fields of publick fpeak-\\ning, popular affernblies, the bar, and the pulpit, we\\nihall now treat of what is common to them all, and\\nexplain the condudt of a difcourfe or oration in\\ngeneral.\\nThe parts which compofe a regular oration are\\nthefe fix the exordium or introduction the ft ate or\\nthe divifion of the fubje\u00c2\u00a3i narration or explication\\nthe reafoning or arguments the pathetick part and\\nthe conclufion. It is not neceiTiiry that each of thefe\\nenter into every publick difcourfe, nor that they al-\\nways enter in this order. There are many excellent\\ndifcourfes in which fome of thefe parts are omitted.\\nBut, as they are the conftituent parts of a regular o-\\nration, and as in every difcourfe fome of them m.uft\\noccur, it is agreeable to our prefent purpofe to ex-\\namine each of them diftincily.\\nThe defign of the introduction is to conciliate the\\ngood will of the hearers to excite their attention\\n2nd to render them open to perfuafion. When a\\nfpeaker is previoufly fecure of the good will* atten-\\ntion, and docility of his audience 5 a formal introduc-\\ntion may be omitted. Refpecl for his hearers will in\\nthat cafe require only a (hort exordium, to prepare\\nthem for the other parts of his difcourfe.\\nThe introduction is a part of a difcourfe, which re*\\nquires no fmaii care. It is always important to begin", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. I57\\nwell 5 to make a favourable impreflion at firft fetting\\nout, when the minds of the hearers, as yet vacant and\\nfree, are more eafily prejudiced in favour of the fpeak-\\ner. We muft add, alfo, that a good introduction is\\nfrequently found to be extremely difficult. Few parts\\nof a difcourfe give more trouble to the compofer, or\\nrequire more delicacy in the execution.\\nAn introduction fhould be eafy and natural. It\\nfhould always be fuggefted by the fubject. The writ-\\ner fhould not plan it before he has meditated in his\\nown mind the fubftance of his difcourfe. By taking\\nthe oppofite courfe, and compofing in the firit place\\nan introduction, the writer will often find that he is\\neither led to lay hold of fome common- place topick, or\\nthat inftead of the introduction being accomodated\\nto the difcourfe, he is under the neceffity of accom-\\nmodating the difcourfe to the introdu ion.\\nIn this part of a difcourfe corre\u00c2\u00a3inefs of expreflion\\nfhould be carefully (tudied. This is peculiarly requi-\\nfite on account of the fituation of the hearers. A t the\\nbeginning they are more difpofed to criticife, than at\\nany other period they are then occupied by the fub-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3l and the arguments their atttention is entirely di-\\nrected to the fpeaker s ftyle and manner. Care there-\\nfore is requifite to prepoffefs them in his favour j\\nthough too much art muft be cautioufly avoided, fince\\nit will then be more eafily detected, and will derogate\\nfrom that perfuafion, which the other parts of the\\ndifcourfe are intended to produce.\\nModefty is alfo an indifpenfable charafleriftick of a\\ngood introduction. If the fpeaker begin with an air\\nof arrogance and orientation, the felf-love and pride\\nof his hearers will be prefently awakened, and ioiiow\\no", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "358 INTRODUCTION.\\nhim with a very fufpicious eye through the reft of his\\ndifcourfe. His modefty fhould appear not only in his\\nexpreflion, but in his whole manner in his looks, in\\nhis geftures, and in the tone of his voice. Every au-\\ndience is pleafed with thofe marks of refpe\u00c2\u00a3t and awe\\nwhich are paid by the fpeaker. The modefty however\\nof an introduction fhould betray nothing mean or ab-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3t. Together with modefty and deference to his\\nhearers, the orator fhould Ihow a certain fenfe of dig-\\nnity, anting from perfuafion of the juftice or import-\\nance of his fubje\u00c2\u00a3l.\\nParticular cafes excepted, the orator fhould not put\\nforth all his ftrength at the beginning but it fhould\\nrife and grow upon his hearers, as his difcourfe ad-\\nvances. The introduction is feldom the place for ve-\\nhemence and paflion. The audience muft be gradual-\\nly prepared, before the fpeaker venture on ftrong and\\npaffionate fentiments. Yet, when the fubjeet is fuch\\nthat the very mention of it naturally awakens fome\\npaffionate emotion; or when the unexpected pvefence of\\nfome perfon orobjefit in a popular afiembly inflames\\nthe fpeaker either of thefe will juftify an abrupt and\\nvehement exordium. Thus the appearance of Catiline\\nin the fenate renders the violent opening of Cicero s\\nfirft oration againft him very natural and proper.\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci Quoufque tandem, Catalina, abutere patentia nof-\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci tra Biftiop Atterbury preaching fiom this text,\\nu Blefled is he, whofoever (hall not be offended in me,\\nventures on this bold exordium a And can any man\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00acf then be offended in thee, blefled Jefus l Which\\naddrefs to our Saviour he continues, till he enters on\\nthe divifion of his fubjedi. But fuch introductions\\nfhould be attempted by very few, fince tbey promife.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "DIVISION. I\u00c2\u00a3p\\nfo much vehemence and ardour through the reft of\\nthe difcourfe, that it is extremely difficult to fatisfy\\nthe expe ation of the hearers.\\nAn introdu\u00c2\u00a3lion fhould not anticipate any material\\npart of the fubje\u00c2\u00a3t. When topicks or arguments\\nwhich are afterward to be enlarged upon, are hinted at,\\nand in part exhibited in the introduction they lofe,\\nupon their fecond appearance, the grace of novelty.\\nThe impreffion, intended to be made by any capital\\nthought, is always made with greateft advantage, when\\nit is made entire, and in its proper place.\\nAn introduction fhould be proportioned in length\\nand kind to the difcourfe which follows it. In length,\\nas nothing can be more abfurd than to ereft a large\\nportico before a fmall building and in kind, as it is\\nno lefs abfurd to load with fuperb ornaments the\\nportico of a plain dwelling- houfe or to make the ap-\\nproach to a monument as gay as that to an arbour.\\nAfter the introduction, the propofition or enuncia-\\ntion of the fubje\u00c2\u00a3l, commonly fucceeds concerning\\nwhich we (hall only obferve, that it fhould be clear\\nand diftinct, and exprefied without affectation, in the\\nmod concife and fimple manner. To this generally\\nfucceeds the divifion, or laying down the method of\\nthe difcourfe in the management of which the foU\\nlowing rules fhould be carefully obferved.\\nFir it, The parts, into which the fubje\u00c2\u00a3fc is divided,\\nmu ft be really diftinft from each other. It were an\\nabfurd divifion, for example, if a fpeaker mould pro-\\npofe to explain firft the advantages of virtue, and next\\nthofe of juftice or temperance becaufe the firft head\\nplainly comprehends the fecond, as a genus does the\\nfpecies. Such a method of proceeding involves the\\nfubje\u00c2\u00a3t in confufion.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "ids NARRATION OR EXPLICATION.\\nSecondly, We mud be careful always to follow the\\norder of nature beginning with the moll fimple\\npoints with fuch as are molt eafily underflood, and\\nneceflary to be firfl difcufled and proceeding to thofe\\nwhich are built upon the former, and fuppofe them\\nto be known. The fubje\u00c2\u00a3l mull be divided into thofe\\nparts into which it is mod eafily and naturally re-\\nfolved.\\nThirdly, The members of a divifion ought to ex-\\nhaufl the fubje\u00c2\u00a3l otherwife the divifion is incom-\\nplete the fubje\u00c2\u00a3l is exhibited by pieces only, with-\\nout difplaying the whole.\\nFourthly, Let concifenefs and precifion be peculiarly\\nftudied. A divifion always appears to moil advan-\\ntage, when the feveral heads are expreffed in the\\ncleareil, mod forcible, and feweft words poffible.\\nThis never fails to ftrike the hearers agreeably and\\ncontributes alfo to make the divifions more eafily re-\\nmembered.\\nFifthly, Unneceflary multiplication of heads Ihould\\nbe cautioufly avoided. To divide a fubje\u00c2\u00a3t into many\\nminute parts by endlefs divifions and fubdivifions,\\nproduces a bad efFe\u00c2\u00a3t in fpeaking. In a logical treatife\\nthis may be proper but it renders an oration hard and\\ndry, and unneceffarily fatigues the memory. A fer-\\nmoti may admit from three, to five or fix heads,\\nincluding fubdivifions feldom are more allowable.\\nThe next conftituent part of a difcourfe is narra-\\ntion or explication. Thefe two are joined together,\\nbecaufe they fall nearly under the fame rules, and be-\\ncaufe they generally anfwer the fame purpofe ferv-\\ning to illuftrate the caufe, or the fubjefl, of which one\\ntreats, before proceeding to argue on one fide or the", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "NARRATION OR EXPLICATION. l6l\\nother or attempting to intereft the paflions of the\\nhearers.\\nTo be clear and diflincl:, to be probable, and to be\\nconcife, are the qualities which criticks chiefly require\\nin narration. Diftinctnefs is requifite to the whole of\\nthe difcourfe, but belongs efpecially to narration, which\\nought to throw light on all that follows. At the bar,\\na fa\u00c2\u00a3t, or a fingle circumftance, left in obfcurity, or\\nmifunderttood by the judge, may deftroy the effect of\\nall the argument and reafoalng. which the pleader em-\\nploys. If his narration be improbable, it will be dis-\\nregarded if it be tedious and diffufe, it will fatigue\\nand be forgotten. To render narration diftin\u00c2\u00a3t, par*\\nticular attention is requifite in afcertaining clearly the:\\nnames, dates, places, and every other important cir-\\ncumftance of the faclrs recounted; In order to be:\\nprobable in narration, it is neceflary to exhibit the v\\ncharacters of the perfons of whom we fpeak, and to\\nihow that their actions proceeded from fuch motives\\nas are natural, and likely to gain belief. To be as\\nconcife as the fubject will admit, all fuperfluous cir-\\neumfUnces muft be rejected; by which the narration?\\nwill be rendered more forcible and more clean-\\nIn fermons, explication of the fubject to be dif-\\ncourfed on occupies the place of narration at the bar,,\\nand is to be conducted in a fimilar manner. It mud\\nbe concife, clear, and diltinct in a ftyle correct and\\nelegant, rather than highly adorned. To explain the\\ndoftrine of the text with propriety to give a full and.\\nclear account of the nature of that virtue or duty\\nwdiich forms the fubject of difcourfe, is properly the\\ndida\u00c2\u00a3rick part of preaching on the right execution of\\nwhich much depends- In order to fueceed, the-\\nO 2", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "1 62 THE ARGUMENTATIVE PART\\npreacher muft mediate profoundly on the fubjeft fo\\nas to place it in a clear and ftriking point of view.\\nHe muft confider what light it may derive from other\\npaffages of fcripture whether it be a fub|e\u00c2\u00a3l nearly\\nallied to fome other, from which it ought to be dif-\\ntinguifhed whether it can be advantageoufly illuf-\\ntrated by comparing or oppofing it to fome other\\nthing by fearching into caufes, or tracing effects j by\\npointing out examples, or appealing to the hearts of the\\nhearers that thus a precife and circumftantial view\\nmay be afforded of the dofirine inculcated. By dif-\\ntintt and apt illuftrations of the known truths of re-\\nligion, a preacher may both difplay great merit, as a\\ncompofer, and, what is infinitely more valuable, ren-\\n#.r his difcourfes weighty, inftrudlive, and ufeful.\\nTHE ARGUMENTATIVE PART OF A DIS-\\nCOURSE, THE PATHETICK PART, AND\\nTHE PERORATION.\\nJ\\\\.S the great end for which men fpeak on\\nany ferious occafion, is to convince their hearers that\\nfomething is true, or right, or good, and thus to in-\\nfluence their pra\u00c2\u00a3tice reafon and argument muft\\nconftitute the foundation of all manly and perfuafive\\neloquence.\\nWith regard to arguments, three things are requifite,\\nFirft, invention of them fecondly, proper difpofition\\nand arrangement of them and thirdly, expreffing\\nthem in the mod forcible manner. Invention is un-\\ndoubtedly the moil material, and the bafis of the reft.\\nBut in this, art can afford only fmall affiftance. It", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "OF A DISCOURSE. l6j\\ncan aid a fpeaker however in arranging and expreffing\\nthofe arguments which his knowledge of the fubject\\nhas discovered.\\nSuppofing the arguments properly chofen, wemufh\\navoid blending thofe together that are of a feparate\\nnature. All arguments whatever are intended to\\nprove one of thefe three things that fomethrng is\\ntrue that it i$ right or fit or that it is profitable\\nand good. Truth, duty, and intereft are the three\\ngreat fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts of difcuflion among men. But the ar-\\nguments employed upon either of them are generally\\ndiftin\u00c2\u00a3t and he who blends them all under one top-\\nick which he calls his argument, as in fermons is too\\nfrequently done, will render his reafoning indiftindi\\nand inelegant.\\nWith refpe\u00c2\u00a3l to the different degrees of ftrength\\nin arguments, the common rule is, to advance in the\\nway of climax from the weakeft to the moil forcible*\\nThis method is recommended when the fpeaker is\\nconvinced that his caufe is clear, and eafy to be prov-\\ned. But this rule rauft not be univerfally obferved.\\nIf he difrruft his caufe and have but one material ar-\\ngument, it is often proper to place this argument in\\nthe front to prejudice his hearers early in his favour,\\nand thus difpofe them to pay attention to the weaker\\nreafons which he may afterward introduce. When\\namid a variety of arguments there is one or two more\\nfeeble than the reft, though proper to be ufed, Cicero\\nadvifes to place them in the middle, as a fituation lefs\\nconfpicuous, than either the beginning or end of the\\ntrain of reafoning.\\nWhen arguments are ftrong and fatisfacrory,\\nthe more they .are feparated the better. Each can", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "1^4 TH\u00c2\u00a3 PATHETICS PART.\\nthen bear to be introduced alone, placed in its full\\nlight, amplified and contemplated. But, when they\\nare of a doubtful or prefumptive nature, it is fafer to\\ncrowd them together, to form them into a phalanx,\\nthat, though individually weak, they may mutually\\nfupport each other.\\nArguments mould, never be extended too far, nor\\nmultiplied two much. This ferves rather to render a\\ncaufe fufpicious, than to increafe its ftrength. A need-\\nlefs multiplicity of arguments burdens the memory,\\nand diminifhes the weight of that convidHon which a\\nfew well ehofen arguments produce. To expand them\\nalfo beyond the bounds of reasonable illuftration is al-\\nways enfeebling. When a fpeaker endeavours toex-\\npofe a favourable argument in every light poflible, fa-\\ntigued by the effort, he lofes the fpirit, with which he\\nfet out and ends with feeblenefs,, what he began\\nwith force.\\nHaving attended thus far to the proper arrangement\\nef arguments, we proceed to another eflential part of\\na difcourfe, the pathetick in which if any where, elo-\\nquence reigns and exerts its power. On this head\\nthe following directions appear ufeful.\\nConfider carefully whether the fubjecl admit the\\npathetick, and render itproper J and, if it do, what part\\nof the difcourfe is mod fit for it. To determine thefe\\npoints belongs to good fenfe. Many fubje s admit\\nnot the pathetick and even in thofe that are fufcep-\\ntible of it, an attempt to excite the paflions in a wrong\\nplace may expofe an orator to ridicule. It may ia\\ngeneral be obferved, that, if we expert any emotion\\nwhich we raife, to have a lafting effect we mud fe~\\nsure in our favour the understanding and judgments", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "the pathetics: part. l 5$\\nThe hearers mud be fatisfied that there are fufficient\\ngrounds for their engaging in the caufe with zeal and\\nardour. When argument and reafoning have produc-\\ned their full effe the pathetick is admitted with the\\ngreateft force and propriety.\\nA fpeaker fhould cautioufly avoid giving his hearers\\nwarning that he intends to excite their paffions.\\nEvery thing of this kind chills their fenfibility. There\\nis alfo a great difference between telling the hearers\\nthat they ought to be moved, and actually moving\\nthem. To every emotion or paffion nature has adapt-\\ned certain correfponding objects; and without fetting\\nthefe before the mind, it is impoffible for an orator to\\nexcite that emotion. We are warmed with gratitude,\\nwe are touched with companion, not when a fpeaker\\nfhows us that thefe are noble difpofitions, and that it\\nis our duty to feel them 5 nor when he exclaims againfl\\nus for our indifference and coldnefs. Hitherto he ha\u00c2\u00a3\\naddreffed only our reafon or confcience. He muft\\ndefcribe the kindnefs and tendernefs of our fr nd\\nhe muft exhibit the diftrefs fuffered by the perlbn\\nfor whom he would intereft us. Then, and notbefore,\\nour hearts begin to be touched, our gratitude or com-\\npanion begins to flow. The bafis, therefore, of all fuc-\\ncefsfuf execution in pathetick oratory, is to paint the\\nobject of that paffion which we defire toraife, in the\\nmoll natural and (Inking manner to defcribe it with\\nfuch circumftances as are likely to awaken it in the\\nminds of others.\\nTo fucceed in the pathetick, it is neceflary to attend\\nto the proper language of the paffions. This, if we\\nconfult nature, we (hall ever find is unaffected and\\nfimple. It may be animated by bold and ftrong fig~", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "166 THE PER0RATI9N.\\nures, but it will have no ornament, nor finery. There\\nis a great difference between painting to the imagina-\\ntion and to the heart. The one may be done with de-\\nliberation and coolnefs the other muft always be rapid\\nand ardent. In the former, art and labour may be fuf-\\nfered to appear in the latter no proper effecT: can be\\nproduced, unlefs it be the work of nature only. Hence\\nall digrefiions Ihould be avoided which may interrupt\\nor turn a fide the fwell of paffion. Hence comparifons\\nare always dangerous, and commonly quite improper\\nin the midil of the pathetick. It is alfo to be obferved,\\nthat violent emotions cannot be lading. The pathetick\\ntherefore (houldnot be prolonged too much. Due re-\\ngard fhould always be preferved to what the hearers\\nwill bear for he who attempts to carry them farther\\nin paflion than they will follow him, fruflrates his\\npurpofe. By endeavouring to warm them too much,\\nhe takes the fureft method of freezing them com-\\npletely.\\nConcerning the peroration or conclufion of a dif-\\ncourfe, a few words will be fufhcient. Sometimes the\\nwhole pathetick part comes in mod properly at the con-\\nconclufion. Sometimes when the difcourfe has been al-\\ntogether argumentative, it is proper to conclude with\\nfumming up the arguments, placing them in one view,\\nand leaving the impreffion of them full and ftrong on\\nthe minds of the hearers. For the great rule of a\\nconclufion^and what nature obviouily fuggefts,is, place\\nthat laft on which you choofe to reft the ftrength of\\nyour caufe\\nIn every kind of publick fpeaking it is important to\\nhit the precife time of concluding to bring the dif-\\ncourfe juft to a point neither ending abruptly and", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY I $7\\nunexpectedly, nor difappointing the expe ation of\\nthe hearers, when they look for the end of thedifcourfe.\\nThe fpeaker fliould always clofe with dignity and\\nfpirit, that the minds of the hearers may be left warm,\\nand that they may depart with a favourable impreflion\\nof the fubjed and of himfelf.\\nPRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY.\\nX HE great obje s to which every publick\\nfpeaker {hould direct his attention in forming his deliv-\\nery, are, firft, to fpeak fo as to be fully and eafily under-\\nftood by his hearers and next, to exprefs himfelf with\\nfuch grace and energy as to pleafe and to move them.\\nTo be fully and eafily underftood, the chief requisites\\nare, a due degree of loudnefs of voice, diftin nefs,\\nflownefs, and propriety of pronunciation.\\nTo be heard is undoubtedly the firft requifite. The\\nfpeaker rruft endeavour to fill with his voiee the fpace\\noccupied by the aflembly. Though this power ofvoice\\nis in a great meafure a natural talent, it may receive\\nconfiderable aflS fiance from art Much depends on the\\nproper pitch and management of the voice. Every man\\nhas three pitches in his voice the high, the mid-\\ndle, and the low. The high is ufed in calling aloud to\\niome one at a diiiance the low approaches to a whif-\\nper the middle is that which is employed in common\\nconverfation, and which fliould generally be ufed in\\npublick ipeakirg. For it is a great error to fuppofe\\nthat the higheft pit h of the voice is requifite to be well\\nheard by a great aflembly. This is confounding tw r o", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "1 68 PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY.\\nthings materially different, loudnefs or ftrength of found\\nwith the key or note on which we fpeak. The voice\\nmay be rendered louder without altering the key and\\nthe fpeaker will always be able to give moft body, moil\\nperfevering force of found, to that pitch of voice to\\nwhich inconverfation he is accuftomed. Whereas, if\\nhe begin on the higheft key he will fatigue himfelf and\\nfpeak with pain and, wherever a man fpeaks with pain\\nto himfelf, he is always heard with pain by his audience.\\nGive the voice therefore full ftrength and fwell of found\\nbut always pitch it on your ordinary fpeaking key a\\ngreater quantity of voice (hould never be uttered than\\ncan be afforded without pain, and without any extraor-\\ndinary effort. To be well heard, it is ufeful for a\\nfpeaker to fix his eye on fome of the moft diilant per-\\nfons in the affembly, and to confider himfelf as fpeak-\\ning to them. We naturally and mechanically utter\\nour words with fuch ftrength, as to be heard by one\\nto whom we addrefs ourfelves, provided he be within\\nthe reach of our voice. This is the cafe inpublick fpeak-\\ning, as well as in common converfation. But it muft\\nbe remembered, that fpeaking too loudly is peculiarly\\noffenfive. The ear is wounded when the voice comes\\nupon it in rumbling, indiftindl maffes befide, it ap-\\npears as if affent were demanded by mere vehemence\\nand force of found.\\nTo being well heard and clearly underftood, diftinifi-\\nnefs of articulation is more conducive, perhaps, than\\nmere loudnefs of found. The quantity of found requi-\\nfite to fill even a large fpace, is iefs than is commonly\\nfuppofed with difti articulation a man of a\\nweak voice will m; ;c! further than the itrong-\\neft voice canrea.: ut it. This therefore demands", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. \\\\6(f\\npeculiar attention. The fpeaker muft give every found\\nits due proportion, and make every fyllable, and even\\nevery letter, be heard diftin ly. To fucceed in this,\\nrapidity of pronunciation muft be avoided. A lifelefs\\ndrawling method, however, is not to be indulged. To\\npronounce with a proper degree of flownefs and with\\nfull and clear articulation cannot be too induftrioufly\\nftudied, nor too earneftly recommended. Such pronun-\\nciation gives weight and dignity to a difcourfe. It affifts\\nthe voice by the paufes and refts which it allows it\\nmore eafily to make; and it enables the fpeaker to\\nfwell all his founds with more energy and more mufick.\\nIt affifts him alfo in preferving a due command of\\nhimfelf whereas a rapid and hurried manner excites\\nthat flutter Gf fpirits which is the greateft enemy to\\nall right execution in oratory.\\nTo propriety of pronunciation nothing is more con-\\nducive than giving to every word which we utter,\\nthat found which the mod polite ufage appropriates to\\nit, in oppofition to broad, vulgar, or provincial pronun-\\nciation. On this fubje\u00c2\u00a3t, however, written inftru ions\\navail nothing. But there is one obfervation which it\\nmay be ufeful to make. In our language every word\\nof more fyllables than one, has one accented fyllable*\\nThe genius of the language requires the voice to mark\\nthat fyllable by a ftronger percuffion, and to pafs more\\n{lightly over the reft. The fame accent mould be given\\nto every word in publick fpeaking and in common dif-\\ncourfe. Many perfons err in this refpedt. When they\\nfpeak in publick and with folemnity, they pronounce dif-\\nferently from what they do at other times. They dwell\\nupon fyllables, and protraft them they multiply ac-\\ncents on the fame word, from a falfe idea that it gives\\np", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "1 7\u00c2\u00a9 PRONUNCIATION OPw DELITERY.\\ngravity and force to their difcourfe, and increafes thf\\npomp of publick declamation. But this is one of the\\ngreateft faults which can be committed in pronuncia-\\ntion it conftitutes what is termed a theatrical or\\nmouthing manner, and gives an artificial, affected air\\nto fpeech, which detracts greatly from its agreeable\\nyefs and its impreffion.\\nWe (hall now treat of thofe higher parts of delivery,\\nby Undying which a fpeaker endeavours not merely to\\nrender hirnfelf intelligible, but to give grace and force\\nto what he utters. Thefe may be comprehended under\\nfour heads, emphafis, paufes, tones, and geftures.\\nBy emphafis is meant a fuller and ftronger found of\\nvoice, by which we diftinguifh the accented fyllable of\\nfome word, on which we intend to lay particular\\nftrefs, and to (how how it affects the reft of the fen-\\ntence. To acquire the proper management of empha-\\nfis, the only rule is, fludyto acquire ajuft conception\\nof the force and fpirit of thofe fentiments which you\\nlire to deliver. In all prepared difcourfes it would\\nbe extremely ufeful if they were read over or re-\\nhearfed in private, with a view of ascertaining the\\nproper emphafis, before they were pronouncedin pub-\\nlick marking at the fame time the emphatical word*\\nIn every fentence, or at lead in the moil important\\nparts of the difcourfe, and fixing them well in memory.\\nA caution, however, muft be given againft multiplying\\nemphatical words too much. They become {inking,\\nonly when ufed with prudent xeferve. If they recur\\ntoo frequently if a fpeaker attempt to render every\\nthing which he fays of high importance, by a multi-\\ntude of ftrong emphafes, they will foon fail to excit*\\nthe attention of his hearers.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. 1/1\\nNext to emphafis, paufes demand attention. They\\nare of two kinds fir ft, emphatical paufes and fee-\\nondiy, fuch as mark the diftin\u00c2\u00a3iions of fenfe. An\\nemphatical paufe is made after fomething has been\\nfaid of peculiar moment, on which we with to fix\\nthe hearer s attention. Sometimes a matter of im-\\nportance is preceded by a paufe of this nature. Such\\npaufes have the fame effect with ftrong emphafes,\\nand are fubject to the fame rules efpecially to the\\ncaution juft now given, of not repeating them too\\nfrequently. For, as they excite uncommon attention\\nand confequently raife expectation, if this be not fully\\nanfwered, they occafion difappointment and difguft.\\nBut the moil frequent and the principal ufe of paufes\\nis, to mark the divifions of the fenfe, and at the fame!\\ntime to permit the fpeaker to draw his bre^tli and\\nthe proper management of fuch paufes is one of the\\nmoft nice and difficult articles in delivery. A proper\\ncommand of the breath is peculiarly requifite. To\\nobtain this, every fpeaker fhould be very careful to\\nprovide a full fupply of breath for what he is to utter.\\nIt is a great miftake to fuppofe that the breath muft\\nbe drawn only at the end of a period, when the voice\\nis allowed to fall. It may eafily be gathered at the\\nintervals of a period when the voice fuffers only a\\nmomentary fufpenfion. By this management a fuffi-\\ncient fupply may be obtained for carrying on the\\niongeit period without improper interruptions.\\nPaufes in publick difcourfe muft be formed upon the\\nmanner in which we exprefs ourfelves in fenfible con-\\nverfation, and not upon the ftiff, artificial manner,\\nwhich we acquire from perufing books according to\\ncommon punctuation. Punctuation in general is very", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "172 PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY.\\narbitrary often capricious and falfe diclafing a uni=\u00c2\u00bb\\nformity of tone in the paufes, which is extremely un-\\npieafmg. For it muft be obferved, that, to render\\npaufes graceful and expreffive they muft not only be\\nmade in the right places, but alfo be accompanied by\\nproper tones of voice by which the nature of thefe\\npaufes is intimated much, more than by their length,\\nwhich can never be exaclly meafured. Sometimes on-\\nly a flight and fimple fufpenfion of the voice is proper j\\nfometimes a degree of cadence is requifite and fome-\\ntimes that peculiar tone and cadence which mark the\\nconclufion of a period. In all thefe cafes, a fpeaker is\\nto regulate himfelf by the manner in which he fpeaks,\\nwhen engaged in earned difcourfe with others.\\nIn reading or reciting verfe, there is a peculiar diffi-\\nculty in making the paufes with propriety. There\\nare two kinds of paufes, which belong to the mufickof\\nverfe one at the end of a line, and the other in the\\nmiddle of it. Rhyme always renders the former fend-\\nble, and compels obfervance of it in pronunciation.\\nin blank verfe it is lefs perceivable and when there\\nis no fufpenfion of the fenfe, it has been doubted,\\nwhether in reading fuch verfe any regard fhould be\\npaid to the clofe of a line. On the ftage, indeed,\\nwhere the appearance of fpeaking in verfe fhould be\\navoided^ the clofe of fuch lines as make no paufe in\\ntie fenfe fhould not be rendered perceptible to the ear.\\nOn other occasions we ought, for the fake of melody,\\nro read blank verfe in fuch manner as to make each\\nline fenfible to the ear. In attempting this, however,\\nevery appearance of fing-fong and tone muft be cau-\\nucufiy avoided. The clofe of a line, where there is\\nno paufe in the meaning, fhould be marked only by", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. 1 73\\nto flight a fufpenfion of found, as may diftinguifh the\\npaflage from one line to another, without injuring the\\nfenfe.\\nThe paufe in the middle of the line falls after the\\n4th, 5th, 6th, or 7th fyllable, and no other. When\\nthis paufe coincides with the flighted divifion in the\\nfenfe, the line may be read with eafe as in the two\\nfirlt verfes of Pope s Meffiah\\nYe nymphs of Solyma, begin the fong,\\nTo heavenly themes fublimer ftrains belong.\\nBut if words, that have fo intimate a connexion,\\nas not to admit even a momentary feparation, be divid-\\ned from each other by this csefural paufe we then\\nperceive a conflict between the fenfe and found,\\nwhich renders it difficult to readfuch lines gracefully.\\nIn fuch cafes it is beft to facrifice found to fenfe.\\nFor infiance, in the following lines ef Milton:\\nWhat in me is dark,\\nIllumine; what is low, raife and fupport.\\nThe fenfe clearly dictates the paufe after illumine,\\nwhich ought to be obferved though, if melody only\\nwere to be, regarded, illumine fhould be connected\\nwith what follows, and no paufe made before the 4th\\nor 6th fyllable. So alfo in the following line of Pope s\\nEpiftle to Arbuthnot\\nI iii; with- fad civility I read.\\nThe ear points out the paufe as falling after W fad,\\nthe fourth fyllable. But to feparate fad and\\ncivility would be very bad reading. The fenfe al-\\nlows no other paufe than after the fecond fyllable,\\nif fit j which therefore is the only otie to b\u00c2\u00bb: obfezved.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "174 PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY.\\njWe proceed to treat of tones in pronunciation\\n%TOnch are different both from emphafes and paufes 5\\nconfiding in the modulation of the voice, the notes or\\nvariations of found which are employed in publick\\nfpeaking. The mod material inftrutStion which can\\nbe given on this fubje\u00c2\u00a3t r is to form the tones of pub-\\nlick fpeaking upon the tones of animated converfation.\\nEvery one who is engaged in fpeaking on a fubjecV\\nwhich interefts- him- nearly, has an eloquent or per-\\nfuafive tone and manner. But, when a fpeaker de-\\nparts from his natural tone of ex predion, he becomes\\nfrigid and unperfuafive. Nothing is more abfurd\\nthan to fuppofe that as foon as a fpeaker afc^nds a\\npulpit, or rifes in a publick affembly, he is inftantly to\\nlay afide the voice with which he expreffes himfelf in\\nprivate, and to affume a new, ft u died tone, and a cadence\\naltogether different from his natural manner. This\\nhas vitiated all delivery, and has given rife to cant and\\ntedious monotony. Let every publick fpeaker guard\\nagainft this error. Whether he fpeak in private, or\\nin a great affembly, let him remember that he ftilL\\ni peaks. Let him take nature for his guide, and {he\\nwill teach him to exprefs his fentiments and feelings\\nin fuch manner, as to make the mod forcible and:\\npleafing impreffion upon the minds of his hearers..\\nIt now remains to treat of gefture, or what is call-\\ned act ion in publick. difcourfe. The beft rule is, at-\\ntend to the looks and gefture in which earnednefs,\\nindignation, compaffion, or any other emotion, difcov\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\ners itfelf to moil advantage in the common intercourfe\\n\u00c2\u00a9f men and let thefe be your model. A publick\\nfpeaker mud, however, adopt that manner which is\\nmod natural to himfelf. tlis motions and geduros", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "PRONUNCIATION OR BELTVEltY. fjfi;\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2ught all to exhibit that kind of expreffion which na-\\nture has di ated to him and, unlefs this be the\\ncafe, no ftudy can prevent their appearing, ftiffi and\\nforced. But, though nature is the bafis on whiclr\\nevery grace of gefture mufl be founded^yet there is\\nroom for fome improvements of art. The ftudy of\\naction confifts chiefly in guarding againft awkward\\nand difagreeable motions, and in learning to perform\\nfiich as are natural to the fpeaker, in the mod grace-\\nful manner. Numerous are the rules which writers\\nhave laid down for the attainment of a proper geiiicu-\\nlation. But written inftrutlions on this fubjecT: can be\\nof little fervice. To become ufeful, they mud be ex-\\nemplified. A few of the fimpleft precepts,. however,,\\nmay be obferved with advantage,- Every fpeaker\\nfhould ftudy to prefer ve as much dignity as poffibfe\\nin the attitude of his body. He fhould generally pre-\\nfer an erect pofture; his pofition fhould be firm,\\nthat he may have the fulleft and freeft command of\\nall his motions* If any inclination be ufed, it fhould\\nbe toward the hearers, which is a natural expreffion-\\nof earneftnefs. The countenance fhould correfpond;\\nwith the nature of the difcourfe and, when no par-\\nticular emotion is exprefled, a ferious and manly look:\\nis always to be preferred. The eyes fhould never be fix-\\ned entirely on any one object, but move eafily round the-\\naudience. In motion, made with the hands, confifts\\nthe principal part of gefture in fpeaking. It. is natur-\\nal for the right hand- to be employed more frequently\\nthan the left. Warm emotions require the exercife\\nof them both together. But, whether a fpeaker gefticu*\\nlate with one, or with both his hands, it is important:\\nthat all his motions be eafy and unred rained, N33*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "l*]6 MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE.\\nrow and confined movements are ufually ungraceful\\nand confequently motions made with the hands,\\nftiould proceed from the flioulder, rather than from\\nthe elbow. Perpendicular movements are to be avoid-\\ned. Oblique motions are mod pleafing and grace-\\nful. Sudden and rapid motions are feldom good.\\nEarnednefs can be fully exprefled without their af-\\nfiftance.\\nWe cannot conclude this fubjeft without earneftly\\nadmonifhing every fpeaker to guard againft affecta-\\ntion, which is the dedru\u00c2\u00a3Uon of good delivery. Let\\nhis manner, whatever it be, be his own neither imi-\\ntated from another, nor taken from fome imaginary\\nmodel, which is unnatural to him. Whatever is na-\\ntive, though attended by feveral defeats, is likely to\\npleafe, becaufe it {hows us the man and bocaufe it\\nlias the appearance of proceeding from the heart. To\\nattain a delivery extremely correct and graceful, is\\nwhat few can expedt fince fo many natural talents\\nmuft concur in its formation. But to acquire a\\nforcible and perfuafive manner, is within the power of\\nmoft perfons. They need only to difmifs bad habits,\\nfollow nature, and fpeak in publick as they do in\\nprivate, when they fpeak in earned ari3 from the heart-\\nMEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE\\nX O thofe who are anxious to excel in any of\\nthe higher kinds of oratory, nothing is more necelTary\\nthan to cultivate habits of the feveral virtues, and to\\nrefine and improve their moral feelings. A true ora-\\ntor mud poffefs generous fentimeius, warm feel-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "6eans of improving in eloquence. I7f\\nings, and a mind turned toward admiration of\\nthofe great and high objects which men are by nature\\nformed to venerate. Connected with the manly vir-\\ntues, he fhould poffefs ftrong and tender fenPibility to\\nall the injuries, diftreffes, and fbrrows of his fellow-\\ncreatures.\\nNext to moral qualifications, what is mod requifite\\nfor an orator, is a fund of knowledge. There is no\\nart by which eloquence can be taught in any fphere,\\nwithout a fufficient acquaintance with what belongs to\\nthat fphere. Attention to the ornaments of ftyle can\\nonly affiil an orator in fetting off to advantage the\\nftock of materials which he pofleffes but the mate-\\nrials themfeives rnuft be derived from other fources\\nthan from rhetorick. A pleader mud make himfelf\\ncompletely acquainted with the law he muft poffefs\\nall that learning and experience which can be ufeful\\nfor fupporting a caufe, or convincing a judge. A\\npreacher muft apply himfelf clofely to the ftudy of\\ndivinity, of practical religion, of morals and of hu-\\nman nature that he may be rich in all tcpicks of in-\\nftruflion and perfuafion. He who v/ifhes to excel in\\nthe fupreme council of the nation, or in any publick af-\\nfembly, {hould be thoroughly acquainted with the\\nbufmefs that belongs to fuch affembly and fnould at-\\ntend with accuracy to all the fadls which may be the\\nfubjedt of queftion or deliberation.\\nBefide the knowledge peculiar to his profeffion, a\\npublick fpeaker (hould be acquainted with the general\\ncircle of polite literature: Poetry he will find ufeful\\nfor embellifhing his ftyle, for fuggefting lively images,\\nor pleafing illuficns Iiiory may be (till more ad-\\nvantageous j as the knowledge of fa\u00c2\u00a3ts, of eminent", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "TJ*. M ANS OF IMPROVING Itf ELOQUENCE.\\ncharacters, and of the courfe of human affairs, finds\\nplace on many occafions. Deficiency of knowledge\\neven in fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts not immediately connected with his\\nprofeflion, will expofe a puhlick fpeaker to many di fad-\\nvantages, and give his rivals, who ate better qualified,\\na decided fuperiority.\\nTo every one who wifhes to excel in eloquence,\\napplication and indultry cannot be too much recom-\\nmended. Without this it is impofiible to excel in\\nany thing. No one ever became a diitinguifned plead-\\ner, or preacher, or fpeaker in any aflembly, without\\nprevious labour and application. Induflry indeed is\\nnot only neceffary to every valuable acq-uifition, but\\nit is defigned by Providence as the feafoning of every\\npleafure, without which life is doomed to languifh.\\nNo enemy is fo deitrudive both to honourable attain-\\nments, an I to the real and fpirited enjoyments of life,\\nas that relaxed ftate of mind, which proceeds from\\nindolence and diflipation. He who is deftined to\\nexcel in any art will be diftinguifhed by enthufiafm\\nfor that art j which, firing his mind with the obje fc\\nin view, will difpofe him to reliih every neceffary la-\\nbour. This was the characreriilick of the great men\\nof antiquity and this mud diftinguifh moderns who\\nwiQi to imitate them. This honourable enthufiafm\\nfhould be cultivated by ftudents in oratory. If it be\\nwanting to youth, manhood will (lag exceedingly.\\nAttention to the beft models contributes greatly tb\\nimprovement in the arts 5 of fpeaking and writing.\\nEvery one indeed fliould endeavour to have fomething\\nthat is his own, that is peculiar to himfelf, and will\\ndiftinguifh his ftyle. Genius is certainly depreffed, or\\nWajit of it betrayed, by flavifh imitation. Yet nm", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": ",MMNS OF IMPROVIKG IN ELOQUENCE. 1^\\ngenius is fo original, as not to receive improvement\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2from proper examples in ftyle, compofition, and de-\\nlivery. They always afford fome new ideas, and fervc\\nto enlarge and correft our own. They quicken the\\ncurrent of thought 2nd excite emulation.\\nIn imitating the ftyle of a favourite author, a mate-\\nrial diftin\u00c2\u00a3tion fhould be obferved between written and\\nfpoken language. Thefe are in reality two different\\nmodes of communicating ideas. In books we expect\\ncorre\u00c2\u00a3inefs, precifion, all redundancies pruned, all\\nrepetitions avoided, language completely polifhed.\\nSpeaking allows a more eafy, copious ftyle, and lefs\\nconfined by rule repetitions may often be requifite\\nparenthefes may fometimes be ornamental the fame\\nthought mud often be placed in different points of\\nview; fmce the hearers can catch it only from the mouth\\nof the fpeaker, and have not the opportunity, as in\\nreading, of turning back again, and of contemplating\\nwhat they clq not entirely comprehend. Hence the\\nftyle of many good authors would appear ftiff, affect-\\ned, and even obfeure, if transferred into a popular o-\\nration. How unnatural, for inftarice, would Lord\\nShaftefbury s fentences found in the mouth of a pub-\\nlick fpeaker Some kinds of publick difcourfe indeed,\\nfuch as that of the pulpit, where more accurate prep-\\naration and more ftudied ftyle are allowable, would\\nadmit fuch a manner better than others, which are\\nexpecled to approach nearer to extemporaneous /peak-\\ning. But fiiil there is generally fuch a difference be-\\ntween a compofition, intended only to be read, and\\none proper to be fpoken, as fhould caution us againft\\na clpfe and improper imitation.\\nThe compofition of fome authors approaches near-\\ner to the ftyle of fpeaking than that of others, ani", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": ",lSo MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE.\\nthey may therefore be imitated with more fafety. In\\nour own language, Swift and Bolingbroke are of this\\ndefcription. The former, though correal, preserves\\nthe eafy and natural manner of an unaffected fpeaker.\\nThe ftyle of the latter is more fplendid but ftill it is\\nr the ftyle of fpeaking, or rather of declamation.\\nFrequent exercife both in compofing and fpeaking is\\na neceffary mean of improvement. That kind of com*\\npofition is moil: ufeful which is connected with the\\nprofefiion, or fort of publick fpeaking, to which per*\\nfons devote themfelves. This they (hould ever keep\\nin view, and gradually inure themfelves to it. At the\\nfame time they (hould be cautious not to allow them-\\nfelves to compofe negligently on any pccafion. He\\nwho w T ifhes to write or fpeak correctly, {hould in the\\nmoll trivial kind of compofition, in writing a letter,\\nor even in common converfation, ftudy to exprefs\\nhimfelf with propriety. By this we do not mean that\\nhe is never to write or fpeak, but in elaborate and ar-\\ntificial language. This would introduce ftiffnefs ?md\\naffectation, infinitely worfe j^an the greatefl: negli-\\ngence. But we muft obferye, that there is in every\\nthing a proper and becoming manner and on the\\ncontrary, there is alio an awkward performance of the\\nfame thing. The becoming manner is often the mod\\nlight, and feemingly moil carelefs but tafle and at-\\ntention are requiate to feise the juft idea of it. That\\nidea, when acquired, (hould be kept in view, and up-\\non it (hould be formed, whatever we write or fpeak.\\nExercifes in fpeaking have always been recommend-\\ned to (Indents and, when undejr proper regulation,\\nmuft be of great ufe. Thofe publick and promifcuou$\\nfociedes in which numbers are brought together who", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQJCJENCE. l8l\\nare frequently of low ftations and occupations who\\nare connected by no common bond of union, except\\na ridiculous rage for pubiick fpeaking, and have no\\nother obje\u00c2\u00a3l in view than to exhibit their fuppofed\\ntalents are inftitutions not only ufelefs, but injuri-\\nous. They are calculated to become feminaries of\\n-licentioufnefs, petulance, and faction. Even the al-\\nlowable meetings into which ftudents of oratory may\\nform themfelves, need direction in order to render\\nthem ufeful. If their fuhjedls of diicourie be improp-\\nerly chofen; if theyfupport extravagant or indecent\\nicks if they indulge themfelves inloofe and fiimfy dec-\\nlamation or accuftom themfelves without preparation\\nto fpeak pertly on all fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts, they will unavoidably\\nacquire a very faulty and vicious tafte in fpeak\\nIt (hould therefore be recommended to all thofe who\\nare members of fuch focieties,to attend to the choice of\\ntheir fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts to take care that they be ufeful and\\nmanly, either connected with the courfe of their (Ind-\\nies, or related to morals and tafte, to aflion and life.\\nThey (hould alfo be temperate in the pra\u00c2\u00a3Uce of\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0fpeaking not to fpeak too often* nor on fubjefts of\\nwhich they are ignorant, but only when they have\\nproper materials for a difcourfe, and have previoufly\\nconfidered and digefted the fubjech In fpeaking they\\nfhould be cautious always to keep good fenfe and\\nperfuafion in view, rather than a (how of eloquence.\\nBy thefe means they will gradually form themfelvas\\nto a manly, correct, and perfuaiive manner of fpeaking.\\nIt may now be aiked of what ufe will the ft.udy of\\ncritical and rhetorical writers be to thofe who wifh to\\nexcel in eloquence They certainly ought not to be\\nneglected and yet perhaps very much cannot be e$-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "i$2 MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE.\\npeeled from them. It is, however, from the original\\nancient writers that the greateft advantage may be\\nderived and it is a difgrace to any one, whofe pro-\\nfeflion calls him to fpeak in publick, to be unacquaint-\\ned with them. In all the ancient rhetorical writers\\nthere is indeed one defect they are too fyftematic-\\nal. They aim at doing too much at reducing\\nrhetorick to a perfedi art, which may even fupply in-\\nvention with materials on every fubje\u00c2\u00a3t fo that one\\nwould fuppofe they expe ed to form an orator by\\nrule, as they would form a carpenter. But in reality\\nall that can be done is to affift and enlighten tafte,\\nand to point out to genius the courfe it ought to hold.\\nAriftotle was the firft who took rhetorick out of\\nthe hands of the fophifts, and founded it on reafon\\nand folid fenfe. Some of the profoundeft obfervations,\\nwhich have been made on the paffions and manners\\nof men, are to be found in his Treatife on Rhetorick\\nthough in this, as in all his writings, his great concifenefs\\noften renders him obfeure. The Greek rhetoricians\\nwho fucceeded him, moft of whom are now loft, im-\\nproved on his foundation. Two of them ftill remain,\\nDemetrius Phalerius, and Dionyfms of Halicarnaffus.\\nBoth wrote on the conftruftion of fentences, and de-\\nferve to be confulted particularly Dionyfius, who is a\\nvery accurate and judicious critick.\\nTo recommend the rhetorical writings of Cicero is\\nfuperfluous. Whatever on the fubjed of eloquence\\nis fuggelted by fo great an orator, muft be worthy of\\nattention. His moft extenfive work on this fubje\u00c2\u00a3l is\\nthat De Oratore. None of his writings are more\\nhighly Enifhed than this treatife* The dialogue is\\npolite the characters are well fupported, and the", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "eoMPARISONOF THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 183\\nmanagement of the whole is beautiful and pieafing.\\nThe Orator ad M. Brutum is alfo a valuable treatife\\nand indeed through all Cicero s rhetorical works are\\ndifplayed thofe fublime ideas of eloquence, which are\\ncalculated to form a j.uft taile, and to infpire that en*\\nthufiafm for the art, which is highly conducive to ex-\\ncellence.\\nBut of all ancient writers on the fubje\u00c2\u00a3l of oratory\\nthe moft inilruclive and molt ufefui is Quintilian..\\nHis inftitutions abound with good fenfe, and difcover\\na tafte in the higheft degree juft and. accurate. AU\\nmoft all the principles of good ctiticifm are found in\\nthem. He has well digefted the ancient ideas concern-\\ning rhetorick, and has delivered his inPcruftions in ele*\\ngant and poliihed language.\\nCOMPARATIVE MERIT OF THE ANCIENTS\\nAND MODERNS.\\nJ\\\\. VERY curious queftion has been agitated\\nwith regard to the comparative merit of the ancients\\nand moderns. In France, this difpute was carried on\\nwith great heat between Boileau and Madame Dacier\\nfor the ancients, and Perrault and La Motte for the\\nmoderns. Even at this day, men of letters are divided\\non the fubject. A few reflections upon it may be\\nufeful.\\nTo decry the ancient clafficks is a vain attempt*\\nTheir reputation is eftablifhed upon too folid a found-\\ndation to be fhaken-. Imperfections may be traced in\\ntheir writings but to difcredit their works in general\\nean belong only to peeviftmefs or prejudice. The", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "^$4 COMPARISON OF THE\\napprobation of the puhlick through fo many centuries\\neftablifhes a verdi\u00c2\u00a3i in their favour, from which there\\nis no appeal.\\nIn matters of mere reafoning, the world may be\\nlong in errors and fyftems of philofophy often have a\\ncurrency for a time, and then die. But in obje s of\\ntafle there Is no fuch fallibility as they depend not\\non knowledge and fcience, but upon fentiment and\\nfeeling. Now the univerfal feeling of mankind mud\\nbe right Homer and Virgil therefore muft continue\\nto ftand upon the fame ground which they have fo\\nlong occupied.\\nLet us guard however aggtuft blind veneration for\\nthe ancients, -\\\\n6 inftitttie n fair m urn .between\\nthem and the moderns, If the v had the pre*\\neminence in genius, yet the moderns muft have Tome\\nadvar all arts which are improved by the mU\\nferal progrefs of knowledge,\\nHence in natural philofophy, afironomy, chymiftry^..\\nand other fciences, which reft upon obfervation of fads\\nthe moderns have a decided fuperiority over the an-\\ncients. Perhaps too in preqife reafoning, .philofopherS-\\nof modern ages are fuperiour to thofe of ancient times\\nas a more extenfive literary intercourfe has contributed\\nto fharpen the faculties of men. The moderns have\\nalfo the fuperiority in hiftory and in political knowU\\nedge 5 owing to the extenfion of commerce, the dif-\\ncovery of different countries, the fuperiour facility of\\nintercourfe, and the multiplicity of events and revolu-\\ntions which have taken place in the world. In po*\\netry likewife fome advantages have been gained in\\npoint of regularity and accuracy. In dramatick per-\\nformances, improvements have certainly been mads", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 1 85\\nupon the ancient models. The variety of chara ers\\nis greater greater (kill has been diiplayed in the con-\\nduct of the plot and a happier attention to probabil-\\nity and decorum. Among the ancients we find high-\\ner conceptions, greater fimplicity, and more original\\nfancy. Among the moderns there is more of art and\\ncorre\u00c2\u00a3tnefs, butlefs genius. But though this remark\\nmay in general be juft, there are fome exceptions\\nfrom it Milton and Shakefpeare are inferiour to no\\npoets in any age.\\nAmong the ancients were many circumftances fa-\\nvourable to the exertions of genius. They travelled\\nmuch in fearch of learning, and converfed with priefts,\\npoets, and phiiofophers. They returned home full\\nof difcoveries, and fired by uncommon objects. Their\\nenthufiafm was greater and few being ftimulated to\\nexcel as authors, their fame was more intenfe and\\nflattering. In modern times good writing is lefs priz-\\ned. We write with lefs effort. Printing has fo mul-\\ntiplied books, that affiftance is eafily procured. Hence\\nmediocrity of genius prevails. To rife beyond this,\\nand to foar above the crowd, is given to few.\\nIn epick poetry, Homer and Virgil are (till unrivalled;\\nand orators, equal to Demofthenes and Cicero, we\\nhave none. In hifiory, we have no modern narration\\nfo elegant, fo picturefque, fo animated, and intereftirig,\\nas thofe of Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Livy,\\nTacitus and Salluft. Our dramas, with all their im-\\nprovements, are inferiour in poetry and fent intent to\\nthofe of Sophocles and Euripides. We have no comic\\ndialogue that equals the correct, graceful, and elegant\\nfimplicity of Terence. The elegies of Tibutius, the\\npaftorals of Theocritus,and thelyrick poetry of Horace^", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "ig^ HISTORICAL WRITING.\\nare ftill unrivalled. By thofe, therefore* who wifii to\\nform their tafte, and nourifh their genius, the utmoil\\nattention mud be paid to the ancient clafficks, both\\nGreek and Roman.\\nAfter thefe refieftions on the ancients and moderns,,\\nwe proceed to a critical examination of the mod dif-\\ntinguifhed kinds of compofition, and of the charafters\\nof thofe writers, whether ancient or modern, who\\nhave excelled in them. Of orations and publick dif-\\ncourfes much has already been Said. The remaining\\nprofe compofitions may be divided into hiftorical writ-\\ning, philosophical writing, epiftolary writing, and fic-\\ntitious hiftory.\\nHISTORICAL WRITING.\\nH.\\nLISTORY is a record of truth for the instruc-\\ntion of mankind. Hence the great requifites in a hi\\ntorian are impartiality, fidelity, and accuracy.\\nIn the conduft of hiftorical detail the firft obje\u00c2\u00a3t of\\nahiftorian Should be, to give his work all poffible\\nunity. Hiftory {hould not confift of unconnected\\nparts. Its portions fhould be united by fome connect-\\ning principle, which will produce in the mind an im-\\npreffion of Something that is one, whole and entire*\\nPolybius, though not an elegant writer, is remarkable\\nfor this quality.\\nA hiftorian (hould trace a\u00c2\u00a3Uons and events to their\\nSources. He (hould therefore be well acquainted with\\nhuman nature and politicks. His (kill in the former\\nwill enable him to defcribe the chara ers of individu-\\nals and his knowledge of the latter to account for", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "HISTORICAL WRITING. 1 87\\nthe revolutions of government, and the operation of\\npolitical caufes on pubiick affairs. With regard to po-\\nlitical knowledge, the ancients wanted fome advantages\\nwhich are enjoyed by the moderns. In ancient times\\nthere was lefs communication among neighbouring\\nftates 1 no intercourfe by eftablifhed polls, nor by am-\\nbafladors at diftant courts. Larger experience too of\\nthe different modes of government has improved the\\nmodern hiftorian beyond the hiftorian of antiquity.\\nIt is however in the form of narrative, and not by\\ndiflfertation, that the hiftorian is to impart his political\\nknowledge. Formal difcufiions expofe him to fufpi-\\ncion of being willing to accommodate his fafts to his\\ntheory. They have alfo an air of pedantry, and evi-\\ndently refult from want of art. For reflections*\\nwhether moral, political, or philofophical, may be infin-\\nuated in the body of a narrative.\\nClearnefs, order, and connexion are primary virtues\\nin hiftorical narration. Thefe are attained when the\\nhiftorian is complete matter of his fubjeft can fee the^\\nwhole at one view and comprehend the dependence\\nof all its parts. Hiftory being a dignified fpecies of\\ncompofition, it fhould alfo be confpicuous for gravity.\\nThere fhould be nothing mean nor vulgar in the\\nftyle j no quaintnefs, no fmartnefs, no affefitation, na\\nwit. A hiftory fhould likewife be interefting and\\nthis is the quality which chiefly diftinguifhes a writer\\nof genius and eloquence.\\nTo be interefting, a hiftorian muft preferve a medi-\\num between rapid recital and prolix detail He fhould\\nknow when to be concife, and when to enlarge. He\\nfhould make a proper fele\u00c2\u00a3tion of circumftances.\\nThefe give life, body, and colouring to his narration*\\nThey conftitute what is termed hiftorical painting.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "lS HISTORICAL WRITING.\\nIn all thefe virtues of narration, particularly in pio\\nturefque defcription, the ancients eminently excel.\\nHence the pleafure of reading Thucydides, Livy, Sal-\\nluft, and Tacitus* In hiftorical painting there are\\ngreat varieties. Livy and Tacitus paint in very dif-\\nferent ways. The defcriptions of Livy are full, plain,\\nand natural thofe of Tacitus are fliort and bold.\\nOne embellifhment, which the moderns have laid a-\\nfide, was employed by the ancients. They put ora-\\ntions into the mouths of celebrated perfonages. By\\nthefe, they diverfified their hiftory, and conveyed\\nboth moral and political inftru ion, Thucydides\\nwas the firft who adopted this method and the\\norations with which his hiilory abounds, are valuable\\nremains of antiquity. It is doubtful, however, wheth-\\ner this embellifhment fhould be allowed to the hiftori-\\nan for they form a mixture, unnatural to hiftory, of\\ntruth and fiction. The moderns are more chafte when\\non great occafions the hiftorian delivers in his own\\n^trfon thefentiments andreafonings of oppofite parties.\\nAnother fplendid embellifhment of hiftory is the\\ndelineation of chara\u00c2\u00a3ters. Thefe are confidered as\\nexhibitons of fine writing; and hence the difficulty\\nof excelling in this province. For chara ers may be\\ntoo Alining and laboured. The accomplifhed hiftori-\\nan avoids here to dazzle too much. He isfolicitous\\nto give the refemblance in a ftyle equally removed\\nfrom meannefs and affectation. He ftudies the gran-\\ndeur of fimplicity.\\nSound morality fhould always reign in hiftory. A\\nhiftorian fhould ever fhow himfelf on the fide of virtue.\\nIt is not, however, his province to deliver moral in.\\nftru6lions in a formal manner. He fhould excite in*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "HISTORICAL WRITING. I g\u00c2\u00a3\\ncBgnation againft the defigning and the vicious; and\\nby appeals to the paffions, he will not only improve his\\nreader, but take away from the natural coolnefs of his-\\ntorical narration.\\nIn modern times hiftorical genius has fhone moft ifr\\nItaly. Acutenefs, political fagacity, and wifdom are\\nall confpicuous in Machiavel, Guicciardin, Davila,\\nBentivoglio, and Father Paul In Great-Britain hiito-\\nry has been faihionable only a few years. For, though\\nClarendon and Burnet are considerable hiftorians, they\\nare inferiour to Hume, Robmfon, and Gibbon,\\nThe inferior kinds of hiftorical compaction are an*\\nxiah} memcirsi and lives. AnnaU ^re a collection of\\nfa\u00c2\u00a3U in chronological orders and the properties of an\\nannalift are fidelity and Afftift nefe. Memoirs aw\\nfpecies of compofition, in which an author pretends not\\nto give a complete detail of fa\u00c2\u00a3ts, but only to record\\nwhat he himfclf knew, or was concerned in, or what\\niiluftrates the conducl of fome perfon, or fome tranf-\\naction which he choofes for his fubjeft. It is not\\ntherefore expedied of fuch a writer, that he poffefs the\\nfame profound refearch, and thefe fuperiour talents,\\nwhich are requifite in a hiftorian. It is chiefly re*\\nquired of him that he be fprightly and interesting,\\nThe French during two centuries have poured forth\\nflood of memoirs the moil of which are little more\\nthan agreeable trifles. We mud, however, except\\nfrom this cenfure the memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz\\nand thofe of the Duke of Sully. The former join to\\na lively narrative great knowledge of human nature.\\nThe latter deferve very particular praife. They ap-\\nproach to the ufefulnefs and dignity of legitimate hif-\\ntory. They are full of virtue and good fenfe t, and are\\nwell calculated to form both the heads and hearts of", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "i(p\u00c2\u00a9 PHILOSOPHICAL WRITING?\\nfhofe who are defigned for publick bufinefs and higft\\nftations in the world.\\nBiography is a very ufeful kind of compofition\\nlefs (lately than hiftcry but perhaps not lefs inftruo\\ntive. It affords fall opportunity of difplaying the char-\\nacters of eminent men, and of entering into a thorough\\nacquaintance with them. In this kind, of writing.\\nPlutarch excels 5 bat his matter is better than his\\nmanner he has no peculiar beauty nor elegance.\\nHis judgment and accuracy alfo are fometimes taxed.\\nBut he is a very humane writer, and fond of difplaying\\ngreat men in the gentle lights of retirement\\nBefore we conclude this fubje it is proper to ob-\\nferve, that of late years a great improvement has been\\nintroduced into historical compofition. More particu-\\nlar attention than formerly, has been given to laws,\\ncuftoms, commerce, religion, literature, and to every\\nthing that fhows the fpirit and genius of nations. It\\nis now conceived that a hiftorian ought to illuftrate\\nmanners as well as fa\u00c2\u00a3ts and events. Whatever dif-\\nplays the ftate of mankind in different periods what*\\never illuftrates the progrefs of the human mind, is\\nmore ufeful than details of fieg.es and battles.\\nPHILOSOPHICAL WRITING AND DIA~\\nLOGUE.\\n\\\\JF philofophy the profefied defign is inflruc-\\ntion. With the philofopher therefore ftyle, form and\\ndrefs are inferiour objeffcs. But they mud not be whol-\\nly negle ed. The fame truths and reafonings, deliv-\\nered with elegance, will ftrike more than in a dull\\nand dry manner..", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "AND DIALOGUE. 1$\\nBeyond mere perfpicuity, the ftri\u00c2\u00a3teft precifion and\\naccuracy are required in a philosophical writer and\\nthefe qualities may be pofTefled without drynefs. Phi-\\nlofophical writing admits a polifhed, neat and elegant\\nftyle. It admits the calm figures of fpeech but re-\\njeds whatever is florid and tumid. Plato and Cicero\\nhave left philofophical treatifes, compofed with much\\nelegance and beauty. Seneca is too fond of an affect-\\ned, brilliant, fparkling manner. Locke s Treatife on\\nHuman Underftanding is a model of a clear and dif-\\ntin\u00c2\u00a3t philofophical ftyle. In the writings of Shaftef-\\nbury, on the other hand, philofophy is drefled up with\\ntoo much ornament and finery.\\nAmong the ancients, philofophical writing often af-\\nfumed the form of dialogue. Plato is eminent for the\\nbeauty of his dialogues. In richnefs of imagination\\nno philofophick writer, ancient or modern, is equal to\\nhim. His only fault is the exceffive fertility of his\\nimagination, which fometimes obfcures his judgment,\\nand frequently carries him into allegory, fiction, en-\\nthufiafm, and the airy regions of myftical theology.\\nCicero s dialogues are not fo fpirited and charadterif-\\ntical as thofe of Plato. They are however agreeable,\\nand well fupported andfnow us converfation, carri-\\ned on among fome principal perfons of ancient Rome\\nwith freedotrij good breeding, and dignity. Of the\\nlight and humorous dialogue, Lucian is a model and\\nhe has been imitated by feveral modern writers. Fon-\\ntenelle has written dialogues, which are fprightly and\\nagreeable but his characters, whoever his perfonages\\nbe, all became Frenchmen. The divine dialogues of\\nDr.Henry More amid the academick ftiffhefs of the age\\nare often remarkable for character and vivacity. Bifli*\\nop Berkley s dialogues are abftraft, yet perfpicuaus.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "3T$2 FICTITIOUS HISTORY.\\ni.\\nEPISTOLARY WRITING.\\nLN epiftolary writing we expe\u00c2\u00a3l eafe and Famil-\\niarity and much of its charm depends on its introduc-\\ning us into fome acquaintance with the writer. Its\\nfundamental requifites are nature and fimplicity,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2fprightlinefs and wit. The flyle of letters, like that\\nof con venation, fhould flow eafily. It ought to be\\nneat and corre\u00c2\u00a3t, but no more. Cicero s epiftles are\\nthe moll valuable collection of letters, extant in any\\nlanguage. They are compofed with purity and ele-\\ngance, but without the leaft affectation. Several let-\\nters of Lord Bolingbroke and of Bifhop Atterbury are\\ninafterly. In thofe of Pope there is generally too much\\nftudy and his letters to ladies in particular are full\\nof affectation. Thofe of Swift and Arbuthnot are\\nwritten with eafe and fimplicity. Of a familiar cor-\\nrefpondence, the moll accompliihed model are the let-\\nters of Madam de Sevigne. They are eafy, varied,\\nlively and beautiful. The letters of Lady Mary Wort-\\nley Montague, are perhaps more agreeable to the epif-\\ntolary ftyle, than any in the Englifh language.\\nTt\\nFICTITIOUS HISTORY.\\nHIS fpecies of compofition includes a very\\nnumerous, and in general a very infignificant clafs of\\nwritings, called romances and novels. Of thefe how-\\never the influence is known to be great both on the\\nmorals and tafte of a nation. Notwithflanding the bad\\nends to which this mode of writing is applied, it might\\nbe employed for very ufeful purpofes. Romances and", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "FICTITIOUS HISTORY. 193\\nnovels defcribe human life and manners, and difcover\\nthe errors into which we are betrayed by the pafiions.\\nWife men in ail ages have ufed fables and fictions as\\nvehicles of knowledge and it is an obfervation of\\nLord Bacon, that the common affairs of the world\\nare irrfufficient to fill the mind of man. He mull\\ncreate worlds of his own, and wander in the regions\\nof imagination.\\nAll nations whatsoever have difcovered a love of fic-\\ntion, and talents for invention. The Indians, Perfians,\\nand Arabians, abounded in fables and parables. A-\\nrnong the Greeks, we hear of the Ionian and Milefian\\ntales. Daring the dark ages, ficlion affumed an un-\\nufual form, from the prevalence of chivalry. Ro-\\nmances arofe, and carried the marvellous to its fummit.\\nTheir knights were patterns not only of the moil he-\\nroick courage, but of religion, generofity, courtefy and\\nfidelity and the heroines were no lefs diflinguifhed\\nfor modefty delicacy, and dignity of manners. Of\\nthefe romances, the mod perfect model is the Orlando\\nFuriofo. But as magick and enchantment came to be\\ndifoelieved and ridiculed, the ehivalerian romances\\nwere di (continued, and were fucceeded by a new fpe-\\ncies of fictitious writing.\\nOf the fecond ilage of romance writing, the Cleo-\\npatra of Madame Scuderi and the Arcadia of Sir Philip\\nSydney are good examples. In thefe, however, there\\nwas ftill too large a proportion of the marvellous\\nand the books were too voluminous and tedious.\\nRomance writing appeared therefore in n new form,\\nand dwindled down to the familiar novel Interefting\\nfiliations in real life are the ground- work of novel\\nwriting. Upon this plan the Tu-clq huve product", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "194 NATURE OF POETRY.\\nfeme works of confiderahle merit. Such are the Gil\\nBias of Le Sage and the Marianne of Marivaux.\\nIn this mode of writing, the Englilh are inferiour to\\nthe French yet in this kind there are fome perform-\\nances which difcover the ftrength of the Britifh genius.\\nNo fi\u00c2\u00a3Uon was ever better fupported than the Ad-\\nventures of Robinfon Crufoe. Fielding s novels are\\nhighly diftinguilhed for humour and boldaefs of char*\u00c2\u00bb\\nadler. Richardfon, the author of Clariffa, is the mod\\nmoral of all our novel writers but he porTefles the\\nunfortunate talent of fpinning out pieces of amufement\\ninto an imrneafurable length. The trivial performan-\\nces which daily appear under the title of lives, adven*.\\ntures, and hiilories, by anonymous authors, are moft\\ninfipid, and, it muft be confeffed, often tend to deprave\\nthe morals, and to encourage diflipation and idlenefs,.\\nNATURE OF POETRY. ITS ORIGIN AND\\nFROGRESS. VERSIFICATION.\\nW H ATj it may be alked, is poetry and how\\ndoes it differ from profe Many difput.es have been\\nmaintained among criticks upon thefe questions. The\\neffence of poetry is fuppofed by Ariflotle, Plato, and\\nothers, to con fill in ficlion. But this is too limited a\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0defcriptio.n. Many think the character! (tick of poetry\\nlies in imitation. But imitation of manners and char-\\nafters may be carried on in profe as well as in po*\\netry.\\nPerhaps the beft definition is this, poetry is the\\nf* language of paffion, or of enlivened imagination,\\nfi formed moil commonly into regular numbers. A.$", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. IpJ\\nthe primary object of a poet is to pleafe and to move,\\nit is to the imagination and the pactions that he ad-\\ndrefies himfelf. It is by pleafing and moving, that he-\\naims toinftru\u00c2\u00a3i and reform.\\nPoetry is older than profe. In the beginning of\\nfociety there were occafions upon which men met to-\\ngether for feafts and facrifices, when mufick, dancing,\\nand fon^s were the chief entertainment. The meet-\\ningsof American tribes arediftinguifhed by mufick and\\nfongs. In fongs they celebrate their religious rites\\nand martial achievements and in fuch fongs we trace\\nthe beginning of poetick compofition.\\nMan is by nature both a poet and mufician. The\\nfame impulfe which produced a poetick ftyle, prompt-\\ned a certain melody or modulation of found, fuited to\\nthe emotions of joy or grief, love or anger. Mufick and\\npoetry are united in fong, and mutually affift and ex-\\nalt each other. The firft poets fung their own verfes.\\nHence the origin of verification, or the arrangement\\nof words to tune or melody.\\nPoets and fongs are the firft objects that make their\\nappearance in all nations. ApoHo, Orpheus and\\nAmphionwere the firft tamers of mankind among\\nthe Greeks; The Gothick nations had their fcalders,\\nor poets. The Celtick tribes had their bards. Poems\\nand fongs are among the antiquities of all countries\\nand, as the occafions of their being compofed are\\nnearly the fame, fo they remarkably refemble each\\nother in ftyle. They comprize the celebration of gods\\nand heroes, and victories. They abound in fire and\\nenthufiafm they are wild, irregular, and glowing.\\nDuring the infancy of poetry, all its different kinds-\\nwere mingled in the fame compofition but in the", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "296 ENGLISH VERSIFICATION.\\nprogrefs of lociety, poems affumed their different reg-\\nular forms. Time feparated into claffes the feverat\\nkinds of poetick compofition. The ode and the elegy r\\nthe epick poem and the drama, are all reduced to rule,,\\n*nd excercife the acutenefs of criticifrm\\nENGLISH VERSIFICATION.\\nIN ATIONS, whofe language and pronuncia-\\ntion were mufical, reded their verfification chiefly oa\\ntlie quantities of their fyllables v but mere quantity\\nhas very little effect in Englifh verfe. For the differ-\\nence, made between long and fhort fyllables in our\\nmanner of pronouncing them, is very /inconsiderable.\\nThe only perceptible difference among our fyllables\\narifes from that ftrong percuiTion of voice which is.\\ntermed accent. This accent however does not always\\nmake the fy liable longer, but only gives it more force\\nof found and it is rather upon a certain order and\\nfucceffion of accented and unaccented fyllables, thaq\\nupon their quantity* that the melody of our verfe de-\\npends.\\nIn the conftitutian of our verfe there is another\\neflential circumliance. There is the csefural paufe,\\nwhich falls near the middle of each line. This paufe\\nmay fall after the fourth, fifth, fixth, or feventh fyila-\\nble j and by this mean uncommon variety and rich-\\nnefs are added to Englifh verification.\\nOur Engiilh verfe is of lambick ftru ure, compofed\\nof a nearly alternate fucceffion of unaccented and ac-\\ncented fyllables. When the paufe falls earlieft, that\\nis* after the fourth fyllahle, the briike ft melody is.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "thereby formed. Of this, the following lines from\\nPope, are a happy illuft ration:\\nOa her white bread a fp at id in? cmfs \u00c2\u00bblie wore,\\nWhich Jews might kifs and infidels adore\\nHer lively looks a fprightfy nihid difeiufe,\\n(^jick, as her eyes, and as unhVd as thole.\\nFavours to none, to all ihe unites extends j\\nOft (lie rejects, bat never once offends.\\nWhen the paufe falls after the fifth fyllable, dividing:\\nthe line into two equal portions^ the melody is fend-\\nbly altered 1 The verfe, foGag the brilk air of the\\nformer paufe, becomes more fmooth and flowing.\\nEternal funfhine j of the fpotlefs mind,\\nEach prayer accepted, j and each vviilx reilgn dV 1\\nWhen the paufe follows the fixth fyllable, the mel-\\nody becomes grave. The moyenrent of the verfe is\\nmore folemu and meafured.\\nThe wrath of Pe eus 10,1, [-the direful fprtri^\\nOf ail the Grecian woes, I O goddefo, dag,\\nThe grave cadence becomes ft HI more le alible when 1\\nthe paufe follows the feventh fyllable. This kind oi\\nverfe however feldonv occurs and its eife:i is to di*\\nyerfify the melody.\\nAnd in the fmooth dtfcripttve murmur flillj\\nLong lov d, ador d ideaj, j ail adieu.\\nOur blank verfe is a noble, bold and diiencumberei\\nmode of verification. It is free from the full- clofe\\nwhich rhyme farces upon the ear at the end of every\\ncouplet. Hence it is peculiarly fuited to fabjecb of\\ndignity and force. It is more favourable than rhyme\\nto the fublime and highly pathe tick* It is the mo ;t\\n2-", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "I9\u00c2\u00a7 MSTORA-L POETRY*\\nproper for an epick poem and for tragedy. Rhyme\\nfinds its proper place in the middle regions of poetry j,\\nand blank verfe in the higheft.\\nThe prefent form of our .Englifh heroick rhyme in\\ncouplets is -modern. The meafure ufed in the days of\\nElizabeth, James, and Charles L was the ft an z a of\\neight lines. Waller was the firft who introduced;\\ncouplets 5 and DrydeneftabliYhed the ufage.. Waller\\nfmooihed our verfe, and Dryden perfected it The\\nverfi fication of Pope is peculiar* It. is flowing, \u00c2\u00a3mooth\\nand corre.fit in the higheft 1 degree. He has totally\\nthrown afide the triplets fo common in Dryden. In;\\neafe and variety, Dryden excels Pope. He frequently;\\nmakes his couplets run into one another, with fame--\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2what of the freedom of blank verfe.,\\nPASTORAL POETRY.\\nii\\ntT was not before men had begun to aiTembie-\\nin great cities, and the buftle of courts and large foci\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nsties was known, that paftoral poetry afiumed its- pres-\\nent form. Erom the tumult of a. city life, men look-\\ned back with complacency to the innocence of rural,\\nretirement. In the court of Ptolemy, Theocritus\\nwrote the firft paftorals with which we are acquaint-\\ned and in the court of Auguftus, Virgil imitated him.\\nThe paftoral is a very agreeable fpecies of poetry.-\\nIt lays before us the gay and plea fing fcenes of nature.\\nIt recals obje s which are commonly- the. delight of\\nour childhood and youth. It exhibits a life with which\\nwe affbciate ideas of innocence, peace and leifure. It.:\\niranfports us into Ely Ran regions, It prefeots many.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "PASTORAL POETRY, 1 99\\nobjects favourable to poetry; rivers and mountains,\\nmeadows and hills, rocks and trees, flocks and fhep-\\nherds void of care.\\nA paftoral poet is careful to exhibit whatever is\\nmofl pleafing in the paftoral ftate. He paints its fim-\\nplicity, tranquillity, innocence, and happinefs but\\nconceals its rudenefs and mifery. If his pictures be\\nnot thofe of real life, they muft refemble it. This is\\na general idea of paftoral poetry* But, to underftand\\nit more perfectly, let us confider, 1. The fcenery\\n2.. The chara\u00c2\u00a3iers and laftly, the fubjects it fhould\\nexhibit.\\nThe fcene muft always be in the country y and the\\npoet muft have a talent for defcription. In this refpeft,\\nVirgil is excelled by Theocritus, whofe defcriptions\\nare richer and more piiiurefque. In every paftoral a\\nrural profpedt fhould be draw r n with diftin nefs, It:\\nis not enough to have unmeaning groups of rofes and:\\nviolets, of birds, breezes and brooks thrown together.\\nA good poet gives fuch a landscape as a painter,\\nmight copy, His objects are particularized. The\\nftream, the rock, or the tree, fo ftands forth as to\\nmake a figure in the imagination, and give a pleat-\\ning conception, of the place where w r e are.\\nIn his allufions to natural objefts as well as in pro-\\nfefled defcriptions of the fcenery, the poet muft ftudy.\\nvariety* He muft diverfify his face of nature by pre-\\nfenting us new images. He muft alfo fuit the fcenery/\\nto the fubje\u00c2\u00a3t of his paftoral and exhibit nature un^\\nder fuch forms as may correfpond with the emotions\\nand fentiments he defcribesr Thus Virgil, when he\\ngives the lamentation of a defpairing lover, commu-\\nnicates a gloom to, the fcene*.", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "H0 PASTORAL POETRY.\\nTantuni inter dcnfas, umbrofa cacumina, fagos 3 i\\nAflidue veniebat ibi hasc incondita foius\\nMont us etfylvis ftudio ja abat inaui.\\nWith regard to the characters in paftorals, it is nod\\nfufficient that they be perfo ns reading iri the country.-\\nCourtiers and citizens who refort thither occafionally\\nare not the chara\u00c2\u00a3tirs expected in paftorals. We\\nexpect to be entertained by ihepherds, or perfons whoU\\nly engaged in rural occupations. The fhepherd mud\\nbe plain and unaffected in his manner of thinking,\\nAn amiable fimplicity mult be the ground- work of his\\ncharacter though there is no neceffity for his being\\ndull and infipid. He may have good ferife, and even\\nvivacity tender and delicate feelings. But he muft\\nnever deal in general reflections, or ab(tra\u00c2\u00a3t reaibnings\\nnor in conceits of gallantry for thefe are confe-\\nrences of refinement. When Arntrfta in Taflb is\\ndifentangling his miftrefs s hair from the tree, to which\\na favage had bound it, he is made to fay u Cruel tree,\\nhow couldft thou injure that lovely hair, which diet\\nthee ib much honour Thy rugged trunk was not\\nM worthy of fo lovely knots. What advantage have\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00aci the fervants of love, if thofe precious chains are\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00act common to them and to trees Strained feriti-\\nments, like theie, fuit not the woods. The language of\\nrural perfonages is that of plain fenfe and natural feed-\\ning as in the following beatiful lines of Virgil\\nSepibus in noftris parvam te rofcida mala\\n(Dux ego vefter eram) vidi cum matre legentem\\nAlter abundecimo turn me jam ceperat annus,\\nJam fragilespoterama terra contengere ramos.\\nUt vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abllulit error\\nThe next enquiry is, what are the proper fuhje\u00c2\u00a3is of\\njaftorals For it h not enough that the poet g.ive u", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "FxlSTORAL POETRT. 20 F\\nJfcepherdsdifcourfmg together. Every good poem has\\na fubject that iti fome way interefts us. In this lies\\nthe difficulty of paftoral writing. The active fcenes of\\ncountry life are too barren of incidents. The condi-\\ntion of a (hepherd has few things in it that excite cu~\\nriofity or furprize. Hence of all poems the paftoral is\\nmod meagre in fubje\u00c2\u00a3t, and leaft diverGfied in drain.\\nYet this defett is not to be afcribed fblely to barren-\\nnefs of fuhje\u00c2\u00a3ts. It is m a great meafure the fault of\\nthe poet. For human nature and human paflions are\\nmuch the fame in every fituation and rank of life.\\nWhat a variety of objects within the rural fphere do\\nthe paflions prefent The ftruggles and ambition o\u00c2\u00a3\\nfliepherds y their adventures their difquiet and felici-\\nty the rivalihip of lovers unexpected fuccefies and\\ndifafters j are all proper fubjedfts for the paftoraL\\nmufe.\\nTheocritus and Virgil are the two great fathers o\u00c2\u00a3\\npaftoral writing. For fimplicity of fentiment, harmo-\\nny of numbers, and richnefs of fcenery, the former is\\nhighly diftinguithed. But he fometimes defcends to\\nideas that are grofs and mean, and makes his fliep-\\nherds abuGve and immodeft. Virgil on the contrary,\\npreferves the paftoral fimplicity without any offenfive:\\nrufticity.\\nModern writers of paftorals have m general imitat-\\ned the ancient poets. Sannazarius, however, a Latin\\npoet, in the age of Leo X* attempted: a bold innova-\\ntion, by comppfing pifcatory eclogues, and changing the\\nfcene from the woods to the fea, and the character\\nfrom fhepherds to fi mer men. But the attempt was fo\\nunhappy that he has no followers. The toilfome\\nlife of \u00c2\u00a3fhermen has nothing agreeable to prefent. to*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "202 PASTORAL POETRY.\\nthe imagination. Fifties and marine productions hare\\nnothing poetical in them. Of all the moderns, Gef-\\nner, a poet of Switzerland, has been the moft happy\\nin paftoral compofition. Many new ideas are intro-\\nduced in his Idyls. His fcenery is ftriking, and his\\ndescriptions lively. He is pathetick, and writes to the\\nheart. Neither the paftorals of Pope, nor of Philips,\\ndo much honour to Englifh poetry. The paftorals of\\nPope are barren their chief merit is the fmoothnefs\\n\u00c2\u00a9f the numbers. Philips attempted tobemorefim*\\npie and natural than Pope but wanted genius to\\nfupport the attempt. His topicks, like thofe of Pope,\\nare beaten and, inftead of being natural or fimple, he\\nis flat and infipid. Shenftone s paftoral ballad is one\\nof the moft elegant poems of the kind in the Englifb\\nlanguage.\\nIn latter times paftoral writing has been extended\\ninto regular drama and this is the chief improvement\\nthe moderns have made in it. Two pieces of this,\\nkind are highly celebrated, Guarini s Pallor Fido, and\\nTaffb s Aminta. Both poflefs great beauties y but the\\nlatter is the preferable poem, becaufe lefs intricate,\\nand lefs affe\u00c2\u00a3ted though not wholly free from Italian\\nrefinement. As a poem, however, it has great merit.\\nThe poetry is pleafing and gentle, and the Italian lan-\\nguage confers on it much of that foftnefs which is\\nfuited to the paftoral.\\nThe Gentle Shepherd of Allan Rarnfay is a paftor-\\nal drama which will bear comparifon with any com-\\npofition of the kind in any language. To this admir-\\nable poem it is a difadvantage, that it is written in\\nthe old ruftick dialect of Scotland, which muft foon be\\no.bfolete 5; and it is a farther difadvantage, that it is", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "LYRICK POETRY. 203\\nformed fo entirely on the rural manners of Scotland,\\nthat none, but a native of that country, can thoroughly\\nunderftand and relifh it. It is full of natural descrip-\\ntion, and excels in tendernefs of fentiment. The\\nchara ers are well drawn, the incidents affecting, the\\nfcenery and manners lively andjuft.\\nLYRICK POETRY.\\nA HE ode is a fpecies of poetry, which has\\ncnuch dignity, and in which many writers in every\\nage have diftinguifhed themfelves. Ode in Greek is\\nthe fame with fong or hymn and lyrick poetry implies\\nthat the verfes are accompanied with a lyre, or mufic-\\nal inftrument. In the ode, poetry retains its fir ft form,\\nand its original union with mufick. Sentiments com-\\nmonly conftitute its* fubje\u00c2\u00a3L It recites not s ions.\\nIts fpirit and the manner of its execution mark its\\ncharacter. It admits a bolder and more paflionate\\nftrain than is allowed in fimple recital. Hence the\\nenthufiafm that belongs to it. Hence that neglect of\\nregularity, thofe sdigrefhons, and that diforder, it is\\nfuppofed to admit.\\nAll odes may be claffed under four denominations,\\n1. Hymns addreffed to Cod, or compofed on religious\\nfubje s. 2. Hercick odes, which concern the cele-\\nbration of heroes and great actions. 3. Moral and\\nphilosophical odes, which refer chiefly to virtue,\\nfriendship and humanity, 4. Feflive and amorous\\nodes, which are calculated merely for amufement and\\npleafure.\\nEnthufiafm being confidered as the charafleriflick\\npf the ode, it has often degenerated into licentioufnefs*", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "204 LYRICK POETRY.\\nThis fpecics of writing has, above all others, been in-\\nfee ed by want of order, method, and connexion.\\nThe poet is out of fight in a moment. He is fo ab-\\nrupt and eccentrick, fo irregular and obfeure, that we\\ncannot follow him. It is not indeed necefiary that the\\nilrucl ure of the ode be fo perfectly regular as the epick\\np.;cn h But in every compofition there ought to be a\\nwhole; and this whole fhould confift of connected\\nparts. The tranfition from thought to thought may\\nbe light and delicate, but the conntxion of ideas fhould\\nbe preferved the author fhould think, and not rave,\\nPindar, the father of lyrick poetry, has led his imi-\\ntators into enthufiaftick wilcintfs. They imitate his\\ndiforder without catching his fpirit. In Horace s odes\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2every thing is correel, harmonious, and happy. His\\nelevation is moderate, not rapturous. Grace and ele-\\ngance are his characlerifticks. He fupports a moral\\nfentirftent with dignity, touches a gay one with felici-\\nty, and has the art of trifling moft agieeably. His\\nlanguage too is moft fortunate.\\nMany Latin poets of later ages have imitated him.\\nCaGmir, aPolifh poet of the laft century, is of this\\nnumber and difcovers a confiderable degree of orig-\\ninal genius and poetick fire. He is, however, far infe-\\nriour to the Raman in graceful expreffion. Buchanan\\nin fome of his lyrick compositions is very elegant and\\nchiliad.\\nIn our own language, Bryclen s ode en St. Cecilia\\nIs well known. Mr. Gray in fome of his ocles is cel-\\nebrated for tendernefs and fublimity and in Dodf-\\nley s IViifcelkmies are feveral very beautiful lyrick po-\\nems. ProfeiTedly Pindarick odes are feldcm intelligible.\\nCowley is doubly harfii in his Pindarick competitions.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "5 IDACTICK POETRY.\\nHis Anacreontick odes are happier, and perhaps the\\nmoft agreeable and perfect in their kind of all his\\npoems.\\nDIDACTICK POETRY,\\no,\\nFdidactick poetry, it is the exprefs intention\\nto convey inftru\u00c2\u00a3tion and knowledge. It may be ex-\\necuted in different ways. The poet may treat fome\\ninftru\u00c2\u00a3iive fubje\u00c2\u00a3t in a regular form or without in-\\ntending a great or regular work, he may inveigh a-\\ngainft particular vices, or make fome moral obferva-\\ntions on human life and characters.\\nThe higheft fpecies of didadtick poetry is a regular\\ntreatife on fome philosophical, grave, or ufeful fubje\u00c2\u00a3h\\nSuch are the books of Lucretius de Rerum Natura,\\nthe Georgicks of Virgil, Pope s Eflay on Criticifm, A-\\nkenfide s Pleafures of the Imagination, Armftrong on\\nHealth, and the Art of Poetry, by Horace, Vida, and\\nBoileau.\\nIn all fuch works, as inftru\u00c2\u00a3lion is the profefled\\nobjeft, tlie chief merit confifts in found* thought, juft\\nprinciples, and apt illuftrations. It is neceflary how*.\\never that the poet enliven his leflbns by figures, inci-\\ndents, and- poetical painting. Virgil in his Georgicks\\nembellifnes the moft trivial circumftances in rural life.\\nWhen he teaches that the labour of the farmer miift\\nbegin in fpring, he exprefies himfelf thus\\nVcre novo gelidus eanis cum montlbus humor\\nUquitur, et Zephyr o putris fe gleba refolvit\\nBepreiTo incipiat j. otro\\nIngcmcrc, et fulco atti l efcerc von\\nS", "height": "4302", "width": "2494", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "2\u00c2\u00a96 mPAcriex poetry-\\nIn all didadtick works fuch method is requifite, as\\nwill clearly exhibit a connected train of instruction.\\nWith regard to epifodes and embellifhments, writers\\nof didactick poetry are indulged great liberties. For in\\na poetical performance a continued feries of inftruc-\\ntion without dnbellifhment foon fatigues. The di-\\ngreffions in the Georgicks of Virgil are his principal\\nbeauties. The happinefs of a country life, the fable\\nof Arifteus, and the tale of Orpheus and Bury-dice*\\ncannot be praifed too much.\\nA didactick poet ought alfo to connect his epifodes\\nwith his fubject. In this,Virgil is eminent. Among\\nmodern didactick poets, Akenfide and Armftrongare\\ndiltinguiflied. The former is rich and poetical but\\nthe latter maintains greater equality, and more chafte\\nand correct elegance.\\nOf didactick poetry, fatires and epiftles run into the\\nmolt familiar flyie. Satire feems to have been at\\nfir (I a relickof ancient comedy, the groffhefs of which\\nwas corrected by Ennius and Lucilius. At length,\\nHorace brought it into its prefent form. Reforma-\\ntion of manners is its profe fled end and vice and\\nvicious characters are the objects of its cenfure. There\\nare three different modes in which it has been con-\\nducted by the three great ancient fatirifts, Horace\\nJuvenal, andPerfius.\\nThe fatires of Horace have not much elevation.\\nThey exhibit a -rneafured profe. Eafe and grace\\ncharacterize his manner and he. glances rather at the\\nfollies and weakneffes of mankind, than at their vices.\\nHe fmiles while he reproves. He moralizes like a\\nfound philofopher, but with the poiitenefs of a cour-\\ntier. Juvenal is more declamatory and ferious end", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 20 7\\nlias greater ftrength and fire. Perfius has diftinguifh-\\nedhimfelf by a noble and fublime morality.\\nPoetical epiftles, when employed on moral or crit-\\nical fubj eels, feldom rife into a higher drain of poet-\\nry, than fatires. But in the epiitolary form, many\\nother fubjecls maybe treated as love, poetry, or ele-\\ngiack. The ethical epiftles of Pope are a model and\\nin them he mows the ftrength of his genius. Here\\nhe had a full opportunity for difplaying his judgment\\nand wit, his conciie and happy expreffion, together\\nwith the harmony of his numbers, ills imitations of\\nHorace are fo happy, that it is difficult to fay,\\nwhether the original or the copy ought to be molt\\nadmired.\\nAmong moral and didaciick writers, Dr. Young\\nought not to be paffed over in filence. Genius appears\\nin all his works out his Univerfal PafTion may be\\nconfidered as pofleiling the full merit of that animat-\\ned concifenefs, particularly requifite in fatirical and\\ndidadtick compofitions. At the fame time it is to b\\ncbferved, that his wit is often too fparkling, and his\\nfentences too pointed. In his Night Thoughts there\\nis great energy of expreffion, feveral pathetick paf-\\nfages, many happy images, and many pious reflec-\\ntions. But his fentiments are frequently overftrained\\nand turgid^ and the ftyle harm, and obicure.\\nDESCRIFIWE POETRY.\\nL\\nLN defcriptive poetry the higheft exertions of\\ngenius may be difplayed. In general, indeed, defcrip-\\ntion is introduced as an embeilifhment, not as\u00c2\u00ab the", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "20 8 DESCRIPTIVE POETRY.\\nfubjeft of a regular work. It is the ted of a poet s\\nimagination, and always diftinguifhes an original from I\\na fecond rate genius. A writer of an inferiour clafs\\nfees nothing new or peculiar in the objeft he would\\npaint his conceptions are loofe and vague and his\\nexpreflions feeble and general. A true poet places an\\nobje\u00c2\u00a3t before our eyes. He gives it the colouring of\\nlife a painter might copy from him.\\nThe great art of pi urefque defcription lies in the\\nfele ion of circumfiances. Thefe ought never to be\\nvulgar or common. They fhould mark ftrongly the\\nobject. No general defcription is good ail diftinft\\nideas are formed upon particulars. There fhould alfo\\nbe uniformity in the circumftances fele ed. In de-\\nscribing a great object, every circumftance brought for-\\nward fhould tend to aggrandize and in defcribing a\\ngay objeft, all the circumfiances fhould t$nd to beau*\\ntify it. Laftly, the circumftances in defcription fliould\\nbe exprefied with concifenefs and fimplicity.\\nThe largefl andfulleft defcriptive performance in\\nperhaps any language, is Thomfon s Seafons a work\\nwhich pofieiFes very uncommon merit. The fiyle is\\nfplendid and ftrong,but Sometimes harfb and indiftinch\\nHe is an animated and beautiful defcriber for he\\nhad a feeling heart and a warm imagination. He\\nftudied nature with care was enamoured of her\\nbeauties and had the happy talent of painting thertv\\nlike a m after. To fhow the power of a ftngle well-\\nchofen circumftance in heightening a defcription, the\\nf jllowing paiTage may be produced from his Summer,\\nwhere, relating the effe s of heat in the torrid zone,\\nhe is led to take notice of the peftilence that deftroy-\\ned the Englifh fleet at Carthagena, under Admiral\\nVernon.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "DESCRIPTiTE POETRY. ZO{#\\nYou, gallant Vernon, faw\\nThe miferable fcene you* pitying faw\\nTo infant weaknefs funk the warriour s arm\\nSaw the deep racking pang the ghaftly form\\nThe lip pale quivering, and the beamlefs eye\\nNomor,e with ardour bright you heard the groans\\nOf agonizing (hips from fliore to fhore\\nHeard, nightly plungM amid the fullen waves\\nThe frequent corfe.\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nAll the circumftances here fele\u00c2\u00a3led tend to height-\\nen the difmal fcene but the lad image is the mod\\nftriking in the pifture.\\nOf defcriptive narration there are beautiful examples\\nin Parcel s Tale of the Hermit The fetting forth of\\nthe hermit to vifit the world, his meeting a compan-\\nion, and the houfes in which they are entertained, of\\nthe vain man, the covetous man, and the good man,\\nare pieces of highly finished painting. But the richeft\\nand the rnoft remarkable of all the defcriptive poems;\\nin the Englifh language* are the Allegro and the Pen-\\nferofo of Milton. They are the ftore-boufe whence\\nmany fucceeding poets have enriched their defcriptions r\\nand are inimitably fine poems. Take, for rattance^\\nthe following lines from the Penferofo\\nIwalk, unfeen\\nOil the dry, fmooth-iliaven greeny,\\nTo behold the wandering moon,\\nPJding near her higheft noon\\nAnd oft j as if her head fhe bow*d\\nStooping through a fleecy cloud.,\\nOft on a plat of rifing ground\\nrhear the far off curfew found,\\nOver foine wide watered fhore\\nSwinging flaw with folemn rear 5\\nGf, if the air will not permit,\\nSome ftill removed-place, will fit j,", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "2rIQ INSCRIPTIVE POETRY.\\nWhere glowing embers through the room-\\nTeach light to counterfeit a gloom\\nFar from all refort of mirth,\\nSave the cricket on the hearth,\\nOr the bellman s drowfy charm,\\nTo blefs the doors from nightly harm fe\\nOr let my lamp at midnight hour\\nBefeen in fome high lonely tower,\\nExploring Plato, to unfold.\\nWhat worlds, or what vaft regions hold\\nTh immortal mind, that hath forfook\\nHer manfinn in this flcfhy nook\\nAnd of thefe demons, that are found.\\nIn fire, air, flood, or under ground,\\nHere are no general 5 expreffions all is pi\u00c2\u00a3turefqu@\\nexpreffive and concife. One ftrong point of view i\\nexhibited to the reader and the impreflipn made, is?\\nlively and interefting.\\nBoth Homer and Virgil excel in poetical descrip-\\ntion. In the fecond JEneid, the facking of Troy is fa\\nparticularly defcribed, that the reader finds himfelf in\\nthe midft of the fcene* The death of Priam is a\\nmafter^piece of defcription. Homer s battle* are all\\nwonderful. Oflian, too, paints in ftrong colours, and\\nis xemarkable for touching the heart. He thus por-\\ntrays the ruins of Balclutha I have feen the walls\\nof Balclutha but they were defolate. The fire\\ni( had refounded within the halls and the voice of\\nthe people is now heard no more. The ftream of\\nClutha was removed from its place by the fall of\\nw the v/alls the thiftle (hook there its lonely head j,\\nthe mofs whittled to the wind. The fox looked\\n4 out of the window the rank grafs waved round his\\nhead. Defolalfe is the dwelling of Moina. fileucc\\n41 is in the Ixoufe of her fathers.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "TOE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS; XIV\\nMuch of the beauty of defcriptive poetry depends\\nupon a proper choice of epithets* Many poets are\\noften carelefs in this particular hence the multitude\\nof unmeaning and redundant epithets. Hence the\\nLiquidi Pontes of Virgil, and the Prata Canis\\nAlbicant Pruinis of Horace. To obferve that water\\nis liquid, and that fnow is white, is little better tham\\nmere tautology. Every epithet fhould add a new idea,\\nto the word which it qualifier So in Milton\\nWho fhall tempt with wandering feet\\nThe dark unbottomed, infinite abyfs\\nAnd through the palpable obfcure find out\\nHis uncouth way Or fpread his airy flighty,\\nUpborne with indefatigable wings,\\nOver the vaft abrupt\\nThe description here is ftrengthened by the epithets,\\nThe wandering feet, the unbottomed abyfs, the pal**\\npable obfcure, the uncouth way, the indefatigahla\\nwing, are all happy exgreffiojas..\\nTHE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS.\\nIN treating* of the various kinds of poetry, that;\\nof the fcriptures juftly. deferves- a place. The facrecP\\nbooks prefent us the molt ancient, monuments of\\npoetry now extant, and furnifh a. curious fubje\u00c2\u00a3l of\\ncriticifm. They difplay the tafteof a remote age and:\\ncountry. They exhibit a fingular but beautiful fpe-\\ncies of compofition and it mud give great pleafure\\nif we find the beauty and dignity of the ftyle adequate\\nto the weight ani importance of the. matter. Dx\u00c2\u00bb", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "2 I2 THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS;\\nILowthY learned treatife on the poetry of the Hebrews-\\nought to be perufed by all. It is an exceeding val-\\nuable work botlrfbr elegance of ftyle and juftnefs of\\ncriticifrm We cannot do better than to follow the\\ntrack of this ingenious author.\\nAmong the Hebrews, poetry was cultivated from\\nthe earlieft times. Its general conffaru\u00c2\u00a3tion is fingu*\\nlar and peculiar. It confifts in dividing every period;\\ninto correfpondent, for the moll part into equal mem-\\nbers, which anfwer to each other, both in fenfe and\\nfound. In the firft member of a period a fentiment\\nis expreffed and in the fecond the fame fentiment\\nis amplified or repeated in different terms, or fome\\ntimes contrafted with its oppofite e Thus, Sing un-\\nu to the Lord anew fong fing unto the Lord ail the\\nu earth. Sing unto the Lord, and blefs his name\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00act fhow forth his falvation from- day to day* Declare\\nu his glory among the heathen j his wonders among all;\\npeople.\\nThis form of poetical compofition is deduced from\\nthe manner in which the Hebrews fung their facred\\nhymns. Thefewere accompanied with mufick, and\\nperformed by bands of fingers and muficians, who afc\\nternately anfwered each other. One band began the\\nhymn thus The Lord reigneth, let the earth re-\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00acl joice and the chorus, or femi-chorus, took up the\\nccrrefponding verficle Let the multitudes of the\\n41 ifles be glad thereof. 9\\nBut, independent of its peculiar mode of conftrue*\\ntion, the facred poetry is diftinguifhed by the higbeft\\nbeauties of ftrong, concife, bold, and figurative expref-\\nfion. Concifenefs and* ftrength are two of its mod,\\nremarkable chara ers, The fentences are always.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 2IJ\\nftort. The fame thought is never dwelt upon long.\\nHence the fublimity of the Hebrew poetry and all\\nwriters, who attempt the fublime, might profit much,\\nby imitating in this refpeft the ftyle of the old te [la-\\nment. No writings abound fo much in bold and an-\\nimated figures, as the facred books. Metaphors, com-\\nparifons, allegories, and perfonificatrons, are particu-\\nlarly frequent. But, to relifti thefe figures juftly, we\\nmuft tranfport ourfelves into Judea, and attend to\\nparticular circumftances in it. Through all that re-\\ngion little or no rain falls in the fummer months*\\nHence, to reprefent diftrefs, frequent allufions are\\nmade to a dry and thirfty land, where no water is\\nand hence, to defcribe a change from diftrefs to\\nprofperity, their metaphors are founded on the fall-\\ning of ftiowers, and the bnrfting out of fprings in a\\ndefert. Thus in Ifaiah, The wildernefs and the foli\u00c2\u00bb\\nu tary place (hall be glad, and the defert (hall rejoice\\nu and bloflbm as the rofe. For in the wildernefs\\n(hall waters break out, and dreams in the def~\\nert and the parched ground (hall become a pool\\nand the thirfty land fprings of water in the habi-\\nu tation of dragons there (hall be grafs, with rufhes\\nand reeds.\\nCoraparifons employed by the facred poets, are\\ngenerally (hort, touchingonly one point of refemblance-\\nSuch is the following He that ruleth over men 3\\nH muftbe juft, ruling in the fear of God and he\\nc fhall be as the light of the morning, when the fun\\nrifeth; even a morning without clouds; as the\\nu tender grafs fpringing out of the earth by clear\\nu finning after rain.\\nAllegory is likewife frequently employed in the fa-\\nffed books; and a. ftne inftance of this occurs in thft", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "214 THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS.\\nhtxxth Pfalm, wherein the people of Ifrael are compar-\\ned to a vine. Of parables, the prophetical writings\\nare full and, if to us they fometimes appear obfcure,\\nwe fliould remember that in early times it was univer-\\nfally the cuftom among all eaftern nations, to convey\\nfacred truths under myfterious figures.\\nThe figure, however, which elevates beyond all oth-\\ners the poetical ftyle of the fcriptures, is perfonifica-\\ntion. The personifications of the infpired writers ex-\\nceed in force and magnificence thofe of all other po-\\nets. This is more particularly true when any ap-\\npearance or operation of the Almighty is concerned.\\nBefore him went the peftilence. The waters faw\\nu thee, O God, and were afraid. The mountains faw\\nu thee, and they trembled. The overflowings of the\\nf waters paffed by the deep uttered his voice,\\nw and lifted up his hands on high. The poetry of\\nthe fcriptures is very different from modern poetry.\\nIt is the burft of infpiration. Bold fublimity, not cor*\\nre elegance, is its chara er.\\nThe feveral kinds of poetry, found in fcripture,\\nare chiefly the dida\u00c2\u00a3tick, elegiack, paftoral, and lyrick.\\nThe book of Proverbs is the principal inftanee of the\\ndidaftick fpecies of poetry. Of elegiack poetry, the la-\\nmentation of David over Jonathan is a very beautiful\\ninftance. Of paftoral poetry, the Song of Solomon is\\na high exemplification and of lyrick poetry, the Old\\nTeftament is full. The whole book of Pfalms is a\\ncollection of facred odes.\\nAmong the compofers of the facred books there is\\nan evident diverfity of ftyle. Of the facred poets, the\\nmod eminent are the author of the book of Job, Da-\\n^id, and Ifaiah. In the compofitions of David there", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "EPICK POETRY. 215\\nis a great variety of manner. In the foft and tender\\nhe excels and in his Pfalms are many lofty paflages.\\nBut in ftrength of description he yields to Job in Sub-\\nlimity, to Ifaiah. Without exception, Ifaiah is the\\nmod fublime of all poets. Dr. Lowth compares Ifai-\\nah to Homer, Jeremiah to Simonides, and Ezekiel to\\njEfchylus. Among the minor prophets, Hofea, Joel,\\nMicah, Habakkuk, and efpecially Nahum, are diftin-\\nguifhed for poetical fpirit. In the prophecies of Daniel\\nand Jonah there is no poetry.\\nThe book of Job is extremely ancient the author\\nuncertain and it is remarkable, that it has no con-\\nnexion with the affairs or manners of the Hebrews.\\nIt is the moft defcriptive of all the facred poems. A\\npeculiar glow of fancy and ftrength of defcription\\ncharacterize the author and no writer abounds fo\\nmuch in metaphors. He renders vifible, whatever he\\ntreats. The fcene is laid in the land of Uz, or Idu-\\nmsea, which is a part of Arabia and the imagery\\nemployed differs from that which is peculiar to the\\nHebrews.\\nEPICK POETRY.\\nOi\\nF all poetical works the epick poem is the\\nmoft dignified. To contrive a ftory which is enter-\\ntaining, important, and inftru\u00c2\u00a3Uv\u00e2\u0082\u00ac to enrich it with\\nhappy incidents to enliven it by a variety of char-\\na ers and defcriptions and to maintain a uniform\\npropriety of fentiment, and a due elevation of ftylqi\\nare the highefl efforts of poetical genius.\\nepick poem is the recital of fome iiluftrious en-\\nterprise in a poetical form. Ep:ck poetry is of a mor-", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "^l6 EPICK POETRY*\\nal nature 5 and tends to the promotion of virtue.\\nWith this view it a\u00c2\u00a3ts by extending our ideas of per-\\nfection, and exciting admiration. Now this is ac-\\ncomplifhed only by proper reprefentations of heroick\\ndeeds and virtuous chara ers. Valour, truth, juftice,\\nfidelity, friendfhip, piety, and magnanimity, are ob-\\njects which the epick mufe prefents to our minds in\\n\u00c2\u00a3he mod fplendid and honourable colours,\\nEpick compofition is diftinguifhed from hiftory by\\nits poetical form, and its liberty of fi ion. It is a\\nmore calm compofition than tragedy. It requires a\\ngrave, equal, and fupported dignity. On feme occa-\\niions it demands the pathetick and the violent and\\nit embraces a greater compafsof time and a\u00c2\u00a3Uon than\\ndramatick writing admits.\\nThe a ion or fubjeft of an epick poem rauft have\\nthree properties. It mud be one it muit be great\\nit muft be interefting. One action or enterprize mud\\nconftitute its fubje\u00c2\u00a3t. Ariftotle infifts on unity asef-\\nfentiai to epick poetry; becaufe independent fa\u00c2\u00a3ts never\\naffe 3: fo deeply, as a tale that is one and connefted.\\nVirgil has chofen for his fubje\u00c2\u00a3l the eftablifhment of\\njEneas in Italy and the anger of Achilles, with its\\nconfequences, is the fubje\u00c2\u00a3t of the Iliad.\\nIt is not however to be underitood* that epick unity\\nexcludes all epifodes. On the contrary criticks confidev\\nthem, as great ornaments of epick poetry. They di-\\nversify thefubjeft, and relieve the reader by {hitting\\nthe fcene. Thus He or s vifit to Andromache in the\\nd, and Erminia s adventure with the (hepherd in\\nnth book of the Jerufalem, affords us a well-\\niged and pleafing retreat from camps and battles.\\nSecondly, the fubje-ft of an epick poem mult be fo\\ngreat an did, as to- fix attention, and to juftify", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "EFICK POETRY. 2l J\\nthe magnificent apparatus the poet bellows on it.\\nThe fubject ihould alfo be of ancient date. Both Lu-\\ncan and Voltaire have tranfgreffed this rule. By con-\\nfining himfelf too (trier ly to hiftor al truth, theformer\\ndoes not pleafe and the latter has improperly min-\\ngled well-known events with fictitious. Hence they\\nexhibit not that greatnefs which the epick requires.\\nThe third requifite in aa epick fubje\u00c2\u00a3l is, that it be\\ninterefting. This depends in a great meafure upon\\nthe choice of it. But it depends much more upon the\\nfkilful management of the poet. He mud fo frame\\nhis plan, as to comprehend many affecting incidents*\\nHe mufl fometimes dazzle with valiant achieve-\\nments fometimes he muft be awful and auguft of-\\nten tender and pathetick 3 and he muft fometimes give\\nus gentle and pleafing fcenes of love, friendfnip, and\\naffection.\\nTo render the fubject interefling, much alfo de-\\npends upon the dangers and obftacles which mud be\\nencountered. It is by the management of theft, that\\nthe poet muft roufe attention, and hold his reader in\\nfufpcnie and agitation.\\nIt is generally fappoftd by criucks, that an epick po-\\nem (hould conclude fuccefsfully as an unhappy .eon*\\nmind. Indeed it is en the profV\\npr c ts genjstajiy conclude. But\\nname, Milton and La can, held\\nThe one concludes with the fuh-\\nLily and the other with the ex-\\np.iradife.\\nhe duration\\n10 lefts, ac-\\nThe adtio.rj\\nclufion d(\\n^prciles i\\nperous He\\ne, that e\\ntwo auth\\ners oi gr\\nthe con.tr\\nivy CQUrl\\nvcrfion o;\\nRonaan\\np uliiou o\\ni nun: It\\nNo pre\\nife boui\\nof the\\nacTio\\ncording\\nme", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "2 8 EPICK POETRY.\\nof the Odyfley extends to eight years and a half and\\nthat of the JEneid includes about fix years.\\nThe perfonages in an epick poem fhould be proper\\nand well fupportec They fhould difplay the features\\nof human nature and may admit different degrees\\nof virtue, and even vice though the principal char*\\nackers fhould be fuch as will raife admiration and love.\\nPoetick characters are of two forts, general and partic-\\nular. General characters are fuch as are wife, brave,\\nand virtuous, without any farther difiinetion. Par-\\nticular characters exprefs the fpecies of bravery, of\\nwifdom, and of virtue, for which any one is remarka-\\nble. In this difcrimination of characters, Homer ex-\\ncels. Taflb approaches the neareft to him in this are-\\nfpect and Virgil is the mod deficient.\\nAmong epick poets it is the practice to felect: feme\\nperfonage as the hero of the tale. This renders the\\nunity of the fubject more perfect, and contributes\\nhighly to the interefl and .perfection of the fpecies of\\nwriting. It has been afked, Who then is the hero of\\nParadife Loft The devil, fay fome criticks, who af*\\nfeet to be pleafant againft Milton. But they miftake\\nhis intention by fuppofmg that whoever is triumphant\\nin the clofe, muft he the hero of the poem. For Ad-\\nam is Milton s hero; that is, the capital and- mod in-\\nterefling figure in his poem.\\nIn epick poetry there are befide human characters\\n.gods and fupernaturai beings. This forms what is\\ncalled the machinery of epick poetry and the French\\nfuppofe this effential to the nature of an epick poem.\\nThey hold that in every epick compofition the main ac-\\ntion is neceffarily carried on by the intervention of\\ngods. But there feems to be no folid reafon for their", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "EPICK POETRY. 2 1$\\nopinion. Lucan has no gods, nor fupernatural agents.\\nThe author of Leonidas alfo has no machinery.\\nBut* though machinery is not absolutely nec^flary\\nto the epick plan, it ought not to be totally excluded\\nfrpm it. The marvellous has a great charm for mod\\nreaders. It leads to fublime defcription, and fills the\\nimagination. At the fame time it becomes a poet to\\nbe temperate in the ufe of fupernatural machinery\\nand fo to employ the religious faith or fuperftition of\\nhis country, as to give an air of probability to events\\nmod contrary to the common courfe of nature.\\nWith regard to the allegorical pcrfcnages, fame,\\ndifcord, love, and the like, they form the worit kind\\n\u00c2\u00a9f machinery. In description they may feme-times be\\nallowed but they (bould never bear any part in the\\naction of the poem. As they are only mere names of\\ngeneral ideas 3 they ought not to be considered as per-\\nfbns 5 and cannot mingle with human aclors without\\nan intolerable confuflon of ihadows with realities.\\nIn the narration of the poet, it is of little coiife-\\nquence, whether he relate the whole fiery in his own\\ncharacter, or introduce one of his perfonages to relate\\na part of the a\u00c2\u00a3Uon that pafled before the poem opens.\\nHomer follows one method in his Iliad, and the other\\nin his Odyffey. It is to be obferved however that, if\\nthe narrative be given by any of the actors, it gives\\nthe poet greater liberty of fpreading out fuch parts of\\nthe fubjecl as he inclines to dwell upon in perfon,\\nand of comprifing the reft within a fhort recital.\\nWhen thefubje\u00c2\u00a3t is of great extent, and comprehends\\nthe tranfaelions of feveral years, as in the Ody fley and\\n^Eneidj this method feems preferable. But, when\\nthe fubjec~l is of final ler compafs and Ihorter duration,", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "2 20 HOMERS ILIAR.\\nas in the Iliad and Jerufalem, the poet may, without\\ndifadvantage, relate the whole in his own perfon.\\nWhat is of moft importance in the narration is\\nthat it be perfpicuous, animated, and enriched with ev-\\nery poetick beauty. No fort of compotkion requires\\nmore ftrength, dignity, and fire, than an epick poem.\\nIt is the region in which we look for every thing\\nfublimc in defcription, tender in feritiment, and bold\\nor lively in ex pre (Son. The ornaments of epick poet-\\nry are grave and chaftc.N Nothing ioofe, ludicrous, or\\naffected, finds place there. All the objects it pre-\\nfents ought to be great, tender, or pleating. Dc-\\nfcriptions of difgu fling or (hocking objects are to be\\navoided. Hence the fable of the Harpies in the JEtaekl,\\nand tlie allegory of Sin and Death in Paradife Loft,\\nfhould have been omitted.\\nIIOMZR s ILIAD AND ODYSSEY,\\nHP\\njl HE father of epick poetry is Homer; and hi\\n@rder to reti Si him, we mud dived ourfdves of mod-\\nern ideas of dignity and refinement, and tranfport on?\\nimagination almoft three thou fand years back in the\\nhhlory of mankind. The reader is to expect a picture-\\nof the ancient world. The two great characters of\\nHomer s u jerry are fire and fimplieity. But to have\\na. clear idea of his merit, let us conlHer the Iliad un-\\nder the three heads of the fubjeci or action*, the char-\\nacters and the narration.\\nThe fubjefl of the Iliad h happily chofen. For no\\nfubjeel could be more fplendld than the Trojan wan\\nA great confederacy of the Grecian ftatea and ten", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "HOMER S ILIAD. 2~21\\nrears fiege of Troy mufl have fpread far abroad the\\nrenown of many military exploits, and given an ex-\\ntenfive intereft to the heroes who were concerned in\\nthem. Upon thefe traditions, Homer grounded his\\npoem and, as he lived two or three centuries after\\nthe Trojan war, he had full liberty to intermingle fa-\\nble with Kiftory. He chofe not, however, the whole\\nTrojan war for his fubje\u00c2\u00a3t but with great judgment\\nfelecled the quarrel between Achilles and Agamem-\\nnon, which includes the moft interefting period of the\\nwar. He has thus given greater unity to his poem,\\nHe has gained one hero, or principal character, that\\nis, Achilles and mown the pernicious effecls of dis-\\ncord amonij confederated princes.\\nThe praife of high invention has in every age been^\\njuftly given to Homer. His incidents, fpeeches, char-\\nacters, divine and human his battles, his little hifto--\\nry pieces of the perions fiain, diicover a -b3iind]efs in-\\nvention. Nor is his judgment lets worthy of praife,-\\nHis flory is conduced with great art, lie riles upon\\nus gradually. His heroes are introduced with ex*\\nquifite (kill to our acquaintance. The diflrefs thick-\\nens as the poem, advances; every thing ferves to ag-\\ngrandize Achilles, and to make him the capital figure.\\nIn characters, Homer is without a rival. He abounds\\nin dialogue and converfation, andthis produces a fpirit-\\ned exhibition of his perfohages- This drarnatick meth-\\nod, however, though more natural, expreffive, and an-\\nimated, is lefs grave and majeftiek than narrative.\\nSome of Homers fpeechesare unfeafbnable, and oth-\\ners trifling. With the Greek vivacity he has alio feme\\ncf the Greek loquacity.\\nX 2-", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "222 HOMER s IUAB.\\nIn no chara\u00c2\u00a3ler perhaps does he difplay greater art,\\nthan in that of Helen. Notwithftanding her frailty\\nand crimes, he contrives to make her an interefting ob-\\nject. The admiration with which the old generals\\nbehold her when (he is coming toward them her\\nveiling herfelf and fhedding tears in the prefence of\\nPriam her grief at the fight of Menelaus her up-\\nbraiding of Paris for his cowardice, and her returning\\nfondnefs for him, are exquifite ftrokes, and worthy of\\na great mailer.\\nHomer has been accufed of making Achilles too\\nbrutal a character and criticks feem to have adopted\\nthis cenfure from two lines of Horace\\nImpiger. iracundus, inexorabiiis, acer,\\nJura negat fibi nata nihil nou arrogat armis.\\nIt appears that Horace went beyond the truth. A-\\nchilles is paflionate but he is not a contemner of\\nlaw. lie has reafon on his fide for, though he dif-\\ncovers too much heat, it muft be allowed that he had\\nbeen notorioufly wronged. Befide bravery and con*\\ntempt of death, he has the qualities of opennefs and\\nfincerity. He loves his fubje ts, and refpects the gods.\\nHe is warm in his friend fhips and throughout he is\\nhigh-fpirited, gallant and honourable.\\nHorner s gods made a great figure but his machine-\\nry was not his own invention. He followed the tra-\\nditions of his country. But though his machinery is\\noften lofty and magnificent, yet his gods are often de-\\nficient in dignity. They have all the human paffions\\nthey drink and feaft, and are vulnerable, like men*\\nWhile, however, he at times, degrades his divinities,\\nhz knows how to make them appear with moft awful", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "HOMERS ODYSSEY. 22}\\nmajefty. Jupiter for the mod part is introduced with\\ngreat dignity and feveral of the mod fublime con-\\nceptions in the Iliad are founded on the appearances\\nof Neptune, Minerva, and Apollo.\\nThe ftyle of Homer is eafy, natural, and highly ani-\\nmated. Of all the great poets, he is the molt fimple\\nin his ftyle, and refembles mod the ftyle of the poetic-\\nal parts of the Old Teftament. Pope s tranflation of\\nhim affords no idea of his manner. His verfification\\nhowever is allowed to be uncommonly melodious\\nand to carry beyond that of any pcet refemblance of\\nfound to fenfe.\\nIn narration, Homer is always concife and defcrip-\\ntive. He paints his obje\u00c2\u00a3ts in a manner to our fight-\\nHis battles are Angularly admirable. We fee them\\nin all their hurry, terror, and coni uiion. In Smiles\\nno poet abounds fo much. His companions, howev-\\ner, taken in general, are not his greater! beauties 5,\\nthey come upon us in too quick fuceeffion and often\\ndifturb his narration or description. His lions, bulls,,\\neagles, and herds of Iheep, recur too frequently.\\nThe criticifrn of Longinus upon the OdyiTey is not.\\nwithout foundation that in this poem Homer may\\nbe likened to the fetting fun, whofe grandeur remains\\nwithout the heat of his meridian beams. It wants the\\nvigour and fublimity of the Iliad yet pontiles io many\\nbeauties, as tobejuftly entitled to high praife. It is\\n3 very amufmg poem, and has much greater variety\\nthan the Iliad. It contains many intereiling ftories.\\nand pleafmg pi\u00c2\u00a3lures of ancient manners. Initead of\\nthe ferocity which pervades the liiad,^ it prefents u\\nmod amiable images of humanity and hofpitality. It\\nentertains us with many a wonderful adventure, and", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "224 THE; JSNEID OF VIRGlIi.\\nmany a landfcape of nature and inftrufts-us by\\nrich vein of morality and virtue, running through ev-\\nery part of the poem.\\nThere are fome defc s, however, in the Odyfley\\nMany of its fcenes fall below the. majefly of an epick\\npoem. The laft twelve books are in many places lan-\\nguid and tedious and perhaps the poet is not- happy\\nin the difcovery of UlylTes to Penelope. She is too\\ncautious and diftruftful and we meet not that joyous\\nfurprize, expected on fuch an occafion.\\nTHE iENEIO OE VIRGIL.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00ba1 HE diflinguifbing excellencies of the JEneid\\nare elegance and tendernefs. Virgil is lefs animated\\nand lefs fublime than Homer but he has fewer neg-\\nligences, greater variety, and more dignity. The\\nJEneidhas all the correttnefs and improvements of\\nthe Auguftan age. We meet no contention of he-\\nroes about a female flave no violent fcolding, nor\\nabufive- language; but the poem opens with the uU\\nmod magnificence.\\nThe fubject of the iEneid, which is the eftablifli-*\\nrnent of ^Eneas in Italy, is extremely happy. Notic-\\ning could be more interesting to the Romans than\\nVirgil s deriving their origin from fo famous a hero\\nas iEaeas. The objecT: was fplendid itfelf jit gave\\nthe poet a theme, taken from the traditionary hiltory\\nof his country it allowed him to adopt Homer s\\nmythology-, and afforded him frequent opportunities-\\nof glancing at all the future great exploits of the .Ro-\\nmans, and of defcribing Italy in its ancient and fab^\\nulous flate.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "THE JENEID OF VIRGIL. 22$\\nUnity of a ion is perfectly preferred in the iEneid*\\nThefettlement of iEaeas in Italy by order of the gods\\nis con (land y kept in view. The epifodes are proper-\\nly linked to the main fubje\u00c2\u00a3t and the nodus or in-\\ntrigue of the poem is happily formed. The wrath of\\nJuno, who oppofes iELrieas; gives rife to all his difficul-\\nties, and connefls the human with the celeilial opera*\\ntions through the whole poem.\\nGreat art and judgment are difplaycd in the JEneid*\\nbut even Virgil is not without his faults. One is, that\\nhe has fo few marked characters. Achates, Cloanthes,\\nGyas, and other Trojan heroes, who accompanied.\\njSneas into Italy, are undtainguifhed figures. Even\\nJEneas himfelf is not a very interefling hero. He is\\ndefcribed, indeed, as pious and brave but his charac-\\nter is not marked by thofe lirokes \u00c2\u00a3hat touch the\\nheart. The character of Dido is the beft fupported\\nin the whole JEneid. Her warmth of paiTbn, keen-.\\nnefs of refentment, and violence of character, exhibit\\na more animated figure than any other Virgil has\\ndrawn-\\nThe management of the fuhjecT: alfo is in feme re~\\nfpecls exceprianahle. The nx lad books received not\\nthe finishing hand of the author and for this reafon\\nhe ordered his poem to be committed to the flames.\\nThe wars with the Latins are in dignity inferiour to the\\nmore intereiiing objects previoufly prefented to us\\nand the reader is tempted to take part with Turnus\\nagainft iEneas.\\nThe principal excellency of Virgil, and what he.\\npoflefles beyond all poets is tendemefs. His foul was\\nfull of fenfibiliy. He felt himfelf all the afFe ing-\\ncircurnjlances in the fecnes he defcribes and knevs-", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "226 THE NEID OF VIRGIL.\\nhow by a fingle ftroke to reach the heart. In an epick\\npoem, this merit is next to fublimity. The fecond\\nbook of the JEneid is one of the greatefl mafter-pieces\\never executed.. The death of old Priam, and the fam-\\nily pieces of iEneas, Anchifes, and Creufa, are as\\ntender as can be conceived. In the fourth book, the\\nunhappy paffion and death of Dido are admirable.\\nThe interview of tineas with Andromache and He-\\nlenus in the third book the epifodes of Pallas and\\nEvander, of Nifus and Euryalus, of Laufus and rSlc~\\nzentius, are all ftriking inftances of the power of raif-\\ning the tender emotions. The bed and moft finifhed\\nbooks are the firft, fecond, fourth, fixth, feventh, eighth,\\nand twelfth.\\nVirgil s battles are in fire and fublimity far inferiour\\nto Homer s. But in one important epifode, the de-\\nfcent into hell, he has outdone Homer in the Odyfiey\\nby many degrees. There is nothing in all antiquity,\\nequal in its kind to the fixth book of the iSneid. The\\nfcenery, the obje\u00c2\u00a3ls, and the defcription, are great,\\nfolemnand fublime.\\nWith regard to the comparative merit of thefe two\\ngreat princes of epick poetry, it mull be allowed that\\nHomer was the greater genius, and Virgil the more\\ncorrecl writer. Homer is more original, more bold,\\nmore fublime, and more forcible. In judgment they\\nare both eminent. Homer has all the Greek vivaci-\\nty Virgil all the Roman ftatelinefs. The imagina-\\ntion of Homer is the moft copious that of Virgil\\nthe moll correCt. The ftrength of the former lies, in\\nwarming the fancy that of the latter in touching the\\nheart. Homer s ftyle is more fimple and animated\\nVirgil s more elegant and uniform.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "LUCAN S PHARSALIA. 22?\\nLUCAN s PHARSALIA.\\n-LUCAN is inferiour to Homer and Virgil\\nyet he deferves attention. There is little invention\\nin his Pharfalia 9 and it is conduited in too hiftoricai\\na manner to be ftrictly epick. It may be arranged,\\nhowever in the epick clafs, as it treats of great and he-\\nroick adventures. The fubject of the Pharfalia has all\\nthe epick dignity and grandeur and it pcfllffes unity\\nof object, viz. the triumph of Qefar over Roman lib-\\nerty.\\nBut, though the fubject of Lucan is confeffedly he-\\nroick, it has two defects. Civil war prefents objects\\ntoo (hocking for epick poetry, and furnifh odious and\\ndifgufting views of human nature. But Lucan s ge-\\nnius fee trs to delight in favage fcenes.\\nThe other defect of Lucan s fubject is, that it was\\ntoo near the time in which he lived. This deprived\\nhim of the afiiftance of fiction and machinery and\\nthereby rendered his work iefs fplendid and amufing.\\nThe facts on which he founds his poem, were too\\nwell known, and too recent to admit fables and the in-\\nterposition of gods.\\nThe characters of Lucan are drawn with fpirit and\\nforce. But, though Pornpey is his hero, he has not\\nmade him very interefting. He marks not Pompey\\nby any high diftinction, either for magnanimity or val-\\nour, He is always furpaffed by Ccefar. Cato, is Lu-\\ncan s favourite character and, whenever he intro-\\nduces him, he rifes above himfelf\\nIn managing his ftory, Lucan confines himfelf too\\nmuch to chronological order. This breaks the thread", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "228 lucan s pharsalia.\\nof his narration, and hurries him from place to place.\\nHe is alfo too digreffive frequently quitting his fub-\\nje\u00c2\u00a3t, to give us fome geographical defcription, or phi-\\nlofophical difquifition.\\nThere are feveral poetical and fpirited defcriptions\\nin the Pharfalia but the flrength of this poet does\\nnot lie either in narration or defcription. His narra-\\ntion is often dry and harlh his defcriptions are often\\noverwrought, and employed on difagreeable objetts.\\nHis chief merit con fills in his fentiments which are\\nnoble, ftriking, glowing, and ardent. He is the moll\\nphilosophical, and the moll patriotick poet of antiquity.\\nHe was a ftoick and the fpirit of that philofophy\\nbreathes through his poem. He is elevated and\\nbold j and abounds in well-timed exclamations and\\napoftrophes.\\nAs his vivacity and fire are great, he is apt to be\\ncarried away by them. His great defe\u00c2\u00a3l is want of\\nmoderation. He knows not where to (lop. When\\nhe would aggrandize his objects, he becomes tumid\\nand unnatural. There is much bombafl in his\\npoem. His tafte is marked with the corruption of\\nhis age and, inftead of poetry^ he often exhibits\\ndeclamation.\\nOn the whole, however he is an author of lively\\nand original genius. His high fentiments and his fire\\nferve to atone for many of his defects. H is genius\\nhad ftrength, but no tendernefs, nor amenity. Coo\\npared with Virgil, he has more fire and fublimer fenti-\\nments; but in every thing eK? falls infinitely below him,\\nparticularly in purity, elegance, and tendernefs.\\nStatins and Silius Italic us, though poets of the\\nepuk ckus, are tco inconsiderable for particular crit-\\nicifrn.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "TASSO S JERUSALEM.\\nTASSG s JERUSALEM.\\nJERUSALEM delivered is a ftnclly reg-\\nular epick poem, and abounds with beauties. The\\nSubject is the recovery of Jerufalem from Infidels by\\nthe united powers of Chriftendom. The enterprise\\nwas fplendid, venerable* and heroick and an intereft-\\ning contrail is exhibited between the Chriftians and\\nSaracens. Religion renders the Subject auguft, and\\nopens a natural field for machinery and Sublime de-\\nscription. The action tGO lies in a country, and in a\\nperiod of time, Sufficiently remote to admit an inter-\\nmixture of fable with hiitory.\\nRich invention is a capital quality in Taffo. He is\\nfull of events, finely diverfified. He never fatigues\\nhis reader by mere war and fighting. He frequently\\nfhifts the fcene and from camps and battles tranf-\\nports us to more pleating objects* Sometimes the\\nfolemnities of religion Sometimes the intrigues of\\nlove at other times the adventures of a journey, or\\nthe incidents of paftoral life, relieve and entertain the\\nreader. The work at the fame time is artfully con-\\nnected j and, in the midfl of variety, there is perfect\\nunity of plan.\\nMany characters enliven the poem and thefe dis-\\ntinctly marked and well fupported. Godfrey, the\\nleader of the enterprize, is prudent, moderate, and\\nbrave Tailored amorous, generous, and gallant. Ri-\\nnaldo, who is properly the hero of the poem, is paf-\\nfionate and refentful but full of zeal, honour, and\\nheroifm. Solyman is high minded Erminia tender\\nArmida artful and violent, and Clorinda mafculin**", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "23^ TASSO S JERUSALEM.\\nIn drawing characters, Taflb is fuperiour to Virgil, and\\nyields to no poet but Homer.\\nHe abounds in machinery. When celeftial beings\\niiiterpofe, his machinery is noble. But devils, en\u00c2\u00bb\\nchanters, and conjurors aft too great a part throughout\\nhis poem. In general, the marvellous is carried to ex*\\ntravagance. The poet was too great an admirer of\\nthe romantick fpirit of knight-errantry.\\nIn defcribing magnificent objects, his ftyle is firm\\nand majeftick. In gay and pleafing defcription, it is\\nfoft and infinuating. Erminia s paftoral retreat in the\\nfeventh book, and the arts and beauty of Arrnida in\\nthe fourth book, are exquifitely beautiful. His battles\\nare animated, and properly varied by incidents. It is\\nrather by actions, characters, and defcriptions,that he\\ninterefis us, than by the fentimental part of his work.\\nHe is far inferiour to Virgil in tendernefs and, when\\nhe aims at being fentimental and pathetic.k, he is apt to\\nbecome artificial.\\nit has been often obje\u00c2\u00a3ied to Tafib, that he abounds\\nin point and conceit but this cenfure has been car-\\nried too far. For, in his general character, he is maf-\\nculine and ftrong. The humour of decrying him pi fl-\\ned from the French criticks to thofe of England. But\\ntheir ftri ures are founded either in ignorance or\\nprejudice. For the JerufahmiS} in my opinion, the\\nthird regular epick poem in the world and (lands next\\nto the Iliad and iEneid. In simplicity and fire Taflb\\nis inferiour to Horner, in tendernefs to Virgil; in fub-\\nlimity to Milion but for fertility of invention, vari-\\nety of incidents, expreffion of characters, richnefs of\\ndescription, and beauty of ftyle, no poet, except the\\nthree jufl named, can be compared to him,", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "THE LUSIAD OF CAMOENS. 23I\\nTHE LUSIAD OF CAMOENS.\\nX HE Portuguefe boaft of Camoens, as the Ital-\\nians do of TaflTo. The difcovery of the Eail-Indies by\\nVafco cle G*ma, an enterprise alike fplendid and in-\\nteresting, is the fubjsct of the poem of Camoens.\\nThe adventures, diftreffd and actions of Vafco and\\nhis countrymen, are well fancied and defcribed and\\nthe Lufiad is conduced on the epick plan. The inci\\ndents of the poem are magnificent and, joined with\\nfome wildncfs and irregularity, there is difplayed in it\\nmuch poetick fpirit, flrong fancy, and bold ciefcripttoii.\\nIn the poem, however, there is no attempt toward\\npainting chara ers. Vafco is the hero, and the only\\nplrfonage that makes any figure.\\nThe machinery of the Luiiad is perfectly extrava-\\ngant being formed of an odd mixture of Cfariftian\\nideas and Pagan mythology, Pagan divinities appear\\nto be the deities and Chrilt and the Holy Virgin to\\nbe inferiour agents. One great object, howerer, of the\\nPortuguefe expedition is to extend the empire of\\nChriitianity, and to extirpate Mahometanifm. In this\\nreligious undertaking the chief protector of the Portu-\\nguefe is Venus, and their great adverfary is Bacchus.\\nJupiter is introduced, as foretelling the downfal of\\nMahomet. Vafco during a ftorm implores the aid of\\nChrilt and the Virgin and in return to this prayer\\nus appears, and. dtfeov^ring the ftoriri to be the\\nof Bacchus, complains to Jupiter, and procures\\ntkie winds to be calmed. AH this is mod prepoiter-\\nous but, toward the end of his work, the poet offers\\nan awkward apology for his mythology making the", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "232 THE TELEMACHUS OF FENELON.\\ngoddefs Thetes inform Vafco, that fbe and the other\\nheathen divinities are no more than names to defcribe\\nthe operations of Providence.\\nIn the Lufiad, however, there is fome fine machine-\\nry of a different kind. The appearance of the genius\\nof the river Ganges in a dream to Emanuel king of\\nPortugal, inviting him to difcover his fecret fpyiagf,\\nand acquainting him that he was the monarch, deftin-\\ned to enjoy the treafures of the Baft, is a happy idea.\\nBut in the fifth canto, the poet difplays his nobleft con-\\nception of this fort, where Vafco recounts to the king\\nof Melinda all the wonders of his voyage. He tells\\nhim that, when the fleet arrived at the Cape of Good\\nHope, which had never beea doubled before by any\\nnavigator, there appeared to them fuddenly a huge\\nphantom, rifing out of the tea in the midft of tempeft.\\nand thunder, with a head that reached the clouds and\\na countenance, that filled them with terror. This was\\nthe genius of that hitherto unknown ocean and he\\nmenaced them in a voice of thunder for invading thofe\\nunknown feas foretelling the calamities that were to\\nbefal them, if they {hould proceed and then with a\\nmighty noife difappeared. This is a very folemn and\\nftriking piece of machinery and (hows that Camoens\\nwas a poet of a bold and lofty imagination.\\nTHE TELEMACHTJS OF FENELON,\\nXT would be unpardonable in a review of epick\\npoets to forget the amiable Fenelon. His work,\\nthough in profe, is a poem j and the plan in general", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "THE TELEMACHtfS OF FENELON. 233\\nis well contrived, having epick grandeur and unity of\\na\u00c2\u00a3tion. Reemploys the ancient mythology and ex-\\ncels in application of it. There is great richnefs as\\nwell as beauty in his defcriptions. To foft and calm\\nfcenes, his genius is more peculiarly fuited fuch as\\nthe incidents of paftoral life, the pleafures of virtue,\\nor a country flourifhing in peace.\\nHis firft books are eminently excellent. The ad-\\nventures of Calypfo are the chief beauty of his work.\\nVivacity and interefl join in the narration. In the\\nbooks which follow, there is lefs happinefs in the exe-\\ncution, and an apparrent languor. The author in war-\\nlike adventures is mo ft unfortunate.\\nSome criticks have refufed to rank this work among\\nepick poems. Their objection arifes from the minute\\ndetails it exhibits of virtuous policy, and from the dif--\\ncourfes of Mentor, which recur too frequently, and too\\nmuch in the drain of common place morality. To\\nthefe peculiarities, however, the author was led by the\\ndefign with which he wrote, that of forming a young\\nprince to the cares and duties of a virtuous monarch.\\nSeveral epick poets have defcribed a defcent into\\nhell and in the profpecls they have given us of the\\ninvifible world, we may obferve the gradual refine-\\nment in the opinions of men concerning a future flfate\\nof rewards and punimments. Horner s defcent of U-\\nlyfles into hell is indiftincr, and dreary. The fee ne is\\nin the country of the Cimmerians, which is always\\ncovered with clouds and darknefs and, when the\\nfpirits of the dead appear, we hardly know whether\\nUlyiTes is above or below ground. The ghofis too,\\neven of the heroes, appear diflatisfied with their cqu*\\ndition.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "234 THE HENRIADE OF VOLTAIRE.\\nIn Virgil the defcent info hell difcovers great refing*\\nment, correfponding to the progrefs of philofophy.\\nThe objects are more diftinft, grand, and awful.\\nThere is a fine defcription of the feparate manfions\\nof good and bad fpirits. Fenelon s yifit of Telemachus\\nto the fhades is (till much more philosophical thaa\\nVirgil s. He refines the ancient mythology by his\\nknowledge of the true religion, and adorns it with\\nthat beautiful enthufiafm, for which he is fo remarka-\\nble. His relation of the happinefs of the juft is an\\nexcellent defcription in the myflick drain.\\nTHE HENRIADE OF VOLTAIRE.\\nJL HE Henriade is without doubt a regular epic k\\npoem. In feveral places of this work, Voltaire difcov-\\ners that boldnefs of conception, that vivacity and live-\\nlinefs of expreili on, by which he is fo much diftinguifrw\\ned. Several of his companions are new and happy.\\nBut the Henriade is not his mafter-pieee. In the tragick\\nline he has certainly been more fuccefsful, than in the\\nepick. French veifification is illy fuited to epick poetry.\\nIt is not only fettered by rhyme, but wants elevation.\\nHence not only feeblenefs, but fometknes profaick flat-\\nnefs in the ftyle. The poem confequently languishes\\nand the reader- is not animated by that fpirit which is\\ninfpiredby a fublime compofition of the epick kind.\\nThe triumph of Henry IV. over the arms of the\\nLeague is the fubje\u00c2\u00a3l of the Henriade. The aflion of\\nthe poem properly includes only the fiege of Paris. It\\nis an action perfectly epick and conducted with due", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "warn\\nTltE HENRI ADE OF VOLTAIRE. 235\\nregard to unity, and to the rules of criticks. But it has\\ngreat defects. It is founded on civil wars and pre-\\nfents to the mind thofe odious objects, maffacres and\\naflaffinations. It is alfo of too recent date, and too\\nmuch within the bounds of well-known hiftory. The\\nauthor has farther erred by mixing fi\u00c2\u00a3lion with truth.\\nThe poem, for inftance, opens with a voyage \u00c2\u00a9f Hen-\\nry s to England, and an interview between him and\\nQueen Elizabeth though Henry never faw England,\\nnor ever converfed with Elizabeth. In fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts of\\nfuch notoriety a fiction of this kind (hocks every in-\\ntelligent reader.\\nA great deal of machinery is employed by Voltaire\\nfor the purpofe of embellifhing his poem. But it is of\\nthe word kind, that of allegorical beings. Difcord,\\ncunning, and love appear as perfonages, and mix\\nwith human actors. This is contrary to all rational\\ncriticifm. Ghofts, angels, and devils, have a popular\\nexiftence but every one knows that allegorical beings\\nare no more than reprefentations of human paffions\\nand difpofltions and ought not to have place, as aft-\\ners, in a poem which relates to human tranfaclions*\\nIn juftice however it muft be obferved, that the ma-\\nchinery of St. Louis poffefles real dignity. The prot\\npe\u00c2\u00a3t of the invifible world, which St. Louis gives to\\nHenry in a dream, is the fineft paffage in the Henriade*.\\nDeath bringing the fouls of the departed in fucceffion\\nbefore God, and the palace of the defttnies opened to\\nHenry, are ftriking and magnificent cbjedts.\\nThough fome of Voltaire s epifodes are properly ex-\\ntended, his narration is too general. The events are\\nfuperficially related, and too much crowded. Th s\\nftrain offentiment, however, which pervades, the Hen-\\nHade, is 1 high and noble.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "%-$6 MILTOnY PARADISE LOST.\\nMILTON s PARADISE LOST.\\nIVXlLTON chalked out anew and very extra-\\nordinary courfe. As foon as we open his Paradife\\nLoft, we are introduced into an invifible world, and\\nfurrounded by celeftial and infernal beings. Angels\\nand devils are not his machinery, but his principal\\nattors. What in any other work would be the marvel-\\nlous, is in this the natural courfe of events and doubts\\nmay arife, whether his poem be ftrifUy an epick compc\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nfition. But whether it be fo or not it is certainly one\\nof the higheft efforts of poetical genius y and in one\\ngreat characleriftick of epick poetry, majefty and fublim-\\nity, is equal to any that bears this name.\\nThe fubjett of his poem led Milton upon difficult-\\nground. If it had been more human and lefs theolog-\\nical if his occurrences had been more connected\\nwith real life if he had afforded a greater difplay of\\nthe characters and pailions of men his poem would\\nhave been more pieafing to mod readers. His fubjecY\\nhowever was peculiarly fuited to the daring fubiimity\\nof his genius. As he alone was fitted for it, fo he\\nhas mown in the conduit of it a wonderful ftretch of\\nimagination and invention. From a few hints given\\nin the facred fcripture, he has raifed a regular flruc-\\nture, and filled his poem with a variety of incidents.\\nHe is fometimes dry and harfh and too often the\\nmetaphyfician and divine. But the general tenor of\\nhis work is ir ig, elevated and affecting. The\\nartful change of his obje\u00c2\u00a3ts, and the fcene, laid now in\\nheaven, now on earth, and now in hell, afford fuffieient\\ndiverfity y while unity of plan is perfectly fupported.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "milton s paradise lost. 237\\nCalm fcenes are exhibited in the employments of Adam\\nand Eve in Paradife and bufy fcenes, and great ac-\\ntions in the enterprizes of Satan, and in the wars of\\nangels. The amiable innocence of our firrt parents,\\nand the proud ambition of Satan, afford a happy con-\\ntrail through the whole poem, which gives it an un-\\ncommon charm. But the conclufion perhaps is too\\ntragiek for epick poetry.\\nThe fub; td: naturally admits no great dilplay of\\ncharafters but fuch as could be introduced, are\\nproperly fupported. Satan makes a ftrikmg figure;\\nand is the bed drawn character in the poem. Milton\\nhas artfully given him a mixed character, not altogeth-\\ner void of fome good qualities. He is brave, and\\nfaithful to his troops* Amid his impiety, he is not\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2without remorfe. He is even touched with pity for\\nour firft parents and from the necefiity of his ntuation\\njuftifies his defign againil them, He is actuated by\\nambition and refentment, rather than by pure malice.\\nThe characters of Beelzebub, Moloch, and Beliel, are\\nwell painted. The good angels, though defcribed\\nwith dignity, have more uniformity of character. A\\nmong them, however, the mild condefcenfion of Ra-\\nphael, and the tried fidelity of Abdiel, form proper\\nchara\u00c2\u00a3teriftick distinctions. The attempt to defcribe\\nGod Almighty himfelf was too bold, and accordingly\\nmoft unfuccefsful. The innocence of our firft pa-\\nrents is delicately painted. In fome fpeeches perhaps\\nAdam appears too knowing and refined for his fi tu-\\nition. Eve is hit off more happily. Her gentlenefs,\\nmodefty, and frailty, are expreffively characteriftick 0!\\nfche female character.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "23 8 milton s paradise lost.\\nMilton s great and diftinguifhing excellence is his\\nfublimity. In this, perhaps, he excels even Homer.\\nThe firil and fecond books of Paradife Loft, are al-\\nmoft a continued feries of the higheft fublime. But\\nhis fublimity differs from that of Homer which is al-\\nways accompanied by impetuoilty and fire. The fub-\\nlime of Milton is a calm and amazing grandeur. Ho-\\nmer warms and hurries us along; Milton fixes us in a\\nftate of elevation and aftonifli nent. Homer s fublim-\\nity appears mod in his defcription of actions Milton s\\nin that of wonderful and Stupendous objefts.\\nBut, while Milton excels mod in fublimity, his\\nAvork abounds in the beautiful, the pleafing, and the\\ntender. When the Ccqxxq is in Paradife, the imagery\\nis gay and frniling. His descriptions Show a fertile im-\\nagination and in his fimiles he is remarkably happy*\\nIf faulty, it is from their too frequent allufions to mat-\\nters of learning, and to ancient fables. It muft alfo\\nbe confeffed, that there is a falling off in the latter\\npart of Paradife Loft.\\nThe language and verfification of Milton have high\\nmerit. His blank verfe is harmonious and diverfiiied j\\nand his ftyle is full of majefty. There may be found\\nindeed ibme profaick lines in his poem. But in a work\\nfo long and fo harmonious thefe may be forgiven.\\nParadife Loft, amid beauties of every kind, has many\\ninequalities. No high and daring genius was ever uni-\\nformly correct. Milton is too frequently theological\\nand metaphyseal his words are often technical j and\\nhe is affe\u00c2\u00a3iedly oftentatious of his learning. Many of\\nhis faults however are to be imputed to the pedantry\\nof his age. He difcovers a vigour, a grafp of genius", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "DRAMATICK POETRY. 239\\nequal to every thing great fometimes he rifes above\\nevery other poet j and fometimes he falls below him-\\nfelf.\\nDRAMATICK POETRY. TRAGEDY.\\nii\\nLN all civilized nations dramatick poetry has\\nbeen a favourite amufement. It divides itfeif into the\\ntwo forms of tragedy and comedy. Of thefe, trage-\\ndy is the mod dignified as great and ferious objects\\nintereft us more than little and ludicrous ones. The\\nformer reft s on the high paffions, the virtues, crimes,\\nand fufftrings of mankind the latter on their hu-\\nmours, follies, and pleafures and ridicule is its fole\\ninstrument.\\nTragedy is a direct imitation of human manners and\\na\u00c2\u00a3lions. It does not, like an epick poem, exhibit char-\\nacters by defcription or narration it fets the perfon-\\nages before us, and makes them a\u00c2\u00a3t and fpeak with pro-\\npriety. This fpecies of writing therefore requires\\ndeep knowledge of the human heart and, when hap-\\npily executed, it has the power of raifing the ftrongeft\\nemotions.\\nIn its general drain and fpirit, tragedy is favourable\\nto virtue. Characters of honour claim our refpeft arid\\napprobation and, to raife indignation, we muft paint\\na perfon in the odious colours of vice and depravity.\\nVirtuous men, indeed, are often reprefented by the\\ntragick poet as unfortunate for this happens in real\\nlife. But he always engages our hearts in their be-\\nhalf and never reprefents vice as finally triumphant\\nand happy. Upon the fame principle, if bad men", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "240 MLAMATICK POETRY.\\nfucceed in their defigns, they are yet finally condu ed\\nto punifhment. It may therefore be concluded that\\ntragedies are moral compofitions.\\nIt is affirmed by Ariftotle, that the defign of tragedy\\nis to purge our paffions by means of pity and terror.\\nBut perhaps it would have been more accurate, to have\\nfaid, that the obje\u00c2\u00a3l of this fpecies of composition is to\\nimprove our virtuous fenfibility. If a writer excite our\\npity for the afflicted, infpireus with proper fentiments\\non beholding the viciffitudes of life, and Simulate us\\nto avoid the misfortunes of others by exhibiting their\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0errors, he has acconiplifhed all the moral purpofes o\u00c2\u00a3\\ntragedy.\\nIn a tragedy it is neceffary to have an interefting\\nftory, and that the writercondu\u00c2\u00a3t it in a natural and\\nprobable manner. For the end of tragedy is not fo\\nmuch to elevate the imagination, as to affe\u00c2\u00a3t the\\nheart. This principle, which is founded on the\\ncleared reafon, excludes from tragedy all machinery,\\nor fabulous intervention of gods. Ghofts alone from\\ntheir foundation in popular belief, have maintained\\ntheir place in tragedy.\\nTo promote an impreffion of probability, the (lory\\nof a tragedy, according to fome criticks, mould never be\\na pure fiction, but ought to be built on real facts.\\nThis, however, is carrying the matter too far. For\\nfi itious tale, if properly conducted, will melt the\\nheart as much as real hiftory. Hence the tragick poet\\nmixes many fictitious circumftances with well known\\nfa\u00c2\u00a3is\u00c2\u00ab Moll readers never think of feparating the hit*\\ntorical from the fabulous. They attend only to what\\nis probable, and are touched by events, that refemble\\nnature. Accordingly fome of the mod affecting trag-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "DRAMATIC* POETRY. 24 1\\ncdies arc entirely fi\u00c2\u00a3titious in their fubje s. Such\\nare the Fair Penitent, Douglas, and the Orphan.\\nIn its origin, tragedy was rude and imperfeft. A-\\nmong the Greeks it was at firft nothing more than the\\nfong which was furrg at the feitival of Bacchus.\\nThefe fongs were fometimes fang by the whole compa-\\nny, and fometimes by feparate bands, anfwering alter-\\nnately to each other, and making a chorus. To gu T e\\nthis entertainment fome variety, Thefpis, who lived a-\\nbout five hundred years before the Chriftian era, in-\\ntroduced a perfon between the fongs, who made a re-\\ncitation in verfe. JEfchylus, who lived fifty years af-\\nter him, introduced a dialogue between two perfons\\nor a\u00c2\u00a3tors, comprehending fome interefting fiory and\\nplaced them on a ftage adorned with fcenerj% The\\ndrama now began to ailume a regular form 5 and was\\nfoon after brought to perfection by Sophocles and\\nEuripides,\\nIt thus appears that the chorus wa$ the foundation\\nof tragedy. But, what is remarkable, the dramatick\\ndialogue, which was only an addition to it, at length\\nbecame the principal part of the entertainment and\\nthe chorus, lofing its dignity, came to be accounted on-\\nly an acceiTory in tragedy. At iaft, in modern trag-,\\nedy, it has entirely difappeared and its abfence from\\nthe (tage, forms the chief distinction between the an-\\ncient and modern drama.\\nThe chorus, it mult be allowed, rendered tragedy\\nmore magnificent, instructive, and moral. But on the\\nother hand it was unnatural, and leffened the intereft\\nof the piece. It removed the reprefemation from the\\nrefemblance of life. It has accordingly been with\\npropriety excluded from the ftage.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "242 DRAMATICK POETRY.\\nThe three unities of a\u00c2\u00a3tion, place, and time, have\\nbeen confidered, as effential to the proper condu\u00c2\u00a3t of\\ndramatick fable. Of thefe three, unity of a\u00c2\u00a3tion is un-\\ndoubtedly moft important. This confifts in the rela-\\ntion which all the incidents introduced bear to fome\\ndefign or effeft, combining them naturally into one\\nwhole. This unity of fubje\u00c2\u00a3l is moft effential to trag-\\nedy. For a multiplicity of plots, by di(tra\u00c2\u00a3Ung the at-\\ntention, prevents the paffions from rifing to any height.\\nHence the abfurdify of two independent a\u00c2\u00a3tions in\\nthe fame play. There may indeed be underplots i\\nbut the poet fiiould make thefe fubfervient to the\\nmain aftion. They fhould confpire to bring forward\\nthe cataflrophe of the play.\\nOf a feparate and independent aftion, or intrigue,\\nthere is a clear example in Addifon s Cato. The fub-\\nje of this tragedy is the death of Cato, a noble per-\\nfonage, and fupported by the author with much digni-\\nty. But all the love-fcenes in the play the paffibn\\nof Cato s two fons for Lucia, and that of Juba for\\nCato s daughter, are mere epifodes. They break the\\nunity of the fubjeft, and form a very unfeafonable\\njunftion of gallantry with high fentiments of patri-\\notifm.\\nUnity of action muft not, however, be confounded\\nwith fimplicity of plot. Unity and fimpiicity import\\ndifferent things in dramatick compofition. The plot is\\nfimple, wlien a fmall number of incidents is introduc-\\ned into it. With refpeci to plots, the ancients were\\nmore fimple than the moderns. The Greek trage-\\ndies appear, indeed, to be too naked, and defiitute of\\nintereilmg events. The moderns admit a much great-\\ner variety of incidents j which is certainly an improve-", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "DRAMATICS POETRY. 243\\nment, as it renders the entertainment more animated\\nand more inftructive. It may, however, be carried\\ntoo far for an overcharge of action and intrigue pro*\\nduces perplexity and embarraiTment. Of this, the\\nMourning Bride of Congreve is an example. The in-\\ncidents fucceed each other too rapidly and the cataf-\\ntrophe, which ought to be plain and fimple, is artificial\\nand intricate.\\nUnity of action mufl be maintained, not only in\\nthe general conftruttion of the fable, but in all the\\na\u00c2\u00a3ts and fcenes of the play. The divifion of every\\nplay into five a\u00c2\u00a3ts is founded merely on common\\npractice, and the authority of Horace\\nNeve minor, neu fit quinto produtftior a 5Ui\\nFabula.\\nThere is nothing in nature which fixes this rule.\\nOn the Greek ltage the divifion by a\u00c2\u00a3ts was unknown.\\nThe word aft never occurs once in the Poeticks of\\nAriitotle. Practice, however, has eftablifhed this di-\\nvifion and the poet muft be careful that each a\u00c2\u00a3t\\nterminate in a proper place. The firft a\u00c2\u00a3t {hould\\ncontain a clear expofition of the fubjeCt. It (hould\\nexcite curiofity, and introduce the perfonages to the\\nacquaintance of the fpectators. During the fecond^\\nthirds and fourth acts, the plots fhould gradually thick-\\nen. The paiiions (hould be kept conftantly awake.\\nThere (hould be no fcenes of idle converfation or\\nmere declamation. The fufpenfe and concern of the\\nfpedtators fhould be excited more and more. This is\\nthe great excellency of Shakefpeare. Sentiment, paf-\\nfion, pity, and terror, (hould pervade every tragedy.\\nIn the fifth act, which is the feat of the cataftrophe.\\nthe author (hould moft fully difplay his art and genius-.*", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "244 BRAMATICK POETRY.\\nThe firfi requifite is, that the unravelling \u00c2\u00a9f the plot\\nbe brought about by probable and natural means, Sec-\\nondly, the cataftrophe fhould be fimple, depending on\\nfew events^ and including but few perfons. Paffionate\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2fenfibility languishes when divided among many objects.\\nLaftly, in the cataftrophe every thing should be warm\\nand glowing arid the poet mutt be fi tuple, ferious,\\nand pathedck; uGng no language but that of nature.\\nIt is net efTential to the cataftrophe of a tragedy,\\nIthat it end happily, Sufficient diftrefs and agitation,.\\nwith many tender emotions, may be raifed in the\\neourie of the play, But in general the fpirit of trag-\\nedy leans to the fi:!e oi leaving the impreffion of virtu-\\nous fprrc;-w nvongupen the miia\\nA cuviour quell ion here occurs How happens it\\nrho: the emotions of hffow In tragedy afford gratifr*\\ncancr, to the mind It (terns tube the confutation of\\n\u00c2\u00a9lit nature, that all the (octal paffions ihouid be attend-\\ned with pleafure. Hence nothing is more pleafing\\ntitan iove a\u00c2\u00bbd friendfkip* Pity is for wile ends a ftrong-\\ninftinft and it neceflarily produces fome diftrefs on\\naccount of its fympathy with fufferers.- The heart is\\nst the fame moment warmed by kindnefs, and affiifted\\nby diftrefs. Upon the whole, the Hate of the mind\\nis agreeable. We are pjeafed with oarfelves, not on-\\nly for our benevolence, but for our fenftbility* The\\npain of fympathy is alfo diminifhed by recollecting\\nthat the diftrefs is not real; and by the power of\\naft ion and fentiment, of language and poetry.\\nAfter treating of the a\u00c2\u00a3ls of a play it is proper to\\nnotice the fcenes. The entrance of a new perfon up-\\non the ftage, forms what is called a new fcene. Thefe\\nJcenes, or fucceffive converfations, fhould be clofely", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "BRIM ATI CK POETUYV 245.\\nconnected and much of the art of dramatick compo-\\nsition confifts in maintaining this connexion. For\\nthis purpofe two rules rnuft be obferved. 1. During\\nthe courfe of one aft the ftage fliould never be left\\nempty a moment, for this would make a gap in the\\nreprefentation. Whenever the ftage is evacuated, the\\naft is clofed. This rule is generally obferved by\\nFrench tragedians but it is much neglefted by the\\nEnglifh. 2. No perfon fhould come upon the ftage,\\nor leave it, without feme apparent reafon. If this rule\\nbe neglefted, the dramatis perfonae are little better\\nthan fo many puppets; for the drama profeffes imi-\\ntation of real tranfaftions.\\nTo unity of aftion, criticks have added the unities i\\nof time and place. Unity of place requires the fcene\\nnever to be fh if ted that the action of the play con*\\nthine in the fame place where it began. Unity of\\ntime, ftriftly taken, requires that the time of the ac-\\ntion be no longer than the time allowed for the rep-\\nrefentation of the play. Ariftotle, however* permits\\nthe aft ion to comprehend a whole day. Thefe rules\\nare intended to bring the imitation nearer to reality.\\nAmong the Greeks there was no divrfion of afls.-\\nIn modern times the praftice has prevailed of f uf pend-\\ning the fpeftacle fome little time between the afts.\\nThis praftice. gives latitude to the imagination, and!\\nrenders ftrift confinement to time and place lefs necef*\\niary. Upon this account therefore too ftrift an ob-\\nfervance of thefe unities (hould not be preferred to\\nhigher beauties of execution, nor to the iatroduftion\\nof more pathetick fituations. But tranfgre (lions of.\\nthefe unities, though they may be often advantageous,,\\ngught not to be too frequent/ nor. violent. Hurrying;\\nw. 2", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "246 TRAGEDY.\\nthe fpc ator from one diftant city to another, or\\nmaking feveral days or weeks pafs during the repre-\\nfentation, would fhock the imagination too much, and\\ntherefore cannot be allowed in a dramatick writer.\\nHaving examined dramatick a\u00c2\u00a3tion, we fliall now\\nattend to the charafters moft proper to be exhibited\\nin a tragedy. Several criticks affirm that the nature of\\ntragedy requires the principal perfonages to be always\\nof high or princely rank 5 as the fufferings of fuch\\nperfons feize the heart the moft forcibly. But this is\\nmore fpecious than folid. For the diftreffes of Def-\\ndemona, Monimia, and Belvidera, intereft us as much\\nas if they had been princeffes or queens. It is fuffi-\\ncient, that in tragedy there be nothing degrading or\\nmean in the perfonages exhibited. High rank may\\nrender the fpeciacle more fplendid but it is the talc\\nitfelf, and the art of the poet, that make it intereft-\\ning and pathetick.\\nIn defcribing his chara erg, the poet fhould be\\niareful fo to order the incidents which relate to them,\\nas to imprefs the fpe\u00c2\u00a3tators with favourable ideas of\\nvirtue, and of the divine adminiftration. Pity fhould\\nbe raifed for the virtuous in diftrefs and the author\\nfhould ftudioufly beware of making fuch reprefenta-\\ntions of life as would render wtue an object of aver-\\nSon.\\nUnmixed, ciiarp.QerSj either of good or ill men, are\\niot, in the opinion of Ariftotie, fit for tragedy. For\\nthe diftreffes of the former, as unmerited, hurt us\\nand the fufferings of the latter excite no compaffion.\\nMixed charafters afford the beft field for difplaying,\\nwithout injury to morals, the viciffitudes of life.\\nThey intereft us the moft deeply 5 and their diftreffes,", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "are moft inftru\u00c2\u00a3Uve when reprefented as fptinging\\nout of their own paffions, or as originating in fome\\nweaknefs incident to human nature.\\nThe Greek tragedies are often founded on mere def-\\ntiny and inevitable misfortunes. Modern tragedy aims\\nat a higher obje\u00c2\u00a3t, and takes a wider range as it\\n(hows the direful effects of ambition, jealoufy, love,\\nrefentment, and every ftrong emotion. But of all the\\npaffions which furnifh matter for tragedy, love has\\nmoft occupied the modern ftage. To the ancient the-\\natre love was almoft unknown. This proceeded from\\nthe national manners of the Greeks, which encourag-\\ned a greater feparation of the fexes than takes place ia\\nmodern times and did not admit female a \u00c2\u00a31 or s upon\\nthe ancient ftage a circumftance which operated\\nagainft the introduction of love-ftories. No folidrea-\\nfon, however, can be afligned for this predominancy\\n\u00c2\u00a9f love upon the ftage* Indeed it not only limits the\\nnatural/extent of tragedy, but degrades its majefty.\\nMixing it with the great and folemn revolutions of\\nhuman fortune, tends to give tragedy the air of gallant-\\nry and juvenile entertainment. Without any affift-\\nance from love, the drama is capable of producing its\\nhigheft effects upon the mind.\\nBefide the arrangement of his fubje and the con-\\ndu\u00c2\u00a3fc of his perfonages, the tragick poet muft attend to\\nthe propriety of his fentiinents. Thefe muft be fuit-\\ned to the characters of the perfons to whom they are\\nattributed, and to the fituations in which they are\\nplaced. It is chiefly in the pathetick parts, that the\\ndifficulty and importance of this rule are greatefK\\nWe go to a tragedy, expe\u00c2\u00a3ling to be moved and, i\u00c2\u00a3\\nthe goct cannot reach the. hearty he has no tragick .raex^", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "24^ TRAGEDY.\\nit and we return cold and difappointed from the,\\nperformance.\\nTo paint and to excite paflion ftrongly, are preroga-\\ntives of genius. They require not only ardent fenfi-\\nbility, but the power of entering deeply into charac-\\nters. It is here that candidates for the drama are leaf!\\nfuccefsful. A man under the agitation of paffion.\\nmakes known his feelings in the glowing language of\\nfenfibility. He does not coolly defcribe what his\\nfeelings are yet this fort of feconclary defcription\\ntragick poets often give us inftead of the primary and\\nnative language of paffion. Thus in Addifon s Cato,\\nwhen Lucia confefies to Fortius her love for him, but\\nfwears that (lie will never marry him, Fortius, inftead\\nof giving way to the language of grief and aftonifl\\nment, only defcribes his feelings\\nFix d in aftonifbment,! gaze upon thee,\\nLike one juft blafted by a flroke from heaven,\\nWho pants for breath, and flifFens yet alive\\nIn dreadful looks a monument of wrath,\\nThis might have proceeded from a by (lander, or ati\\nindifferent peribn but it is altogether improper in the\\nmouth of Fortius. Similar to this defcriptive language\\nare the unnatural and forced thoughts, which tragick\\npoets fometimes employ, to exaggerate the feelings of.\\nperfons whom they wifh to paint, as ftrongly moved.\\nThus* when Jane Shore on meeting her hufband in\\ndiftrefs, and finding that he had forgiven her, calls on\\nthe rains to give her their drops, and to the fprings to\\nlend her their ftreams, that fhe may hare a conftant\\nfupply of tears we fee plainly that it is not Jane\\nShore that fpeaks but the poet himfelf, who is -{train--", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "TRAGEDT. 24f\\niRg his fancy, and fpurring up his genius, to fay\\nfomething uncommonly ftrong and lively.\\nThe language of real paffion is always plain and\\nfimple. It abounds indeed in figures, that exprefs a\\ndifturbed and impetuous ftate of mind but never em-\\nploys any for parade and embeKifhment. Thoughts,\\nfuggeited by paffion, are natural and obvious and\\nnot the offspring of refinement, fubtilty, and wit.\\nPaffion neither reafons, fpeculates, nor declaims its\\nlanguage is fhort, broken, and interrupted. The\\nFrench tragedians deal too much in refinement and\\ndeclamation. The Greek tragedians adhere mod to\\nnature, and are moil pathetick. This too is the great\\nexcellency of Shakefpeare. He exhibits the true lan-\\nguage of nature and paffion.\\nMoral fentiments and reflections ought not to recur\\nrery frequently in tragedy* When unfeafonably\\ncrowded, they lofe their effect, and convey an air of\\npedantry. When introduced with propriety, they\\ngive dignity to the compofition. Cardinal Woolfey s\\nfol iloquy on his fall is a fine in fiance of the felicity\\nwith which they may be employed. Much of the\\nmerit of Addifon s Cato depends on that moral turn.\\nof thought which diftinguifhes it.\\nThe ftyle and verilfication of tragedy mould be free,\\neafy, and varied. Englifh blank ve rfe is happily fuit-\\ned to this fpecies of compofition. It has fufficient ma-\\njelty, and can defcend to the fimple and familiar it\\nadmits a happier variety of cadence, and is free front\\nthe comtraint and monotony of rhyme. Of the\\nFrench tragedies it is a great misfortune, that they are\\nalways in rhyme. For it fetters the freedom of the\\ntragick dialogue, fills it with languid monotony, and\\ni$ fatal to the power of paffion.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "2$\u00c2\u00ae 4 CREEK TRAGEDY.\\nWith regard to thofe fplendid comparifons in rhyme\\nand thofe firings of couplets, with which it was fome\\ntime ago fafhionable to conclude the a\u00c2\u00a3h of a tragedy,\\nand foinetimes the moil interefting fcenes, they are\\nnow laid afide, and regarded not only as chiidifh or-\\naarnsnts, but as perfed: barbarifms.\\nGREEK TRAGEDY.\\nTi\\nHE plot of Greek tragedy was exceedingly\\nfimple the incidents few and the conduct very\\nexact with regard to the unities of action, time, and\\nplace. Machinery, or the invention of gods, was em*\\nployed and, what was very faulty, the final unravel-\\nling was fometimes made to turn upon it. Love, one\\nor two inftances excepted, was never admitted into\\nGreek tragedy. A vein of morality and religion al-\\nways runs through it but they employed lefs than\\nthe moderns, the combat of the paffions. Their plots\\nwere all taken from the ancient traditionary ftories of\\ntheir own nation.\\njEfchylus, the father of Greek tragedy, exhibits\\nboth the beauties and defe\u00c2\u00a3ts of an early original\\nwriter. He is bold, nervous, and animated but very\\nobfcure, and difficult to be underftood. His ftyle is\\nhighly metaphorical, and often harfli and tumid. He\\nabounds in martial ideas and defcriptions, has much\\nfire and elevation, and little tendernefs. He alfo de-\\nlights in the marvellous.\\nThe mod mafterly of the Greek tragedians is So-\\nphocles. He is the mofl correal in the condu\u00c2\u00a3l of", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "FRENCH TRAGEDY. 2 J I\\nhis fubje 9 the mod juft and fublimc in his fenti-\\nments. In defcriptive talents he is alfo eminent.\\nEuripides is accounted more tender than Sophocles\\nhe is fuller of moral fentiments but he is lefs corre\u00c2\u00a3k\\nin the conduct of his plays. His expofitions of his\\nfubjefts are lefs artful and the fongs of his chorus,\\nthough very poetick, are lefs connected with the prin-\\ncipal a\u00c2\u00a3Hon, than thofe of Sophocles. Both of them,\\nhowever, have high merit, as tragick poets. Their\\nftyle is elegant and beautiful and their fentiments\\nfor the moft part juft. They fpeak with the voice of\\nnature and in the midft of fimplicity they are touch-\\ning and interefting.\\nTheatrical reprefentation on the ftages of Greece\\nand Rome was in many refpe\u00c2\u00a3is very Angular, and\\nwidely different from that of modern times. The\\nfongs of the chorus were accompanied by inftrument-\\nal mufick and the dialogue part had a modulation of\\nits own, and might be fet to notes. It has alfo been\\nthought that on the Roman ftage the pronouncing\\nand gefticulating parts were fometimes divided, and\\nperformed by different a\u00c2\u00a3tors. The actors in tragedy\\nwore a long robe they were raifed upon cothurni,\\nand played in mafks thefe malks were painted and\\nthe a\u00c2\u00a3lor by turning the different profiles exhibited\\ndifferent emotions to the auditors. This contrivance,\\nhowever, was attended by many difadvantages.\\nFRENCH TRAGEDY.\\nIN the compofitions of fome French dramatick\\nwriters, tragedy has appeared with great luftre par-", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "25* FRENCH TRAGEDY.\\nticularly Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire. They have\\nimproved upon the ancients, by introducing more in-\\ncidents, a greater variety of paflions, and a fuller dif-\\nplay of characters. Like the ancients, they excel in\\nregularity of conduct and their flyle is poetical\\nand elegant. But to an Englifh tafte they want\\nftrength and paffion, and are too declamatory and re-\\nfined. They feem afraid of being too tragick and it\\nwas the opinion of Voltaire, that to the perfedion of\\ntragedy it is neceflary to unite the vehemence and\\na\u00c2\u00a3Uon of the Englifh theatre with the correftnefs\\nand decorum of the French.\\nCorneille, the father of French tragedy, is diftin-\\nguifhed by majefty of fentiment and a fruitful imagi-\\nnation. His genius was rich, but more turned to the\\nepick than the tragick vein. He is magnificent and\\nfplendid, rather than touching and tender. He is full\\nof declamation, impetuous and extravagant.\\nIn tragedy, Racine is fuperiour to Corneille. He\\nwants, indeed, the copioufnefs of Corneille but he is\\nfree from his bombafl, and excels him greatly in ten-\\ndernefs. The beauty of his language and verfifica-\\ntion is uncommon and^he has managed his rhymes\\nwith fuperiour advantage.\\nVoltaire is not inferiour to his predeceilbrs in the\\ndrama and in one article he has outdone them, the\\ndelicate and interefting fituations he has introduced.\\nHere lies his chief ftrength. Like his predeceffors,\\nhowever,. he is fometimes deficient in force, and feme-\\ntimes too declamatory. His characters, notwithftand-\\ning, are drawn with fpirit, his events are ftriking, and\\nhis fentiments elevated.", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0NCLXSX T*A\u00c2\u00abI0T* 253\\nENGLISH TRAGEDY.\\nIT has often been remarked of tragedy hi\\ntSreat-Britain, that it is more ardent than that oF\\nFrance, but more irregular and incorrect. It ha*,\\ntherefore, excelled in the foul of tragedy. For tht\\npathetick muft be allowed to be the chief excellence of\\nthe tragick mufe.\\nThe firft obje on the Englifh theatre, is the great\\nShakefpeare. In extent and force of genius, botk\\nfor tragedy and comedy, he is unrivalled. But at the\\nfame time it is genius (hooting wild, deficient in tafte\\nnot always chafte, and unaffifted by art and knowl*\\nedge. Criticifm has been exhaufted in commentaries\\nupon him yet to this day it is undecided, whether\\nhis beauties or defefls be greateft. In his writings\\nthere are admirable fcenes and parages without num-\\nber but there is not one of his plays which can be\\npronounced a good one. Befide extreme irregulari-\\nties in conduft, and grotefque mixtures of the ferioui\\nand comick, we are frequently difturbed by unnatural\\nthoughts, harfh expreffions, and a certain obfeure\\nbombaft, and play upon words. Thefe faults are\\nhowever, compenfated by two of the greatefl excel*\\nlencies a tragick poet can poffefs, his lively and di-\\nverfified painting of character, and his ftrong and\\nnatural expreffions of paffion. On thefe two virtues\\nhis merit refts. In the midft of his abfurdities ho\\ninterefts and moves us fo great is his fkill in human\\nnature, and fo lively his reprefentations of it.\\nHe poffeffes alfo the merit of having created for\\nhimfelf a world of preternatural beings. Hi* witche*)\\nx", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "254 ENGLISH TRAGEDY.\\nghofts, fairies, and fpirits of all kinds, are fo awful,\\nmyfterious, and peculiar, as ftrongly to affe the im-\\nagination. His two mafter-pieces are his Othello\\nand Macbeth. With regard to his hiftorical plays\\nthey are neither tragedies, nor comedies but a pe-\\nculiar fpecies of dramatick entertainment, in which he\\ndefcribes the chara ers, events, and manners of the\\ntimes of which he treats.\\nSince Shakefpeare, there are few Englifh dramatick\\nwriters, whofe whole works are entitled to high praife.\\nThere are feveral tragedies, however, of coniiderable\\nmerit. Lee s Theodofius has warmth and tendernefs,\\nthough romantick in the plan, and extravagant in the\\nfentiments. Otway is great in his Orphan and Venice\\nPreferred. Perhaps, however, he is too tragick in\\nthefe pieces. He had genius and ftrong paffions,\\nbut was very indelicate.\\nThe tragedies of Rowe abound in morality and in\\nelevated fentiments. His poetry is good, and his lan-\\nguage pure and elegant. He is, notwithftanding,\\ntoo cold and uninterefting and flowery, rather than\\ntragick. His bed dramas are Jane Shore and the\\nFair Penitent, which excel in the tender and pathetick.\\nDr. Young s Revenge difcovers genius and fire\\nbut wants tendernefs, and turns too much on the\\ndireful paffions. In the Mourning Bride of Congreve\\nthere are fine fituations and much good poetry.\\nThe tragedies of Thomfon are too full of a ftiff\\nmorality, which renders them dull and formal. His\\nTancred and Sigifmunda is his mafter-piece 5 and for\\nthe plot, characters and fentiments, juftly deferves\\na place among the befl Englifh tragedies.\\nA Greek tragedy is a fimple relation of an intereft-\\nirig incident. A French tragedy is a feries of artful", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "COMEDY* 25;\\nand refined converfations. An Englilh tragedy is a\\ncombat of ftrong paffions, fet before us in all their\\nviolence, producing deep difafters, and filling the\\nfpe\u00c2\u00a3tators with grief. Ancient tragedies are more\\nnatural and fimple modern more artful and com-\\nplex.\\nT,\\nCOMEDY,\\nHE drain and fpirit of comedy difcriminate\\nit fufRciently from tragedy. While pity, terror, and\\nthe otherf ftrong pailions form the province of the lat-\\nter, the fole inftrument of the former is ridicule*\\nFollies and vices, and whatever in the human charac-\\nter is improper, or expofes to cenfure and ridicule, are\\nobjecSls of comedy. As a fatirical exhibition of the\\nimproprieties and follies of men, it is ufeful and moral.\\nIt is commendable by this fpecies of compofition to\\ncorrect and to polifh the manners of men. Many-\\nvices are more fuccefsfuliy exploded by ridicule, than\\nby ferious arguments. It is poffible however to em*\\nploy ridicule improperly and by its operation to do\\nmifchief inftead of good. For ridicule is far from\\nbeing a proper tell of truth. Licentious writers there-\\nfore of the comick clafs have often caft ridicule on ob-\\njefts and chara6lers which did not deferve it. But\\nthis is not the fault of comedy, but of the turn and\\ngenius of certain writers. In the hands of loofe men,\\ncomedy will miflead and corrupt but in thofe of\\nvirtuous writers it is not only a gay and innocent,\\nbut a laudable and ufeful entertainment. Englifh\\ncomedy, however, is frequently a fchool of vice.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "25* COMEBY.\\nThe rules of dramatick action, that were prefcrittti\\nfor tragedy, belong alfo to comedy. A comick writer\\nmuft obferve the unities of a\u00c2\u00a3Uon, time, and place.\\nHe mud attend to nature and probability. The inn-\\nfcation of manners ought to be even more exaft in\\ncomedy than in tragedy for the fubje s of comedy\\n2re more familiar and better konwn.\\nThe fuhje 3s of tragedy are confined to no age\\nRor country but it is otherwife in comedy, Forths\\ndecorums of behaviour, and the nice discriminations\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f character which are the fubje#s of comedy, change\\nwith time and country 5 and are never fo well under-\\nwood by foreigners, as by natives. We weep for the\\nheroes of Greece and Rome but we are touched by\\nthe ridicule of fuch manners and characters only ai\\n%c fee and know. The fcene therefore of comedy\\njhc^ld always be laid in the au thorns own country\\n?nd age. The comick poet catches the manners living\\n.$s they rife.\\nft is true, indeed, that Plautus and Terence did not\\nfollow this rule. The fcene of their comedies is laid\\nin Greece, and they adopted the Greek laws and cuf-\\nforns. But it is to be remembered, that comedy was\\nin th\u00c2\u00abir age a new entertainment in Rome, and that\\nthey were contented with the praife of tranflating Me-\\noander and other comick writers of Greece. In poftc-\\nrior times the Romans had the Comcedia Togata,*\\n\u00c2\u00a9r what was founded on their own manners, as welt\\nas the Comcedia Palliata, which was taken from\\nthe Greeks.\\nThere are two kinds of comedy, that of chara\u00c2\u00a3ler,\\nand that of intrigue. In the laft, the plot or a\u00c2\u00a3lion of\\n^je play is the principal objeft. la the firft, the dif*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "COMEDY. 2^7\\nplay of a peculiar character is the chief point and to\\nthis the adion is fubordinate. The French abound\\nmoft in comedies of character. Such are the capital\\npieces of Moliere. The Englifh have inclined more\\nto comedies of intrigue. Such are the plays of Con-\\ngreve and in general there is more ftory, action,\\nand buftle in Engiiih, than in French comedy.\\nThe perfection of comedy is to be found in a prop-\\ner mixture of thefe two kinds. Mere converfation\\nwithout an interefting (lory is infipid. There fhould\\never be fo much intrigue, as to excite both fears and\\nwiihes. The incidents fhould be ftriking, and afford\\na proper field for the exhibition of character. The\\npiece however fhould not be overcharged with in-\\ntrigue for this would be to convert a comedy into a\\nnovel.\\nWith refpeft to characters it is a common error of\\nComtek writers, to carry them much beyond real life j\\nindeed it is very difficult to hit the precife point, where\\nwit ends, and buffoonery begins. The comedian may\\nexaggerate but good fenfe mull teach him where\\nto flop.\\nIn comedy there ought to be a clear diftin\u00c2\u00a3tion in\\nchara\u00c2\u00a3ters* The contraft of characters, however, by\\npairs, and by oppofites, is too theatrical and affe ed.\\nIt is the perfection of art to conceal art. A mafterly\\nwriter gives us his chara\u00c2\u00a3ters, diftinguifhed rather by\\nfuch (hades of diverfity, as are commonly found in fo-\\nciety, than marked by fuch oppofitions, as are feldorrs\\nbrought into actual contraft in any of the c^rcumftan-\\nces of life*\\nThe ftyle of comedy ought to be pure, lively, and\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2legant, generally imitating the tone of polite convex\\nx 2", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "a$B ANCIIMT COMEDY.\\nfation, and never defcending into grofs expreffions-\\nRhyme is not fuitable to comick compofition for what\\nhas poetry to do with the converfation of men ia\\ncommon life The current of the dialogue (hould be\\ncafy without pertnefs, and genteel without flippancy*\\nTke wit fhould never be ftudied,nor unfeafonable.\\nANCIENT COMEDT.\\nX HE ancient comedy was an avowed fatire a-\\ngain ft particular perfons, brought upon the ftage by-\\nsame. Such are the plays of Ariftophanes and\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2ompofitions of fo lingular a nature illuftrate well the-\\nturbulent and licentious ftate of Athens. The molt\\nxlluftrious perfonages, generals and magiftrates, wer\u00c2\u00ab\\nthen made the fubje\u00c2\u00a3ts of comedy. Vivacity, fatire,\\nand buffoonery are the chara\u00c2\u00a3terifticks of Ariftophanes.\\nOn many occafions he difplays genius and force, but\\nhis performances give us no high idea of the attick:\\nfrafte for wit in his age. His ridicule is extravagant\\nhis wit farcical his perfonal raillery cruel, and biting^\\nand his obfcenity intolerable.\\nSoon after the age of Ariftophanes the liberty o\u00c2\u00a3\\nattacking perfons by name on the ftage was prohibit-\\ned by law. The middle comedy then took its rife.\\nLiving perfons were (till attacked, but under fidlitious^\\nnames. Of thefe pieces we have no remains. They\\nwere fucceeded by the new comedy when it became\\nas it is now, the bufinefs of the ftage to exhibit man-\\nners and characters, but not thofe of particular per-\\nfons. The author of this kind, moft celebrated among\\nthe Greeks, was M#nander 3 but his writings are pej^\\niftfdv", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "SPANISH COtfEBT.\\nOf the new comedy of the ancients, the only re-\\ngains are the plays of Plautus and Terence. The\\nfirft is eminent for the vis comica and for an expref-\\nfive phrafeology. He bears, however, many marks\\nof the rudenefs of the dramatick art in his time. He\\nhas too much low wit and fcurril-lity and is by far\\ntoo quaint and full of conceit. He has more variety\\nand more force than Terence and his characters\\nare ftrongly marked, though fometimes coarfely.\\nTerence is poliflied, delicate, and elegant. His\\nftyle is a model of the moft pure and graceful latinity.\\nHis dialogue is always corre\u00c2\u00a3l and decent, and hi\\nrelations have a pifturefque and beautiful fimplicity.\\nHis morality is in general unexceptionable his fix-\\nations are interefting and many of his fentiments-\\ntouch the heart. He may be confidered as the found-\\ner of ferious comedy. In fprightlinefs and ftrength\\nhe is deficient There is a famenefs in his character*\\nand plots and he is faid to have been inferiour t\\nMenander, whom he copied. To form a perfe\u00c2\u00a3l\\ntomick author, the fpirit and fire of Plautus ought t#\\nie united with the grace and corre neft of Terence\\nSPANISH COMEDY.\\nJL HE moft prominent obje\u00c2\u00a3t in modern comfc-\\nfly is the Spaniflv theatre. The chief ccmedians of\\nSpain are Lopez de Vega, Guillen and Calderon.\\nThe firft, who is the moft famous of them, wrote\\nbove a thoufand plays and was infinitely more irreg-\\nmlar than Shakefpeare. He totally difregarded th*\\n#ii\u00e2\u0082\u00ac\u00e2\u0082\u00ac untties* and every eftablifced rule* of d\u00c2\u00a3a\u00c2\u00bb|t$fc.", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "26o FRENCH COMEDY.\\nwriting. One play often includes many years, and\\neven the whole life of a man. The fcene, during the\\nfirft a\u00c2\u00a3fc is in Spain the next in Italy and the third\\nin Africa. His plays are chiefly hiftorical, and are a\\nmixture of heroick fpeeches, ferious incidents, war and\\nflaughter, ridicule and buffoonery. He jumbles to-\\ngether Chriftianity and Paganifm, virtues and vices,\\nangels and gods. Notwithftanding his faults, he pof-\\nfefled genius, and great force of imagination. Many\\nof his characters are well painted many of his fixa-\\ntions are happy and from the fource of his rich in-\\nvention, dramatick writers of other nations have fre-\\nquently drawn their materials. He was confcious\\nhimfelf of his extreme irregularity, and apologized\\nfor them from the prevailing tafte of his country-\\nmen.\\nFRENCH COMEDY.\\nX HE comick theatre of France is allowed to\\nbe correct, chaflej and decent. The comick author, in\\nwhom the French glory moft, is Moliere. In the\\njudgment of French criticks he has nearly reached the\\nfummit of perfection in his art. Nor is this the de-\\ncifion of mere partiality. Moliere is the fatirift only\\nof vice and folly. His characters were peculiar ta\\nhis own times and in general his ridicule was juftly\\ndirected. His comick powers were great and his\\npleafantry is always innocent. His Mifanthrope, and\\nTartuffe are in verfe, and conftitute a kind of digni-\\nfied comedy, in which vice is expofed in the ftyle of\\nelegant and polite fatire. In his profe comedies there", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH COMEDO. t6l\\nh a profufion of ridicule 5 but the poet never gives,\\nalarm to modefty, nor cafts contempt on virtue.\\nWith thefe high qualities however confiderable \u00c2\u00ablefe\u00c2\u00a3U\\nare mingled. In unravelling his plots he is unhappy v\\nas this is frequently brought on with too little prepa-\\nration, and in an improbable manner. In his verfe\\ncomedies he is not always fufficiently interefting, and\\nhe is too full of long fpeeches. In his rifible pieces La\\nprofe he is too farcical. But upon the whole it may\\nbe affirmed, that few writers ever attained fo perfect-\\nly the true end of comedy. Hia Tartuffe ana Avas*\\nare his two capital production*.\\nENGLISH COMEDY.\\nJL* ROM the English theatre is naturally expe 5l~\\ntd a great variety of original characters in comedy,,\\nand bolder ftrokes of wit and humour than from any\\nother modern ftage. Humour is in fome degree pe-\\nculiar to England. The freedom of the government,\\nand the unreftrained liberty of Englifii manners, arc\\nfavourable to humour and (angularity of character. In\\nFrance the influence of a defpotick court fpreads uni-\\nformity over the nation* Hence comedy has a more\\namplified and a freer vein in Britain than in France.\\nBut it is to be regretted, that the comick fpirit of Brit-\\nain is often difgraced by indecency and licentioufnefs.\\nThe firft age, however, of Englifh comedy was not\\ninfe edby this fpirit. The plays of Shakefpeare and\\nBen Jonfon have no immoral tendency. The com~\\nfdi.es of the former difplay a ftrong, creative genius", "height": "4302", "width": "2532", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "262 English comei t.\\nbut are irregular in conduct They are Angularly rich\\nin characters and manners but often defcend to pleafc\\nthe mob. Jonfon is more regular, but (tiff and pe*\\ndantick though not void of dramatick genius. Much\\nfancy and invention, and many fine paflages, are found\\nin the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. But m gen-\\neral they abound in romantick incidents, unnatural\\nchara ers and coarfe allufions.\\nChange of manners has rendered the comedies of\\nthe lafl: age obfolete. For it is the exhibition of pre-\\nvailing modes and characters, that gives a charm to\\ncomedy. Thus Plautus was antiquated to the Ro-\\nmans in the days of Auguftus. But to the honour of\\nShakefpeare, his Falftaff is ftill admired, and his Mei nr\\nWives of Windfor read with pleafure.\\nAfter the re deration of Charles II thelicentioufi\\nwhich polluted the court and nation, feized upon com-\\nedy. The rake became the predominant character\\nRidicule was thrown upon chaftity and fobriety.\\nthe end of the play, indeed, the rake becomes a fober\\nman but through the performance he is a fine gen-\\ntleman, and .exhibits a pi\u00c2\u00a3ture of 1 the pleafurable en-\\njoyments of life. This fpirit of comedy had the v\\neffect on youth of both fexes, and continued to the\\ndays of George II.\\nIn the comedies of Dryden there are many ftrokes\\nof genius but he is hafty and carelefs. As his obje\u00c2\u00a3t\\nwas to pleafe, he followed the current of the times,\\nand gave way to indelicacy and licentioufnefs. His\\nindecency was at times fo grofs, as to occafion a pro-\\nhibition of his plays on the ftage.\\nAfter Dryden flourifhed Cibber, Vanburgh, Far-\\nquhar and Congreve. Cibber has fprightlinefs and a", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH COMEDY. 263\\npert vivacity but his incidents are fo forced and un-\\nnatural, that his performances have all funk into ob-\\nfcurity, excepting the CarelefsHufband and The Pro-\\nvoked Hufband. Of thefe the firft is remarkable for\\nthe eafy politenefs of the dialogue and is tolerably-\\nmoral in its conduct. The latter, in which Cibber\\nwas affifted by Vanburgh, is perhaps the beft comedy in\\nthe Englifh language and even to this it may be ob-\\njected that it has a doubleplot. Its chara ers how-\\never are natural, and it abounds with fine painting and\\nhappy ftrokes of humour.\\nWit,, fpirit, and eafe, characterize Sir John Van-\\nburgh 1 but he is the mod indelicate and immoral of\\nall our comedians. Congreve undoubtedly poflefled,\\ngenius* He is witty and fparkiing, and full of char-\\nacter and aftion. Indeed he overflows with wit for\\nit is often introduced unfeafonably and in general\\nthere is too much of it for well bred converfation.\\nFarquhar is a light and gay writer 5 lefs correct and\\nlefs brilliant than Congreve but he has more eafe,\\nand much of the vis comica* Like Congreve he is\\nlicentious and modefty mull turn from them both\\nwith abhorrence. The French boaft with juftice of\\nthe fuperiour decency of their ftage, and fpeak of the\\nEnglifh theatre with aftonifhent. Their philofophi-\\ncal writers afcribe the profligate manners of London to\\nthe indelicacy and corruption of Englifli comedy.\\nOf late years a fenfible reformation has taken place\\nin Englifh comedy. Our writers of comedy now ap-\\npear afhamed of the indecency of their predeceiTors.\\nThey may be inferiour to Farquhar and Congreve in\\nfpirit, eafe, and wit 5 but they have the merit of being\\nfar more innocent and moral", "height": "4325", "width": "2410", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "3\u00c2\u00a74 ftNGLlSH COMEDY.\\nTo the French ftage we are much indebted for this I\\nreformation. Theintrodu ion within a few years of\\na graver comedy in France, called the ferious or tender f\\ncomedy, has attracted the attention and approbation\\nof our writers. Gaiety and ridicule are not excluded\\nfrom this fpecies of comedy but it lays the chief\\nftrefs on tender and interefting fituations. It is fenti-\\nmenta l, and touches the heart. It pleafes not fo much\\nby the laughter it excites, as by the tears of afFe\u00c2\u00a3tion\\nand joy which it draws forth.\\nThis form of comedy was oppofed in France, as a*\\ntmjudifiable innovation. It was objc\u00c2\u00a3led by critick*\\nthat it was not founded on laughter and Tidicule\\nbut it is not neceflary that all comedies be formed\\n,on one precife model. Some may be gay; fame fe-\\nrious and fome may partake of both qualities. Se-\\nrious and tender comedy has no right to exclude gaiety\\nand ridicule from the ftage. There are materials for\\nboth and the ftage is richer for the innovation. In\\ngeneral it may be considered as the mark of increafing\\npolitenefs and refinement, when thofe theatrical exhi-\\nbitions become fafhionable, which are free from indel-\\nicate fentiments and an immoral tendency*\\n?f Jff I*", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4325", "width": "2410", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4111", "width": "2303", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process.\\nNeutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide\\nTreatment Date: Oct. 2006\\nPreservationTechnologies\\nA WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION\\n1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive\\nCranberry Township, PA 16066\\n(724)779-2111", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4325", "width": "2410", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4332", "width": "2486", "jp2-path": "abridgmentoflect00bla_0276.jp2"}}