to please, and to persuade. It is indeed the master-piece, the highest attainment of eloquence; uniting the strength of reason, with the vehemence of passion; affording all the advantages of passion for the purpose of persuasion, without the confusion and disorder which are apt to accompany it.

In the fourth place, in the highest and most animated strain of popular speaking, we must always preserve regard to what the public ear will bear. This direction I give, in order to guard against an injudicious imitation of ancient orators, who, both in their pronunciation and gesture, and in their figures of expression, used a bolder manner than what the greater coolness of modern taste will readily suffer. This may, perhaps, as I formerly observed, be a disadvantage to modern eloquence. It is no reason why we should be too severe in checking the impulse of genius, and continue always creeping on the ground; but it is a reason, however, why we should avoid carrying the tone of declamation to a height that would now be reckoned extravagant. Demosthenes, to justify the unsuccessful action of Cheronæa, calls up the manes of those heroes who fell in the battle of Marathon and Platea, and swears by them, that their fellow-citizens had done well, in their endeavours to support the same cause. Cicero, in his oration for Milo, implores and obtests the Alban hills and groves, and makes a long address to them: and both passages, in these orators, have a fine effect.* But how few modern orators could venture on such apostrophes? and what a power of genius would it require to give such figures now their proper grace, or make them produce a due effect upon the hearers?

In the fifth and last place, in all kinds of public speaking, but especially in popular assemblies, it is a capital rule to attend to all the decorums of time, place, and character. No warmth of eloquence can atone for the neglect of these. That vehemence, which is becoming in a person of character and authority, may be unsuitable to the modesty expected from a young speaker. That sportive and witty manner which may suit one subject and one assembly, is altogether out of place in a grave cause, and a solemn meeting. Caput artis est,' says Quintilian, 'decere.' The first principle of art, is to observe decorum.' No one should ever rise to speak in public, without forming to himself a just and strict idea of what suits his own age and character; what suits the subject,

*The passage in Cicero is very beautiful, and adorned with the highest colouring of his eloquence. Non est humano consilio, ne mediocri quidem, judices, deorum immortalium cura, res illa perfecta. Religiones, mehercule, ipsæ aræque, cum illum belluam cadere viderunt, commovisse se videntur, et jus in illo suum retinuisse. Vos enim jam Albani tumuli, atque luci, vos inquam imploro atque obtestor, vosque Albanorum obrutæ aræ, sacrorum populi Romani sociæ et æquales, quas ille præceps amentiâ, cæsis prostratisque, sanctissimis lucis, substructionum insanis molibus oppresserat; vestræ tum aræ, vestræ religiones viguerunt, vestra vis valuit, quam ille omni scelere polluerat. Tuque ex tuo edito monte Latiali, sancte Jupiter, cujus ille lacus, nemora, finesque, sæpe omni nefario stupro, scelere maculârat, aliquando ad eum puniendum, oculos aperuisti, vobis illæ, vobis vestro in conspectu, seræ, sed justæ tamen, et debitæ pænæ solutæ sunt

the hearers, the place, the occasion: and adjusting the whole train and manner of his speaking on this idea. All the ancients insist much on this. Consult the first chapter of the eleventh book of Quintilian, which is employed wholly on this point, and is full of good sense. Cicero's admonitions, in his Orator ad Brutum, I shall give in his own words, which should never be forgotten by any who speak in public. Est eloquentiæ, sicut reliquarum rerum, fundamentum, sapientia; ut enim in vita, sic in oratione nihil est difficillius quam quod deceat videre; hujus ignoratione sæpissime peccatur; non enim omnis fortuna, non omnis auctoritas, non omnis ætas, nec vero locus, aut tempus, aut auditor omnis, eodem aut verborum genere tractandus est, aut cententiarum. Semperque in oinni parte orationis, ut vitæ, quid deceat considerandum; quod et in re de qua agitur positum est, et in personis et eorum qui dicunt, et eorum qui audiunt.** So much for the considerations that require to be attended to, with respect to the vehemence and warmth which is allowed in popular eloquence.

The current of style should in general be full, free, and natural. Quaint and artificial expressions are out of place here; and always derogate from persuasion. It is a strong and manly style which should chiefly be studied; and metaphorical language, when properly introduced, produces often a happy effect. When the metaphors are warm, glowing, and descriptive, some inaccuracy in them will be overlooked, which, in a written composition, would be remarked and censured. Amidst the torrent of declamation, the strength of the figure makes impression; the inaccuracy of it escapes.

With regard to the degree of conciseness or diffuseness suited to popular eloquence, it is not easy to fix any exact bounds. I know that it is common to recommend a diffuse manner as the most pro per. I am inclined, however, to think, that there is danger of erring in this respect; and that by indulging too much in the diffuse style, public speakers often lose more in point of strength, than they gain by the fullness of their illustration. There is no doubt, that in speaking to a multitude, we must not speak in sentences and apothegms: care must be taken to explain and to inculcate; but this care may be, and frequently is, carried too far. We ought always to remember, that how much soever we may be pleased with hearing ourselves speak, every audience is very ready to be tired; and the moment they begin to be tired, all our eloquence goes for nothing. A loose and verbose manner never fails to create disgust; and, on most occasions, we had better run the risk of saying too little than too much. Better place our thought in one strong point of view, and

* Good sense is the foundation of eloquence, as it is of all other things that are valuable. It happens in oratory exactly as it does in life, that frequently nothing is more difficult than to discern what is proper and becoming. In consequence of mistaking this, the grossest faults are often committed. For to the different degrees of rank, fortune, and age among men, to all the varieties of time, place, and auditory, the same style of language, and the same strain of thought, cannot agree. In every part of a discourse, just as in every part of life, we must attend to what is suitable and decent: whether that be determined by the nature of the subject of which we treat, or by the characters of those who speak, or of those who hear."

rest it there, than by turning it into every light, and pouring forth a profusion of words upon it, exhaust the attention of our hearers, and leave them flat and languid.

Of pronunciation and delivery, I am hereafter to treat apart. At present it is sufficient to observe, that in speaking to mixt assemblies, the best manner of delivery is the firm and the determined. An arrogant and overbearing manner is indeed always disagreeable; and the least appearance of it ought to be shunned: but there is a certain decisive tone, which may be assumed even by a modest man, who is thoroughly persuaded of the sentiments he utters; and which is calculated for making a general impression. A feeble and hesitating manner bespeaks always some distrust of a man's own opinion; which is, by no means, a favourable circumstance for his inducing others to embrace it.

These are the chief thoughts which have occurred to me from reflection and observation, concerning the peculiar distinguishing characters of the eloquence proper for popular assemblies. The sum of what has been said, is this: the end of popular speaking is persuasion; and this must be founded on conviction. Argument and reasoning must be the basis, if we would be speakers of business, and not mere declaimers. We should be engaged in earnest on the side which we espouse; and utter, as much as possible, our own, and not counterfeited sentiments. The premeditation should be of things, rather than of words. Clear order and method should be studied; the manner and expression warm and animated; though still, in the midst of that vehemence, which may at times be suitable, carried on under the proper restraints which regard to the audience, and to the decorum of character, ought to lay on every public speaker: the style free and easy; strong and descriptive, rather than diffuse; and the delivery determined and firm. To conclude this head, let every orator remember, that the impression made by fine and artful speaking is momentary; that made by argument and good sense, is solid and lasting.

I shall now, that I may afford an exemplification of that species of oratory of which I have been treating, insert some extracts from Demosthenes. Even under the great disadvantage of an English translation, they will exhibit a small specimen of that vigorous and spirited eloquence which I have so often praised. I shall take my extracts mostly from the Philippics and Olynthiacs, which were entirely popular orations spoken to the general convention of the citi zens of Athens: and, as the subject of both the Philippics, and the Olynthiacs, is the same, I shall not confine my self to one oration, but shall join together passages taken from two or three of them; such as may show his general strain of speaking, on some of the chief branches of the subject. The subject in general is, to rouse the Athenians to guard against Philip of Macedon, whose growing power and crafty policy had by that time endangered, and soon after overwhelmed the liberties of Greece. The Athenians began to be alarmed; but their deliberations were slow, and their measures feeble; several of their favourite orators having been gained by

Philip's tribes to favour his cause. In this critical conjuncture of affairs, Demosthenes arose. In the following manner he begins his first Philippic; which, like the exordiums of all his orations, is simple and artless.*

'Had we been convened, Athenians! on some new subject of debate, I had waited till most of your usual counsellors had declared their opinions. If I had approved of what was proposed by them, I should have continued silent; if not, I should then have attempted to speak my sentiments. But since those very points on which these speakers have often times been heard already, are at this time to be considered; though I have arisen first, I presume I may expect your pardon; for if they, on former occasions, had advised the proper measures, you would not have found it needful to consult at present. 'First then, Athenians! however wretched the situation of our affairs at present seems, it must not by any means be thought desperate. What I am now going to advance may possibly appear a paradox; yet it is a certain truth, that our past misfortunes afford a circumstance most favourable to our future hopes. And what is that? even that our present difficulties are owing entirely to our total indolence, and utter disregard of our own interest. For were we thus situated, in spite of every effort which our duty demanded, then indeed we might regard our fortunes as absolutely desperate. But now, Philip hath only conquered your supineness and inactivity; the state he hath not conquered. You cannot be said to be defeated; your force hath never been exerted.

'If there is a man in this assembly who thinks that we must find a formidable enemy in Philip, while he views on one hand the numerous armies which surround him, and on the other the weakness of our state, despoiled of so much of its dominions, I cannot deny that he thinks justly. Yet let him reflect on this: there was a time, Athenians! when we possessed Pydna, Patidoa, and Melthone, and all that country round: when many of the states, now subjected to him, were free and independent, and more inclined to our alliance than to his. If Philip, at that time weak in himself, and without allies, had desponded of success against you, he would never have engaged in those enterprises which are now crowned with success, nor could have raised himself to that pitch of grandeur at which you now behold him. But he knew well that the strongest places are only prizes laid between the combatants, and ready for the conqueror. He knew that the dominions of the absent devolved naturally to those who are in the field; the possessions of the supine, to the active and intrepid. Animated by these sentiments, he overturns whole nations. He either rules universally as a conqueror, or governs as a protector. For mankind naturally seek confederacy with such as they see resolved, and preparing not to be wanting to themselves.

'If you, my countrymen! will now at length be persuaded to enter

*In the following extracts, Leland's translation is mostly followed.

This thought is only hinted at in the first Philippic, but brought out more fully in the third; as the same thought, occasioned by similar situations of affairs, sometimes occur in the different orations on this subject

tain the like sentiments; if each of you will be disposed to approve himself an useful citizen, to the utmost that his station and abilities enable him; if the rich will be ready to contribute, and the young to take the field; in one word, if you will be yourselves, and banish these vain hopes which every single person entertains, that the active part of public business may lie upon others, and he remain at his ease; you may then, by the assistance of the gods, recall those opportunities which your supineness hath neglected, regain your dominions, and chastise the insolence of this man.'

'But when, O my countrymen! will you begin to exert your vigour? Do you wait till roused by some dire event? till forced by some necessity? What then are we to think of our present condition? To freemen, the disgrace attending on misconduct is,in my opinion, the most urgent necessity. Or say, is it your sole ambition to wander through the public places, each inquiring of the other, 'what new advices?' Can any thing be more new, than that a man of Macedon should conquer the Athenians, and give law to Greece! 'Is Philip dead?'-No-but he is sick.' Pray, what is it to you whether Philip is sick or not? supposing he should die, you would raise up another Philip, if you continue thus regardless of your in

terest.

'Many, I know, delight more in nothing than in circulating all the rumours they hear as articles of intelligence. Some cry, Philip hath joined with the Lacedæmonians, and they are concerting the destruction of Thebes. Others assure us, he hath sent an embassy to the king of Persia; others, that he is fortifying places in Illyria. Thus we all go about framing our several tales. I do believe indeed, Athenians! that he is intoxicated with his greatness, and does entertain his imagination with many such visionary projects, as he sees no power rising to oppose him. But I cannot be persuaded that he hath so taken his measures, that the weakest among us (for the weakest they are who spread such rumours) know what he is next to do. Let us disregard these tales. Let us only be persuaded of this, that he is our enemy; that we have long been subject to his insolence; that whatever we expected to have been done for us by others, hath turned against us; that all the resource left, is in ourselves; and that if we are not inclined to carry our arms abroad, we should be forced to engage him at home. us be persuaded of these things, and then we shall come to a proper determination, and be no longer guided by rumours. We need not be solicitous to know what particular events are to happen. We may be well assured that nothing good can happen, unless we give due attention to our own affairs, and act as becomes Athenians.'

Let

"Were it a point generally acknowledged that Philip is now at actual war with the state, the only thing under deliberation would then be, how to oppose him with most safety. But since there are persons so strangely infatuated, that although he has already possessed himself of a considerable part of our dominions, although he is

* Phil. iii.