THE ART OF SPEAKING: Written in French by MESSIEURS DU PORT ROYAL: In pursuance of a former Treatise, Entitled, THE ART OF THINKING.  
Rendered into ENGLISH.  
LONDON, Printed by W. GODBID, and are to be Sold by M. PITT, at the Angel against the little North Door of St. Paul's Church. 1676.   

THE PREFACE.  
OUr common Idea of Rhetoric is this, That to speak Eloquently, it suffices to cram our Memory with such Precepts as are prescribed by it. In this opinion, several People read with great eagerness those Books which are writ of that Subject; but after all their pains and assiduity finding their improvement but small, and themselves little more Eloquent than before, they impute it to the Author, as if he had not discovered the Mystery of the Art according to his pretence: So that not receiving the benefit they expected, their disappointment turns into disgust, and makes them despise all that he writes.  
I should expect no better Fortune for this Book, had not our Author avoided a particular fault that renders most Books of Rhetoric ineffectual. He does not trouble the Reader with a throng and huddle of Precepts, that serve only to load and encumber the Mind. He endeavours to lay open the bottom of the Art he undertakes, and its natural Principles, which being well understood, leaves us under no necessity of multitude of Rules, that do but crowd one another out of the Memory as soon as they are entered.  
To make us comprehend the true Reasons of the Principles of Rhetoric, our Author begins with an explication how Speech is formed: To show from Nature itself after what manner words are to be contrived for the Expression of our Thoughts, and the Motions of our Wills, he has supposed a company of new Men met together, who had never conversed before, nor knew how to speak. He considers what these Men would do; he makes it appear, they would quickly find the benefit of Speech, and frame a Language to themselves. He considers what form they would give it, and in his research discovers the Fundamentals of all Language, and gives his Reasons for all Rules prescribed by the Grammarians. It may be, his Disquisition will appear inconsiderable to some, who will be discouraged from reading this Book, when in the Front they find him speaking of Nouns Substantives, Adjectives, Declensions, Verbs, Conjugations, etc. But, besides that the Consequence will easily evince, that it is useful for teaching Languages with more readiness, and to make us speak more exactly; Order would not permit him to pass over those little things, which if you will believe Quintilian (as great a Master of Rhetoric as any has writ) make the most important part of the Art of Speaking; and this he declares, by comparing them to the Foundations of a House, which though laid low under ground, are yet as necessary parts as any that appear.  
When his new Men have acted their parts, our Author shows what is the true Original of Language, and that 'tis not bare accident that supplied us with Words. Nevertheless he demonstrates, that Language depends upon the Will and Consent of Men, and that Custom, or common Consent, exercises an absolute dominion over our Words, and therefore he gives us Rules to know the Laws of Custom, and Directions how they are to be kept. And all this in his first Book.  
In his second Book he observes that the plentifullest, and most copious Languages cannot furnish proper Terms for the Expression of all our Ideas, and therefore recourse is to be had to Art, and we must borrow the Terms of things that bear resemblance, or retain some reference or connexion with those which we would signify other ways, had common Custom afforded us Natural Terms. These borrowed Expressions are called Tropes; he speaks of all sorts of Tropes, and of their Use. He observes likewise in the same Book, That as Nature has disposed the Body of Man so, as to put itself into such postures immediately as are best proper for avoiding what is like to be hurtful, and for receiving what is like to do good: So Nature directs us to certain tricks and artifices in speaking, able to produce in the Minds of our Hearers the Effects which we desire, whether it be anger, or mildness, or detestation, or love. These ways and artifices in speaking, are called Figures, of which our Author treats with more than ordinary care, not contenting himself with mentioning their Names, and adding some few Examples (as is commonly done) but he discovers the Nature of each Figure, and how it is to be used.  
The easiness wherewith we speak, and the pleasure we take to hear an harangue well pronounced (as our Author has observed at the beginning of his Book) has disposed Mankind to make use of Words to signify his Thoughts, rather than of any other sign. In the ordering and ranging of Words, great pains has been taken to find out what it is that makes a Discourse go well off of the Tongue, and prove grateful to the Hearers. We have at large in his third Book, what we are to avoid, what we are to observe, what we are to do in the ranking our Words for better pronunciation; and what we are to do to make them acceptable to the Ear. In this Book it is he discourses of Periods, explains the Art of Versification; and after he has taught what it is in the Sound of Words that is pleasant to the Ear, he shows how the Rules prescribed by other Masters for the Composition of Periods, and Making of Verse, are for no other end, but to discover in Discourse the conditions that render pronunciation most agreeable and easy.  
The last Book treats of Styles, or ways of speaking, which Men assume according to their natural inclinations. He gives direction for regulation of our Styles; and that every Subject might be treated in a convenient way, he shows how our Style ought to be heightened or debased, as the Matter of our Discourse is considerable or otherwise: He shows how the quality of our Discourse ought to express the quality of our Subject; how our Style ought to be strong or smooth, severe or florid, as the Nature of the Subject requires. He inquires into the Style of an Orator, a Poet, a Philosopher, and Historian; and at the end of his Discourse, speaking of Rhetorical Ornaments, he demonstrates that they are produced by exact observation of the Rules which he has prescribed.  
These Four Books of the Art of Speaking, are followed by a Discourse in which the Author gives us an Idea of the Art of Persuasion. At the Entrance of his Discourse, he gives Reasons why he has separated that Art from the Art of Speaking, which Reasons are not necessary to be inserted in this place. Though his Discourse be short, I am of opinion it affords a better Description of the Art of Persuasion, than great Volumes which others have composed of that Subject. And therefore our Author displaying the true Fundamentals of the Arts of Speaking, and Persuading, (both which are comprehended in our Idea of Rhetoric) I do not despair but those who shall seriously peruse this Book, will receive such benefit, as is not to be found in the Writings of the ancient Rhetoricians, who present us only with Rules, without any Character or Description of their Principles.  
Though this new Rhetoric should give us nothing but speculative Notions, that contribute little to the making us. Eloquent, yet the reading of it would not be altogether useless, because in his Discourse of the Nature of this Art, he makes several important reflections upon our Mind, (whereof Discourse is the Image) which reflections conduce highly to the knowledge of ourselves, and by consequence deserve our attention.  
Besides this, I persuade myself, there is no person of any moderate curiosity, but will be glad to understand Reasons for all Rules prescribed by the Art of Speaking. When our Author tells us what is pleasing in Discourse, he does not call it je ne scay quoy without a Name; he names it, and conducting us to the very Fountain from whence our Pleasure springs, he presents to our view the Principles of those Rules that make them agreeable; which must needs be more satisfactory, than the Works of those who please only by the practice of the said Rules: For the Pleasures of the Mind, are to be preferred before the Pleasures of the Sense. It would be absurd and irregular (says St. Austin) to prefer Pleasure caused by the running of a Verse, before the Knowledge how to compose them. Nonnulli perversè, magis amant versum, quam artem ipsam qua conficitur versus; quia plus auribus quam intelligentiae sese dederunt. Some are so idle as to fancy a Verse, more than the Art of composing them, because they are more devoted to their Ear, than their Understanding.  
But this Treatise will be more particularly useful to young Men, by reason our Author treats of every thing in its Natural Order; and conducts the Reader to the understanding of what he teaches by such easy Reasons, as are not described so accurately and plainly in most other Masters. It has been a daily complaint, that sufficient care has not been taken to inform and fortify the Judgements of young People, who have been hitherto taught like young Parrots, only by words, without regarding the improvement of their Judgements by accustoming them to argue and reason upon the small things that they are taught. Hence it is, that Sciences many times do but trouble the Mind, and corrupt the Natural Judgement that is often conspicuous in some persons who study but little.  
Our Author thought not fit to swell up his Book with multitude of Examples, though perhaps they might have been convenient; for there is no Master but may supply this defect, by causing his Scholars to mark such places as are excellent in the Works of such as have transcended in the Practice of this Art.  
This Treatise is not intended for the Orator alone, but in general for all that either speak or write; for Poets, Historians, Philosophers, Divines, etc. And though it was composed in French, it may serve for all Languages, because it inquires into the Fundamentals of Speech, and the Rules prescribed in it, are not peculiar to any one Language.   

Jan. 19 1675.  
Imprimatur hic Liber cui titulus [The Art of Speaking, etc.] Gul. Jane, S. T. B. Rev. in Christo Patri, D. HENR. Episc. Lond. à Sac. Domest.   

THE FIRST PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.  

CHAP. I.  

I.  
The Organs of the Voice, and how our Speech is formed.  
WE may speak with our Eyes, and our Fingers, and make use of the motions of those parts to express the Ideas which are present to our Minds, and the Affections of our Wills: But this way of Speaking is not only imperfect, but troublesome. We cannot without much labour express by our Eyes, or our Fingers, all the variety of things which occur to our thought: We move our Tongue with ease, and can readily diversify the sound of our Voice in different manners. For this reason Nature has disposed Man to make use of the Organs of the Voice to give sensible signs of what he wills and conceives.  
The disposition of these Organs is wonderful. We have a natural Organ, of which the aspera arteria or Windpipe (proceeding from the Lungs to the root of our Tongue) is the passage or Canal. The Lungs are like Bellows, drawing in the Air by their dilatation, and expelling it by their contraction. The part of the aspera arteria next the root of the Tongue is called the Larynx, and is encompassed with Cartilages and Muscles, by which it opens and shuts. When the orifice of the Larynx is strait, the Air being violently forced out, is dashed and broken, and receives a motion which makes the sound of the Voice; but which is not yet articulated. This Voice is received in the Mouth, where the Tongue modifies it, and gives it different forms, according to its propulsion against the Teeth or the Palate; according as it is detained or transmitted; or according as the Mouth is more or less open.  
This facility of expressing our Sentiments by the Voice, has caused Mankind to apply themselves studiously to the consideration of all the differences which it receives from the several motions of the Organs of Pronunciation; and they have distinguished every particular modification by a Letter: These Letters are the Elements of Speech, and though their number be not great, yet they are sufficient for all the Words not only of the present, but of all the past, and future Languages in the World. The conjunction of two or more Letters makes a Syllable; one or more Syllables makes a Word; so that we may say, Speech is a composition of Sounds of the Voice, by Men established to be the signs of their Thoughts, and having the power to awaken the Ideas to which they have annexed them. Their Number is but 24, yet are they capable of composing a prodigious multitude of different Words. I have shown elsewhere, that 24 several Letters may be so variously transposed, as to make 576 several Words of two Letters. That 24 times as many Words may be formed of three several Letters, that is to say, 13824 Words. That 24 times as many more may be made of four several Letters; and so on proportionably: From whence we may judge of the vast variety of Words that might be made of them all, and indeed they are little less than infinite.  
And here it is of importance to observe the distinction betwixt the soul of Words and the body; betwixt that in them which is corporeal, and that in them which is spiritual; betwixt that which is common to us with Birds, and that which is peculiar to ourselves. The Ideas present to our Mind (when it commands the Organs of the Voice to form such Sounds as are the signs of those Ideas) are the Soul of our Words: The Sounds formed by the Organs of our Voice (which, though of themselves they have nothing resembling those Ideas, do notwithstanding represent them) are the material part, and may be called the Body of our Words.   

II.  
Before we speak, we ought to form a Scheme in our Minds of what we desire to say.  
A Painter will not lay on his Colours till he has form in his imagination what he designs to draw. Discourse is the Picture of our thoughts; the Tongue is the Pencil which draws that Picture; and Words are the Colours. We ought therefore in the first place to range our Thoughts, and put such things as we intent to represent by our Words into natural order; disposing them so, that the knowledge of some few of them, may render the rest more easy and intelligible to the Reader.  
The Natural Order to be observed in the ranging of our thoughts, belongs properly to those that write of the Art of Thinking. Every Art has its bounds, which are not to be transgressed. For such things as reiate to the Matter of our Discourse, my following Rules will not be (I suppose) unworthy of Consideration. The first is, That we meditate upon our Subject, and make all reflection necessary for the discovery of such means as may direct us to our proposed end. We must forget nothing that may make that Subject perspicuous. But it many times happens, that endeavouring to clear and explain a thing, we overcharge the attention of the Reader, and render it more abstruse, by our prolix explications. Abundance is sometimes the cause of sterility: The Husbandman fears the rankness of his Corn, and feeds his Sheep with it to prevent it. We cannot comprehend any Argument or Science, unless our meditation supply us with things necessary, and retrench what is superfluous; which pains an Author is to spare to such persons as he undertakes to instruct. A Man that writes by halves, gives an imperfect account; but a great book is a great evil; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. We wander in it, we lose ourselves, and have scarce patience to turn it over. When therefore we have made an exact collection of all things relating to the matter of which we treat, we must contract them, reduce them to their just bounds, and making a strict choice and selection of what are absolutely necessary, reject the rest as superfluous. We are to be continually intent upon the end to which we would arrive; we are to take the shortest cut to it, and avoid all manner of deviation. Unless we slightly run over things of small importance, not at all essential to our design, our Reader will be weary, and his application diverted from such as are.  
This Brevity, so necessary to make a Book neat and compact, consists not only in the retrenchment of what is unnecessary, but requires that we insert such circumstances as may illustrate our discourse, and imply many things that are not expressed. For this, we are to imitate the address of Timanthes, the famous Painter, who being to represent the prodigious stature of a Giant in a small picture, painted him lying along in the midst of a Troop of Satyrs, one of which was measuring the Giant's Thumb with his Thyrse; intimating by that ingenious invention, how vast his Body must needs be, when so small a part of him was to be measured with a Lance. These Inventions require much wit, and application; and therefore it was, that Mons▪ Pascal (an Author very famous for his felicity in comprising much in few words) excused himself wittily for the extravagant length of one of his Letters, by saying, he had not time to make it shorter.   

III.  
To signify the difference of our Thoughts, we have need of Words of different Orders.  
AS we cannot finish a Picture, nor distinguish the different strokes of things to be represented therein, with one single Colour; so 'tis impossible to express whatever occurs in our Mind, with Words of one single Order. Let Nature be Mistress in this case, and teach us what this distinction ought to be; let us see how Men would form their Language, and make themselves intelligible one to another, should they be brought together from strange and remote places. Let us make use of the liberty of the Poets, and fetch either out of the Earth or the Heavens a Troop of new Men, altogether ignorant of the benefit of Words. The sight must needs be agreeable, because it is pleasant to fancy them speaking, and conversing together with their Hands, their Eyes, gestures and contortions of their Bodies; but it is plain, it would not be long before they would be weary of these postures, and either chance or discretion would show them the conveniency of Words.  
We cannot discover what form they would give to their Language, but by considering what we ourselves should do in the same company. Diversity of Words then, being necessary, only in respect of the different things which pass in our Mind, and we are inclined to impart; we must observe exactly all that so passes, that we may be enabled thereby to find out what we are to do to paint the different Features of our Thoughts.  
When our Organs of Sense are free, and undisturbed, we perceive what it is that strikes them, and at the same time we have the Ideas of such things present to our Mind. For which reason these Ideas are not improperly called, The Objects of our Perceptions. Besides these Ideas which result from our Senses, there are others fundamentally inherent in our Natures, and not falling that way into our Minds; as those which represent to us Natural and Original Truths, such as these, That we are to give every man his due; That it is impossible for a thing to be and not to be at the same time, etc.  
Doubtless if these new Men would make it their business to find out Words that might be signs of all these Ideas which are the Objects of our perception (which, according to the Philosophers, is the first operation of the Mind) in the infinite variety of Words, it would not be difficult to find particular signs to mark every Idea, and give it a particular Name. In as much as we naturally make use of these primitive Notions, we may believe, that if other things should present themselves to their Minds, bearing any resemblance or conformity to those things which they had denominated before, they would not take the pains to invent new words, but (with some little variation) make use of the first Names to denote the difference of the things to which they would apply them. Experience persuades me, that where a proper Word does not occur immediately to our Tongue, we should make use of the Name of some other thing bearing some kind of resemblance to it. In all Languages, the Names of things almost alike have very little difference: From one single Word many other are derived, as is obvious in the Dictionaries of such Languages as we know.  
The same Word may be diversified several ways; by transposition, retrenchment, addition of Vowels or Consonants, or by changing the Termination. So that it is no hard matter, when we give the proper Name of a particular thing, to several others that are like it, to signify by some little variation, what such things have in peculiar; and in what they differ from the things from whence they have their Names.   

IV.  
Nouns Substantives, Adjectives, and Articles.  
SUch Words as signify the Object of our Thoughts, (that is to say, Things) are called Nouns. We consider in every thing, its being, and its manner of being: The being of a thing, as for example, the being of Wax, is the substance of Wax. The roundness or squareness of the figure (which may be changed without prejudice to the Wax) are its manners of being. To be ignorant, or knowing, are manners of our being. It is necessary therefore, that among the Names of things, some should be appointed to signify the substance, and some the manner of their being. Those which describe the absolute being of a thing, are called Substantives. Those which describe the manner only, are called Adjectives, because having no natural subsistence of their own, they subsist by nothing but the Noun Substantive to which they are joined. In these two Words, Round Earth, the last is the Substantive, and the first signifies nothing but its manner of being. Nouns Substantives do become Adjectives, or rather things of absolute existence; and substances are expressed by Nouns Adjectives, when being applied to other things, they are used to signify their manner of being, as in these Adjectives, Silvered, Tinned, Leaded, etc.  
Nouns do commonly signify things in a general and unlimited way: Articles, in Languages where they are used, (as in Greek, Latin, French, etc.) do serve to restrain and determine the signification of Nouns, and apply them to a particular thing. If we say 'tis a happiness to be King, the expression is vagous', but if you add the to it, and say it is a happiness to be the King, it determins the business, and cannot be understood but of the King of a particular People mentioned before. So that Articles do contribute very much to the clearness of Discourse, and 'tis not impossible but these new Men, in the composure of their Language, would make use of them; and the necessity of determining the unfixed signification of Words would assist to the finding them out.  
The different ways of termination; may be instead of another Noun. We find in all Languages that Nouns have two several terminations. One imports the thing mentioned to be of the Singular Number, the other of the Plural; for which reason Nouns have generally two Numbers, the Singular and the Plural. The word Homo, with the termination of the Singular Number, implies only a single Person; but Homines, in the termination of the Plural, implies more Men; the variation of the termination serving instead of all, or many.   

V.  
How to mark the references which things have among themselves.  
WE do not always consider simply the things that are the Objects of our thoughts; we compare them with other things; we reflect upon the places where they are; upon the time of their duration; upon what they are; what they are not; and upon their references and relations. There is need of particular Terms to express these references, with the Series and Connexion of all the Ideas that the Consideration of these things imprints in our Minds. In some Languages the different terminations of the same Noun do create new differences, and supply those Words which are necessary to express the reference of a thing. These are commonly called Cases, and are six in each Number, both Singular and Plural. The Nominative, the Genitive, the Dative, the Accusative, the Vocative, and the Ablative. The same Noun (besides the principal Idea of the thing which it signifies) contains a particular reference betwixt that thing and some other, according as it is in the Genitive or the Dative Case, etc. The Nominative, signifies a thing simply and positively. The Genitive, its reference with the thing to which it relates, as Palatium Regis. The Dative, its relation to the thing as it tends to profit or prejudice, as Utilis Reipublicae. The Accusative, its relation to a thing which acts upon it, as Caesar vicit Pompeium. The Vocative, is used when we address our discourse to the person or thing signified by the Noun. The Ablative, is used in such infinite cases, that it is not possible to mark them all.  
The Languages whose Nouns do not admit of these different Cases, do make use of little words called Particles with the same effect; as of, the, to, by, they, etc. Adverbs are used likewise with little difference from the Declension of Nouns, carrying with them sometimes the force of those Particles, as this Adverb Wisely imports as much as these two Words together, With Wisdom. The different relations betwixt things, in respect of their place, situation, motion, repose, distance, opposition, and comparison, are infinite. We cannot discourse a moment, but something will arise to suggest them. We are not to doubt then, but these men, whom we suppose brought together from remote parts, of no correspondence, would quickly find out some way or other to signify these references and relations, either by Particles (as in the French, where the Nouns have not that way of Declension) or by the different terminations of the Names of the Things themselves, as in the Latin and Greek.    

CHAP. II.  

I.  
Of the Nature of Verbs.  
THe operations of the Mind are referred commonly to three principals. Perception, by which we discern the difference of things. Judgement, by which we affirm of a thing, that it is, or that it is not. And Ratiocination, by which we draw consequences to evince the truth or fallacy of a Proposition contested, by comparing it with one or more incontestable Propositions. If we attend seriously to what passes in our Mind, we shall find that we do rarely consider of things, without making judgement of them. So that when these new Men had furnished themselves with words to signify the objects of their Perceptions, they would doubtless seek out for words to express their Judgements, that is to say, the Action of the mind, which affirms that a thing is so, or not so. And the part in discourse which expresses our Judgement, is called a Proposition, which Proposition does necessarily comprehend two Terms, the Subject and the Attribute: The Subject is That of which we affirm: The Attribute is That which is affirmed of the thing. As in this Proposition: God is just; God is the Subject; Just is the Attribute, it being the thing affirmed, or attributed to the Subject of the Proposition. Besides these two, there is in every Proposition another Term, which couples the Subject with the Attribute, and signifies that Action of the Mind by which we judge, affirming the Attribute of the Subject; and the Terms which express this Action, are in all Languages called Verbs. Verbs, as is observed by a judicious Grammarian, are words which signify affirmation. A single word would suffice to signify all the like operations of our judgement, as the Verb Esse, which is the natural and ordinary sign of affirmation. But if we judge of these new Men, by those who have lived in all former Ages, the desire of contracting their discourse, would prompt them to make one word signify both the affirmation and attribute, according to the practice in many Languages, where infinite numbers of words doth denote both the affirmation and the thing affirmed. For example, I read imports an affirmation, and the action which I perform when I read, at the same time. These words, as is said before, are called Verbs. And when, in some Languages, they take from them the power of signifying affirmation, they degenerate into the nature of Nouns, and are used accordingly, as when in French we say, le boire, le manger.   

II.  
Of Pronouns. With one single Verb we may be able to express an entire Proposition.  
THe frequent repetition of the same words being disagreeable and troublesome, and we in the mean time obliged to speak often of the same thing; to rectify that inconvenience, in all Languages that are know to us, there are certain words established which are called Pronouns, and their number is three: The first implies the person speaking, as I; the second, the person to whom we speak, as You; the third, the person or thing of which we speak, as He, That. These Pronouns have two Numbers, as the Nouns. The Pronoun of the first Person, in the plural Number, implies the persons speaking, as We; the Pronoun of the second Person, in the plural Number, implies the persons to whom we speak, as Ye; and the Pronoun of the third Person, in the plural Number, implies the persons or things of which we speak, as They, Those.  
Again, to avoid the inconvenient repetition of these Pronouns, which otherwise would often occur; in the ancient Languages they added certain Terminations to their Verbs, which supplied the place of these Pronouns, by which means a single Verb became sufficient to make an entire Proposition; so this Verb Verbero, comprehends the sense of this whole Proposition, Ego sum verberans: And besides that this Verb intimates the affirmation, and the thing affirmed, it signifies also the person beating, who is the person that speaks of himself; and the reason is, because the Verb has a Termination that supplies the place of the Pronoun of the first Person.   

III.  
Of the Tenses of Verbs.  
What is affirmed of the Subject of a Proposition, is either past, present, or to come. The different inflexions of Verbs, have power to denote the circumstance of time belonging to the thing affirmed. The circumstances of time are very numerous: We may consider the time passed with reference to the present, as when I say, I was reading when he entered into my Chamber. The act of my reading is past, in regard of the time in which I speak; but I signify the time present, in regard of the thing of which I speak, which is the entrance of such a man. We may also consider the time past, with reference to another time past, as I had supped when he came in. Both which actions are past, in respect of one another. We may consider the time past two ways, as definite, or indefinite: We may speak precisely, when an action was done; or we may only say, it was done. We consider the Future Tense in the same manner, using sometimes a precise and definite term, and sometimes an indefinite, without any limitation.  
In this new Language that is proposed, we cannot tell whether all the different circumstances of times would be expressed by so many different inflexions, because we do not find the people have distinguished with the same exactness all the circumstances of time. The Hebrew Verbs have only two Tenses, the Preter Tense, and the Future Tense: They have but two inflexions to express the diversity of times. They make use of the inflexion of the Future Tense, to signify the Present Tense. The Greeks are more exact, their Verbs have all the Tenses aforesaid. Yet I doubt not, but the Terms of this new Language would bear at least the signs of some of these circumstances, seeing in every Proposition the time of the Attribute is to be determined; and the desire to abbreviate our discourse, is natural to all men. When I say, I shall love, the inflexion of the Future Tense that I give to that Verb, eases me of the trouble of this long Phrase, It will happen some time or other that I shall be in love. When I say, I have loved, the inflexion of the Preterperfect Tense saves me several of these Words, There was formerly a time when I was in love.   

IV.  
By Verbs may be signified the divers manners of affirming, and certain circumstances of the action which they imply.  
VErbs have their Moods, that is to say, they signify, besides the circumstances of time, the manner of the affirmation. The first is the Indicative Mood, which demonstrates simply what we affirm. The second is the Imperative, and implies a command to such a one to do such a thing. The third is the Optative, a Mood of great use among the Greeks, and intimating an ardent desire that such a thing may happen. The fourth is the Subjunctive, so called, because it has always some condition annexed to what we affirm, as I should love him, if he did love me. If that condition were not inserted after the Subjunctive, the sense would be doubtful. The fifth Mood is the Infinitive; a Verb in this Mood has a large and undetermined signification, as To drink, to eat, to be beloved, to be beaten, etc. We shall see hereafter that Infinitive Verbs are used principally for the coupling and connexion of two Propositions. A Participle may be said to be a sixth Mood. A Verb in its Participle signifies only the thing affirmed, and not the affirmation; and therefore they are called Participles, because they participate both of the Verb and of the Noun, signifying the thing affirmed by the Verb, without any affirmation. The Participle Beaten imports as much as the Verb To beat, yet he who says Beaten, affirms nothing, unless it be added or understood He is, or He has been beaten.  
All Verbs (except Sum, Es, Est, Esse) do comprehend two Ideas, the Idea of affirmation, and the Idea of some action affirmed. An action has commonly two terms, the first à quo, the second ad quem. In an action we consider the Author that acts, and the Person upon whom: The first is called the Agent, the second the Patient. It is necessary to determine the Term of the action of which we speak, whether it be the Subject of the Proposition, of which we affirm the action, that is either Agent or Patient; and therefore in ancient Languages, the Verbs have generally two Terminations, and different inflexions, which discover whether the Verb be taken actively or passively: As Petrus amat, & Petrus amatur; Peter loves, and Peter is beloved. In the first Proposition, the Verb being active, imports that it is Peter that loves; in the second Proposition, the same Verb, with a passive inflexion, implies that Peter is the Object of that love.  
It is not impossible then, but the Verbs of this new Language would have two inflexions, one active, the other passive. 'Tis possible they would not comprehend in one single Verb all the various circumstances of an action; as whether it was done with diligence, whether performed by the Author himself, or whether by an Instrument; which among the Hebrews was signified by the various inflexions of their Verbs. There are a hundred several ways of a Man's expressing himself, that are not essential, but peculiar to certain Languages. I cannot say whether our new Society would omit them, and stick only to those which were essential, and without which they could not explain themselves. But my design being only to display the fundamental Rules of the Art of Speaking, I hold myself obliged to enlarge only upon the last.   

V.  
What Words are necessary to express the other Operations of the Mind.  
WE have seen how the two first Operations of the Mind are to be expressed, that is to say, our Perception and Judgement. We come now to the third, which is our Reasoning or Argumentation. We argue, when from one or two clear and evident Propositions, we conclude the truth or falsity of a third Proposition that is obscure and disputable. As if to prove the innocence of Milo we should say thus: It is lawful to repel force by force, Milo, in killing Clodius, did only repel force by force; Ergo, Milo did lawfully kill Clodius. Reasoning is but an extension of the second Operation, and a chaining of two or more Propositions. It is evident we have need only of some short words to make this connexion, as these Particles, then, at length, for, for as much, seeing that, etc. Some Philosophers will have a fourth Operation of the Mind, and they call it Method, by which they range and dispose their Arguments into order. This disposition and order may be expressed by certain Particles.  
The other Actions of our Mind, by which we distinguish, divide, compare, connect, etc. are reducible to one of these four Operations, and are expressed by certain Particles, which receive different denominations, according to the difference of their office. Those whose office it is to unite, are called Copulatives, as Et. Those which divide, are called Negatives, or Adversatives, as Not, But. Others are conditional, as If, etc. These Particles do not signify the Objects of our Thoughts, but some particular Action of the Mind, as we have said before. Discourse is but a connexion or continuation of several Propositions; and therefore Men have sought out ways of signifying the connexion of several Propositions. Our That answers the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the Greeks, and performs that office, as when we say, I know that God is just, 'tis evident the word That unites the two Propositions I know, and God is just; showing also that the said Propositions were united in our Minds. Sometimes for shortness sake the Verb in the second Proposition is used in the Infinitive Mood, and 'tis one of the greatest uses of the Infinitive, to couple two Propositions in that manner.   

VI  
The Construction of Words, and Rules for that Construction.  
HAving found all the Terms of a Language, the next thing to be considered is the array or disposition of those Terms. If the words which comprehend a Proposition, do not carry marks and tokens to signify the connexion which they ought to have; and if we perceive not their scope, the discourse produces no reasonable sense in the Mind of the Auditor. Among the Nouns, as we have said before, some signify the things, and others the manner of those things. The first are called Substantives, the second are called Adjectives. In like manner, as the Modes of Being, appertain to the Being itself, the Adjectives ought to depend upon the Substantives, and carry the marks of their dependence. In a Proposition, the Term that is the Attribute of it, refers to the Subject of it, and that reference ought to be expressed.  
The Nouns of all known Languages are distinguished by different Terminations, in two Genders: The first is called the Masculine, the second the Feminine. The inconstancy of custom is very strange in this distribution, sometimes the Gender has been determined by the Sex, and the Names of Men, and every thing belonging to them, were of the Masculine Gender. The Names of Women, and all things relating to them, were of the Feminine, with regard only to the signification: And another time, without considering either the signification or termination, it has given to Nouns what Gender it pleased. Nouns Adjectives, and other words, which signify rather the manners of things, than the things themselves, have usually two terminations; one Masculine, the other Feminine: The Hebrew Verbs are capable of different Genders, as well as their Nouns.  
The difference of Genders serves to denote the connexion of the members of Discourse, and their dependence one upon another. Adjectives have always the same Gender with their Substantives; that is to say, if the Noun Substantive be Masculine, the Adjective has a Masculine Termination; and it is that Termination that shows to which it belongs. When a Thing is multiplied, its manners of being are multiplied also; and therefore the Adjectives are likewise to follow the Number of their Substantives, whether Singular or Plural. Verbs have two Numbers like the Nouns: In the Singular, they imply that the Subject of the Proposition is single: In the Plural, they imply a plurality in the Subject: And therefore Verbs are to be put in the same Number with the Noun that is the Subject of the Proposition, whether it be expressed or understood.  
Men are sometimes so intent upon things, that they do not reflect upon their Names, nor regard what is their Gender, or what is their Number: They regulate their discourse by the things: They place the Verb in the Plural, though it agree with a Noun of the Singular Number, because they look upon the Noun collectively, and importing an Idea of Plurality; as in Virgil, Pars Mersi tenuere ratem, for Pars Mersa tenuit ratem; because without respect to the word Pars, which is of the Feminine Gender and Singular Number, he speaks of Men, which are the Masculine and Plural Number. So in French at Six of the clock we say, Il est six heures, considering the six hours as a determined point of time. Sometimes we omit, or neglect a word, that those to whom we speak may supply it, as in Latin where it is said Triste Lupus stabulis, the word negotium is understood.  
Figures, are extraordinary ways of speaking. There are Figures of Rhetoric, and Figures of Grammar: Rhetorical Figures express the commotions and violent agitations of the Mind, in our passions; or form an agreeable cadence. Figures Grammatical are used in construction when we digress from ordinary Rules, as in this manner of expression we now mention, which by the Grammarians is called Syllepsis, or Conceptio, because in that, we conceive the sense otherwise than is imported by the words, and so the construction is made accordingly. Sometimes we may make use of different expressions which give the same Idea, so that 'tis indifferent which of them we use, as Dare classibus austros, or Dare classes austris: And when of these two ways of speaking, we make choice of that which is least used, we call it Hypallage, or Immutation.    

CHAP. III.  

I.  
We must express all the principal Ideas or Images that are form in our Mind.  
When all the Images that are form in the Mind of the Speaker, are not legible and plain, his Discourse is imperfect. When we speak therefore, it is necessary that every one of those Ideas which we desire to communicate, have some sign or other to represent it in our Discourse. But we must observe likewise, that there are words which have the power of signifying several things, and are able, besides their principal Ideas, to awaken many others.  
Nouns, in Languages that admit of different Cases, do signify at the same time both the things and their references, as is said before. Verbs have a power of signifying a whole Proposition, the Subject, Attribute, and Copula. When all our Ideas are expressed with their connexion, 'tis not possible to understand all that we think, unless we give our thoughts such signs as are necessary: For which reason, they speak most clearly and intelligibly, who speak most simply, and most according to the natural order and impressions upon their Mind.  
'Tis true, that Discourse is tedious, where we give to every thing that we desire to signify, particular terms; 'tis tyresome to the hearer, if he has but common capacity. Besides, our ardour and impatience to communicate our thoughts, will not endure so great a number of words: When it is possible, we choose rather to explain ourselves by a single word, and do therefore select such terms as may excite several Ideas, and by consequence supply the place of words; and we retrench such, as being omitted, cannot produce obscurity. The Rule to be observed, is, to have a particular regard to the capacity of the person to whom we speak; if his parts be but indifferent, we must speak every thing expressly, and leave nothing to his divination.  
The Ellipsis or retrenchment of some part of our Discourse, is a Grammatical Figure, as in this Latin Expression, Paucis te volo, in which these words, verbis alloqui, are left out. This Figure is very common in the Oriental Languages: The People of those Countries being hot, and quick, their ardour and vehemence will not permit them to speak any thing in terminis that may be as well understood. The French Language uses not this kind of Figure so frequently, nor indeed any other of the Grammatical Figures: It affects clearness and perspicuity, and therefore as near as possible, expresses every thing in the simplest and most natural order.  
When we speak, we ought particularly to consider the principal things, and make choice for them of such Expressions, as may make deepest impressions in the Mind of the Hearer, either by the multitude of Ideas they contain, or otherwise. A Painter draws the principal Lines of his Picture gross, and then heightens it with his colours; in the mean time sweetening and refining his other strokes, that their softness and obscurity may set off the lustre of the other. Trifling things, that are not essential to Discourse, should be mentioned by the By: 'Twould show great defect of judgement to dilate upon them; it would divert the Reader, and take off his Mind from that which is more material. There are two ways (and those very different) of transgressing in our choice of Expressions: The one is, when we are too diffuse and prodigal; the other, when we are too sparing and dry. The last represents only the carcase of things; and are like the first Touches in a Picture, by which the Painter marks only the places where he designs the Eyes, Mouth, Ears, etc. The first by its secundity and redundance perplexes as much on the other side. A just temperament is to be observed therefore. When the Painter has perfected his necessary strokes, all that he adds afterwards does but spoil what he did before. Words that are superfluous, do but render the necessary more obscure, and hinder their impression; they tire the Ear, and never reach the Memory.  Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat. 
Politeness consists partly in a strict retrenchment of unnecessary words, which are as it were the Excrements of Discourse: A thing is polished, when the little rugged particles are taken away with the File, and the surface made smooth and even. This repetition of words, which serves only to lengthen out discourse, and tire the Reader, is called by the Grammarians Tautology. When discourse is filled up with unnecessary and superfluous words, it is called Perissology. Nevertheless we are not obliged to such frugality, that we should be afraid to add one word more than is necessary, as when in Latin we say vivere vitam, auribus audire: This is an Elegancy sometimes, and called a Pleonasmus, expressing a vehemency in us, and a greater certainty in the thing.   

II.  
What ought to be the order or disposition of Words.  
AS to the ordering of Words, and the Rules to be observed in ranging a Discourse, Natural Light directs us so clearly, that no Man can be ignorant. We cannot conceive the sense of a discourse, if we do not understand the matter of it first.  
Natural order requires therefore, that in every Proposition the Noun that signifies the Subject of it, be placed first: If it be accompanied with an Adjective, that the Adjective be put after it: That the Attribute be placed after the Verb that couples the Subject with the Attribute: That the Particles which denote the reference betwixt one thing and another be inserted betwixt them: That the Words which make the connexion may be found betwixt the two Propositions.  
And this, as near as we can, is the Natural Order to be commonly observed in Discourse. I say commonly, because in some cases we may transgress with advantage; and this transgression is an ornament among the Grammarians, and a Figure called Hyperbaton: Of which sort Virgil has one in these Verses: 
Furit immissis Vulcanus habenis  
Transtra per & Remos.  The Preposition per being out of its natural place.  
When we reject a word to the end of a Proposition, without which word the sense of the Proposition is imperfect, the interruption which the Reader receives, makes him more attentive; his desire of understanding it grows more vehement and ardent, and his impatience makes his conception the clearer. Besides, this little transgression does many times make the Proposition strong and intellible; for the Reader, to understand the sense of it, being obliged to meditate and consider all the parts together, that consideration impresses him the more. For this reason no doubt the Romans and the Greeks did frequently put the Verb at the end of the Proposition, and having the authority of custom, it is not altogether to be blamed: But he who intends to write clearly and simply, must observe Natural Order as much as in him lies: I say as much as in him lies, because sometimes we are obliged to transgress, to avoid the concurrence of certain rough words that will not admit of conjunction.  
This array and disposition of words, is well worth our serious application: And we may affirm, that it is by this Art of well placing their words, that those excellent Orators have distinguished themselves from the multitude. For words being not made by the Orator, but natural to every body, 'tis only the faculty of ranging them well, and inducing them properly, that belongs to them, and pronounces them Orators.  
Dixeris egregiè, notum si callida verbum  
Reddiderit junctura novum—  
I speak not here of that disposition of words, which renders a Discourse harmonious, but of that which renders it clear. Clearness without doubt depends much upon Natural Order; and whatever interrupts that Order, perplexes our Discourse. But there are many Errors opposed to this Natural Order, and by consequence to that clearness that ought to be observed. The first is the Hyperbaton, or too bold and frequent transposition of words. Our Language is so great a Lover of clearness, that it admits none of those transgressions. It would not be Elegant to say, There is no man, who more than he, may justly promise himself glory: We are rather to say, There is no man, who more justly than he, may promise himself glory. A second Vice consists in the multitude and huddle of words, when we express our thoughts by long and tedious circumlocutions, or insert words that are altogether unnecessary, as thus: In this, many people do continually and wonderfully abuse their leisure: This Expression is confused, and it would be much better to cut off what is superfluous, reducing it to these terms: In this, many abuse their leisure. Another defect is, when we do not exactly observe the Rules of Syntax or Construction. Other terms there are, whose signification being vagous' and indefinite, cannot be determined but by their relation to some other term. When we make use of such terms, and do not signify their reference, we make our Propositions doubtful and equivocal. As if I should say, He always loved such a person in his affliction; it would be equivocal, because the Reader would not be able to determine to whom the Pronoun his related, whether to the person who loved, or the person in affliction; which fault would be very considerable. There is another thing also, that is a great enemy to clearness, and that is, when our Expressions seem to look one way, and are intended another, as in this Answer of the Oracle: Aiote, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse. Pyrrhus, the Son of Aeacus, to whom this Answer was addressed, understood it thus, O Son of Aeacus, I say you may overcome the Romans: Whereas it was meant, that the Romans should overcome him. This defect is called by the Greeks, Amphibologia. Besides these, long Parentheses, and too frequent, are neither decent nor convenient, as may be observed too often in several Authors.   

III.  
How we may express the Passions and Motions of our Mind.  
ALL that passes in our Minds, is either action or passion. We have seen already which way we may express our actions: Let us now see what Nature dictates to signify our passions, that is, to signify the esteem, contempt, love, or hatred we bear to things, which should be the objects of our thoughts and our affections. Our Discourse is imperfect, unless it carry with it the marks of the Motions of our Will: It resembles our Mind (whose Image it ought to bear) no more than a dead Carcase resembles a living Body. To resolve therefore, what our new Men would be obliged to do to express their passions, let us see what we ourselves should do, had we the same parts in that Comedy.  
There are Names which have two Ideas: That which may be called the principal Idea, represents the thing signified. The other (which may be termed the accessary) represents it as invested with such and such circumstances. For example, the word Liar implies a person reprehended for not speaking the truth; but it imports likewise that the person reprehended is esteemed an ill person, one who has cunningly or maliciously concealed the truth, and therefore deserves our hatred and contempt.  
These second Ideas, which we have called accessories, are annexed to the Names of things, and to their principal Ideas, in this manner: When custom has obtained, that we speak with certain terms of what we esteem, these terms do instantly assume an Idea of Grandeur: In so much that a person no sooner makes use of those terms, but we conceive he has an esteem for those things of which he speaks. When we speak in passion, the air of our looks, the tone of our voice, and several other circumstances, are sufficient to signify our commotion. And the very words, of which we make use upon those occasions, may afterwards of themselves renew the Idea of those commotions: As when we have often seen one of our Friends in a certain habit, the same sort of habit is capable of reviving the Idea of our Friend. All proper Names of Natural things have their accessary Ideas, but they are smutty and obscene: For loose and debauched people speaking of these things in an unusual and immodest way, the foul images of their thoughts, are annexed to the very words; and therefore we may take up the same complaint, that was long since made by a wise Pagan, and say, Honesta nomina perdidimus.  
So then, the words themselves contracting accessary Ideas that represent the things, and the manner in which those things are conceived, our new Gentlemen would have no trouble to invent new words to signify these accessary Ideas. It would plainly appear, that in their new Language there would be terms sufficient to express the different Motions, as the love, hatred, esteem, contempt, etc. of the Speaker. And moreover (as we shall demonstrate hereafter) our Passions do often describe themselves in our Discourse, and form their own Characters without study or Art.  
We have seen what Men are obliged to do of necessity, to signify their thoughts; let us now see what depends upon their choice. Having all of us one and the same Nature, (be the Language that we speak what it will) we follow all those Rules which we have shown to be Natural, and Essential to the Art of Speaking. But it is yet in our power to choose, among the infinite variety of words, what we think good; and this liberty is it that has changed all the ancient Languages, and does still refine or impair them every day.  
Diversity of Languages is incommodious, and a great impediment to Society and Trade. Some persons have anciently proposed to make an Universal Language, which might be learned in a short time, and be common to the whole World. I conceive the great Secret of those Undertakers lay in making that Language to consist of few words: They would have had every thing expressed by one single term, and that term, with some little alteration, should have signified all other things that had reference to it. They would have made all their Nouns indeclinable, denoting their different cases by Particles, and their three Genders by three Terminations. They would have had but two Conjugations, one to signify the active, and the other the passive: Nor should their Tenses have had different Terminations instead of Pronouns. By which the whole Grammar of that Language might have been quickly and easily learned.    

CHAP. IU.  

I.  
Custom is the Master of all Language.  
CUstom is the Master and Sovereign Arbiter of all Languages. No Man can dispute its Empire, as being established by Necessity, and confirmed by Universal Consent. It is of the nature of a Sign▪ to be known to those who make use of it. Words are signs of those Ideas to which they have been formerly joined. It is necessary therefore to employ them only for the signification of things, whose significations were known before by the persons to whom we speak. We might, if we please, call a Horse a Dog, and a Dog a Horse; but the Idea of the first being fixed already to the word Horse, and the latter to the word Dog, we cannot transpose them, nor take the one for the other, without an entire confusion to the Conversation of Mankind. It is ridiculous fantasticalness, not to follow those Modes which long Custom has established: And it is little less than stupidity, when we speak, to leave the ordinary Methods, and deliver our thoughts in dark obsolete terms, when we desire to impart them.  
'Tis the same thing with us in respect of Language, as in respect of Habit. Some People push on the Modes to the highest extremity: Others with as much eagerness and vanity oppose themselves against them. Some People affect such terms and expressions as are modern or new: Others, digging into the Dialects of their Great Grandfathers, will not speak a word now, that was not in use two hundred years since. Both of them are too blame. When Custom affords not terms proper to express what we have to say, it is lawful to use such words as are almost antiquated and lost: Nay a Man is excusable, if to make himself understood, he coins a new word: In that case we may blame the barrenness of our Language, but must commend the fecundity of his Wit that was able to supply it. Datur venia verborum novitati, obscuritati rerum servienti. With this proviso notwithstanding, that the word be a la mode, and not dressed up in a sound quite differing from the usual words.   

II.  
There is a good and a bad Custom, and three ways to distinguish them.  
When we advance Custom to the Throne, and make it Sovereign Arbiter of all Languages, we do not intend to put the Sceptre into the hands of the Populace. There is a good, and there is a bad Custom: And as good Men are the properest Examples to those who desire to live well; so the practice of good Speakers is the fittest Rule for those who would speak well. Usum, qui sit Arbiter dicendi (says Quintil.) vocamus consensum eruditorum, sicut vivendi, consensum bonorum. But it is no hard matter to discern betwixt the good and the bad; betwixt the depraved Language of the common people, and the noble and refined Expressions of the Gentry, whose condition and merits have advanced them above the other.  
And to make this distinction, there are three ways. The first is Experience: We are to observe those who speak well; we are to consider the manner of their expressions, what latitude they give to their words, what it is that they affect, and what it is they avoid: If we cannot arrive at their conversation, we have Books, where Men speak commonly with more exactness, having time and leisure to correct such improprieties as slip unavoidably in discourse; for the Memory being full of ill words continually sounded by the common people, 'tis very hard to be so constantly upon our guard, as not to let some of them fall from us in conversation before we are aware. When we write, we review what we have done, and expunge such expressions as we find unapt or impertinent.  
The second way to discriminate betwixt good Customs and bad, is Reason. All Languages have the same Fundamentals, which Men would establish, if by accident (like that we have pretended) they were obliged to invent a new Language. By the Notion we have given of these Fundamentals, we may make ourselves Masters and Judges of any Language, and condemn the Laws of Custom where they are opposite to the Laws of Nature and Reason. Though we have no right to establish new words, we have liberty to reject such as are bad. Languages are never refined, till Men begin to canvas and examine them; till such Expressions are exploded, as corrupt Use has introduced; but those are not to be found out by the ordinary people: It must be learned and sagacious Men, and Men that have exact knowledge of this Art. When just and proper Expressions are used, a Language may be said to refine, and the discontinuance from speaking ill fixes the custom of speaking well.  
Yet in the establishment of Language, Reason (as we have shown in the precedent Chapters) prescribes but very few Laws; the rest depend upon the Will and consent of Men. In speaking, the whole World proposes but one end; but because we may arrive at that end by different ways, the liberty of choosing them as we please, causes difference in the manner of expression, even in the same Language. Nevertheless, notwithstanding the liberty Authors have taken in the formation of Language, we may observe a certain uniformity, and constant regularity running quite through all our Expressions. Men do commonly adhere to such customs as they have formerly embraced. Wherefore, though words depend much upon the fancy and capriccio of Men, yet, as is said before, we may discern a certain uniformity in Custom.  
If we know then, that words of such a sound, are of such a Gender; when we doubt of the Gender of another word, we must compare it with words of the same termination, whose Gender is known: And so in Verbs, if I would know (in the French Language) whether the third person of the Preterperfect Tense of a proposed Verb be to end in a, I go no farther than to the Infinitive, and if that ends in er, my business is done; because 'tis evident all Verbs of that Language, ending in er in the Infinitive, do end with a in the Tense and person aforesaid.  
This way of understanding the Custom of a Language, by comparing its expressions, and considering the proportion which they bear one to the other, is called Analogy, which is a Greek word, and signifies proportion. By means of their Analogy, it is that Languages have been fixed: By virtue of Analogy Grammarians have found out their Rules, and the good Customs of a Language; have composed their Grammars, which, if well made, are very useful, as furnishing us with Rules in short, which we should be obliged to find out by Analogy with infinite labour and diligence.  
Of all the three ways for the discovery of good Custom, Experience is the best. Custom is always Master: Our choice must be of the most reasonable expressions, and by that choice Languages are purged of their impurities. But when Custom affords but one single word or phrase, to express what we are obliged to say; Reason permits that we give place to Custom, though it be contrary to Reason; nor are we to be blamed at all, if the expression be bad. This was the occasion of that old and true Maxim among the Lawyers, Communis error facit jus. Analogy is not the Mistress of Language; she is not come down from Heaven to give Laws in that case; she describes only the Laws of Custom. Non est lex loquendi, sed observatio. Quintil.  
To perfectly understand the Customs of a Language, we must inform ourselves of the Genius, and observe the Idioms, or peculiar Manners of Speaking which belong to it. The Genius of a Language consists in certain qualites, which those who speak do affect to give to their Style. The Genius of the French Language is perspicuity and liveliness; in which they differ much from the Eastern Nations, who do rather prefer mysterious and enigmatical expressions, that may find work for the thought. Idioms distinguish Languages one from the other, as well as words. To speak French, it is not enough to make use of French words; for if we jumble them together, or dispose them as a Germane would do the words of his own Language, we should rather speak Dutch than French. We call Hebraisms, the Idioms of Hebrew; Hellenisms, the Proprieties of Greek; and so of the rest. 'Tis an Hebraism to say Vanity of Vanities, instead of The greatest of all Vanities; as also to signify distribution, by repetition of the same word, as in this Sentence: Noah put into the Ark seven, and seven of all Creatures, to signify that Noah put into the Ark seven pairs or couples of all Creatures. 'Tis an Hellenism to use the Infinitive instead of a Noun; and that Idiom is frequent in our Language, which has great affinity with the Greek. Expressions obsolete, rejected by new custom, and to be found only in ancient Authors, are called Archaisms. Every Province has its Idiom, which it is no easy matter to quit. Titus Livius, an Author of great Eloquence and Purity, could not cleanse his Style from the impurities of Milan, where he was born. Asinius Pollio tells us: In Tito Livio, mirae facundiae viro, puto inesse quandam Patavinitatem.   

III.  
Words are not to be used but in their proper signification, and to express the Idea to which Custom has annexed them.  
SInce than we are to submit to the Tyranny of Custom, we must follow her Laws, and observe them strictly. The first thing to be considered, are the particular words, whose peculiar Ideas are to be inquired after exactly, and not employed but in their proper significations, that is to say, to signify exactly the Ideas to which custom has affixed them. Besides which, we are to have regard to the accessary Ideas that belong to them, otherwise we shall be in danger of mistaking, and give a low and abject Idea to things which perhaps we design to illustrate.  
Some are of opinion, that to speak well, it is sufficient to make use only of such words as are authorised by custom, as we have said before; but we must also take our words in the precise signification that custom affords. To draw the Picture of the King, 'tis not enough that we draw a Face with two Eyes, a Nose, and a Mouth; but we must express the Features, and particular Lineaments of the King's Face.  
Some People fancy themselves Eloquent, if they can but throng their Memories with Phrases, huddled together out of the Works of such Persons as are renowned for their Eloquence; but they are mistaken, and those who take that course shall never be exact. They accommodate their Matter to their Phrase, without considering in what place, or upon what occasion it was used by the Author. So that their Style becomes wild and extravagant, like a Grottesque Picture, patched up of Shells of a thousand several colours, and other whimsies, that have not the least natural relation to the Figure represented.  
Phrases in Discourse, like patches in a Cloak, are great signs of poverty of the Master: For they serve only to fill up void places, and he that abounds with them, shall never write short.   

IV.  
We are to consider whether the Ideas of the Words we join, may be joined as properly.  
IT is not enough that we make choice of proper and familiar terms, unless their connexion be reasonable. Without that, our Discourse will have no more form, than the Letters of a Press thrown by accident upon a Table. For though the Idea of every word separately and alone may be sufficiently clear, yet joined together, they may be Nonsense, because the Ideas to which they are applied by custom, may be incompatible. These two words, Square, and Round, are very good, and their Ideas intelligible: We do readily understand what it is to be Square, and what to be Round: But if we should say a Square Round, no body could comprehend it. If I should say, such a one was shod with his gloves, who could understand it? yet shod, and gloves, are words that every Man knows. If when a Man gets up, I should bid him Descend upon his Horse, the standers by would think me a Sot. When the repugnance betwixt the Ideas is not so manifest, and the connexion of the terms not so palpably condemned by custom, as in these two expressions, shod with gloves, and descended upon his Horse, many people are not disgusted. These following words being spoke in company before several persons, most of them would be taken with their noise, and not perceive that they carried in them nothing of sense or signification: Noble and brave Battles that carry high Destinies beyond the Seas. The words are good, and intelligible of themselves, but applied in that manner, they signify nothing.  Accumulation of honours, undermines their foundation. 
Who can tell what the Author says in that Verse? The Ideas of accumulating and undermining are incompatible, and 'tis not possible to reconcile them. We know what the Poet intended, but he was out in his Expression. This is rather our want of Judgement, than ignorance of Language; so that to speak exactly, we must study as well to adapt our Judgement as Tongue.  
For the Order to be given to words, when they are joined together, our Ears do instruct us so sensibly what Rules are to be observed, that we have no need to mention them here. Custom does not always observe Natural Order in certain words. It requires that some be placed first, and others follow at a distance. The Ear being used to these kinds of array, perceives the least transgression, and is offended at it. We are more disturbed at a thing ungrateful to our Senses, than to our Reason: Nonsense, or an Error in arguing, would be less abominable, than if a Man should transpose his words, and say Head my, for my Head. And this is a fault so visible, 'tis not worth an admonishment.  
A Discourse is pure, when we follow the best Custom, when we use what it approves, and reject what it condemns. The Vices opposed to this Purity, are Barbarisms, and Solecisms. The Grammarians do not agree about the definition of these two Vices. Monsieur de Vaugelas applies Barbarism only to Words, Phrases, and Particles; and Solecism to Declensions, Conjugations, and Construction. We commit a Barbarism in using a word for English that is not English, in using an English word improperly; in using an Adverb for a Preposition; in using a Phrase improperly: 'Tis a Barbarism likewise to use or omit such Particles as are unnecessary or convenient. And the same absurdity committed in Declension, Conjugation, or Construction, is a Solecism.  
Monsieur de Vaugelas has distinguished very well, betwixt the clearness we mentioned in the precedent Chapter, and the purity we have mentioned in this. A pure Style is that which Quintil. calls Emendata Oratio: A clear Style is that which he calls Dilucida Oratio. And these are so different (says Monsieur de Vaugelas) that there are thousands of people, who write clearly and intelligibly in all sort of matters, (that is to say, explain themselves so, as the meanest capacity may conceive what they intent) and yet nothing more impure than their Style. On the other side, there are those who write purely and correctly, without either Barbarism or Solecism; yet their words are ranged so ill, their Periods so ill ordered, and their Style so perplexed and confused, they are not, without great difficulty, to be understood.   

V.  
'Tis Choice of Expression that makes a Man Elegant.  
THe best Expressions grow low and degenerate, when profaned by the Populace, and applied to mean things. The use they make of them, infecting them with a mean and abject Idea, causes, that we cannot use them without out sullying and defiling those things, which are signified by them. Vulgar Expressions are carefully avoided by those who write politely; and caution, as to them, is the occasion of continual alteration of Languages.  
Ut Sylvae foliis pronos mutantur in Annos,  
Prima cadunt; ita verborum vetus interit aetas,  
Et Juvenum ritu, florent modo nata, vigentque.  
Persons of Quality and Learning, endeavour to advance themselves above the Vulgar, and therefore avoiding to speak like them, will not make use of Expressions that they have spoiled. Persons of Condition are readily imitated by every body, so that in a short time, those Words which are rejected by the Rich or the Learned, are rejected by every body, and forced from the Court and the City, to retire into the Country, and become the Language of the Peasants.  
To be short: Besides exact keeping of the Laws of Custom, and the care of making use only of pure ways of Speaking; it must be confessed, that that which advanced those Persons, who are most Eminent for their Eloquence, was a certain Art and Felicity they had in finding out rich and ingenious Expressions to signify their thoughts. It requires no great care nor pains to avoid the Censure of the Critic; but we cannot please every body without extraordinary fortune. Who can find fault with these following words? 'Tis to Cadmus that Greece is indebted for the Invention of Letters: 'Tis to him she is indebted for the Art of Writing. Yet I have read the same thing expressed with more fancy and charm.     

THE SECOND PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.  

CHAP. I.  

I.  
No Language is rich enough to supply us with terms capable of expressing all the different faces upon which the same thing may be represented: We must have recourse to certain manners of Speaking, called Tropes, whose Nature and Invention shall be explained in this Chapter.  
THe Mind of Man is so fertile, all the Languages in the World are too barren to express its fecundity. It turns things so many ways, and represents things with so many different faces, that 'tis impossible to contrive words for all the forms of our thoughts: The ordinary terms are not always adequate, they are either too strong or too weak. Wherefore to express our meaning exactly, we are many times obliged to the same address we are glad to make use of, when we know not the Man's Name of whom we desire to speak; we do it by such signs and circumstances, as by their connexion to his person, do stir up and excite that Idea, which we could not signify by his proper Name; that is, we describe him as a Soldier, Magistrate, Dwarf, etc.  Crine ruber, niger o'er, brevis pede, lumine laesus. 
Those Objects that have reference and connexion betwixt them, have their Ideas also in some manner connexed. We no sooner see a Soldier, but War occurs immediately to our Memory: We no sooner see a Man, but we remember all those whom we have observed to resemble him. So the Idea of a thing may be excited at the naming of any of those things, with which it has any resemblance.  
When to express a thing, we make use of an improper word, which Custom has applied to another Subject, that way of explaining ourselves is figurative; and the words so transported from their proper signification, and applied to other things than what they naturally mean, are called Tropes, or Changes of Custom, as the Greek Verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 imports. These Tropes do not signify the things to which they are applied, otherwise than by reason of the connexion and reference that those things have with the things whose Names they do properly bear: So that we may reckon, there are as many sort of Tropes, as there are different references; but it has pleased the Masters of this Art to establish but few.   

II.  
A List of the most considerable Tropes.  

METONYMIA.  
I Place this Metonymy at the head of the Tropes, because it comprehends several sorts of them, and is the most capacious of them all. Metonymia, in Latin Transnominatio, is the putting off one Name for another; and as oft as we use any name or word to express a thing, besides that which is proper to it, we express ourselves by a Metonymy. As if we should say: Caesar ravaged the Gauls: All the World reads Cicero: Paris is alarmed. It would be plain we intended, Caesar's Army ravaged the Gauls: The World read Cicero 's Works: And, That the People in Paris are alarmed. There is so strong relation betwixt a General and his Army, betwixt an Author and his Works, betwixt a Town and its Inhabitants; that we cannot think of the one, but the Idea of the other presents itself instantly to our Minds; which is the cause, that this changing of Names produces nothing of confusion.   

SYNECDOCHE.  
Synecdoche is a kind of Metonymy, where we put the name of the whole for a part, or the name of a part for the whole: As if we should say Europe for France, or France for Europe: The Nightingale for Birds in general, or the Bird for the Nightingale: The Tree for a particular Tree. If we should say, The Plague is in England, when perhaps it is only in London: Or, That it is in London, when it is all over the Kingdom. If speaking particularly of the Nightingale, or of an Oak, we should say, This is a fine Bird, This is a fine Tree. So that by the benefit of a Metonymy we have liberty to use the name of a part for the whole, or the whole for a part.  
We refer also to this Trope, the liberty we take to put a certain for an uncertain Number: We may say, This House has an hundred fair Avenues, when perhaps it has more or less: And to make our reckoning round and complete, if a Man be ninety nine years old and odd months, we may say he is an hundred, without any great Solecism.   

ANTONOMASIA.  
Antonomasia is a sort of Metonymy, when we apply the proper Name of one thing to several others; or è contrario, the Names of several things to one. Sardanapalus was a voluptuous King: Nero a cruel Emperor. By this Figure Antonomasia, we call any voluptuous person a Sardanapalus, and any cruel person a Nero. The words Orator, Poet, Philosopher, are common words, and to be given to all of the respective Professions; yet they are applied to particular persons, as if they were only proper to them: When we speak of Cicero, we say the Orator gives us this Precept in his Rhetoric. The Poet has given us the Description of a Tempest in the First of his Aeneids, intending Virgil. The Philosopher has proved it in his Metaphysics, meaning Aristotle. In every condition, that Man who excels the rest of his Brethren, may appropriate the Title of his Profession. We cannot talk of Eloquence, but Cicero falls naturally into our thoughts, and by consequence the Idea of Cicero, and Orator, are so close and inseparable, we cannot mention the one, but the other will follow.   

METAPHORA.  
Tropes are words transported from their proper significations, and applied to things that they signify but obliquely. So that all Tropes are Metaphors or Translations, according to the Etymology of the Word. And yet by the Figure Antonomasia we give the name of Metaphor to a particular Trope, and according to that definition, a Metaphor is a Trope by which we put a strange and remote word for a proper word, by reason of its resemblance with the thing of which we speak. We call the King the Head of His Kingdom; because as the Head commands the Members of the Natural, so the King commands the Members of the Politic Body. The Holy Scripture, very Elegantly to signify a great Drought, says, The Heavens were Brass. When a House looks pleasantly, we say, and not improperly, It smiles upon us; because it in some measure resembles the agreeableness that appears in the countenance of a person when he smiles.   

ALLEGORIA.  
An Allegory is a continuation of several Metaphors. There is an excellent Example of a perfect Allegory in the Poem of S. Prosper, Part. 2. chap. 14. where he speaks of Divine Grace.  
By this the Soul of Man becomes a Soil,  
Fit to receive the Seed of Faith, and while  
By this Divine Efflux, the drooping Mind  
Is raised above herself, that Plant doth find  
Room to take root, and largely spread, through all  
Those thoughts and actions, which since the Fall,  
Deserve the Name of Good. To this w' are bound,  
That that good Fruit, for which the Saints are crowned,  
Comes to maturity, and is not killed  
By th' Tares of Passions, with which is filled  
Depraved humane Nature: 'Tis this strength  
By which Faith brings forth Fruit, and at the length,  
Maugre the desperate Onsets of fierce lusts,  
Grows up secure to Him in whom she trusts.  
This props up tender Faith from being struck down,  
Till happy Perseverance gives a Crown.  
Great care must be taken in an Allegory, that it ends as it begins; that the Metaphors be continued, and the same things made use of to the last, from whence we borrowed our first Expressions; which Prosper observed exactly in his Metaphor from Corn. When these Allegories are obscure, and the natural sense of the words not presently perceptible, they may be called Enigmas, as in these Verses, where the Poet describes the agitation and ebullition of the blood in the time of a Fever.  
Ce sang chaud & boüillant, cette flâme liquid,  
Cette source de vie à ce coup homicide,  
Et son let agité, ne se peut reposer  
Et consume le champ qu' elle doit arroser.  
Dan ses canaux troubles, sa course vagabond  
Porte un tribute Mortel au Roy du petit Monde.  
This last Verse is more particularly Enigmatical; and on a sudden we do not perceive that he intends by the word King the Heart, as the principal part by which the Blood of the whole Body passes continually: It must first be considered, that Man is called frequently a Microcosm of little World.   

LITOTES.  
Litotes, or Diminutio, is a Trope by which we speak less than we think, as when we say, I cannot commend you, it implies a secret reproach or reprehension for something committed that hinders us. I do not undervalue your Presents, is as much as I accept them.   

HYPERBOLE.  
An Hyperbole is a Figure which represents things greater, lesser, better, etc. than in reality they are. We make use of an Hyperbole, when our ordinary Terms being too weak or too strong, carry no proportion with our Idea; and so fearing to speak too little, we fly out and say too much. As if to express the swiftness of a Horse, I should say he was swifter than the Wind. If the slowness of a Person, I should say, His motion was slower than the motion of a Tortoise. In strictness these Expressions are Lies, but they are innocent Lies, and deceive no body: For no one but understands what we mean, and in the precedent Examples all that is intended is only this, That one ran very fast, and the other moved very slow.   

IRONIA.  
An Irony is a Trope, by which we speak contrary to our thoughts, as when we say, such a one is a very honest man, when we know he is notoriously corrupt. The tone of the Voice wherewith these Ironies are commonly pronounced; and the quality of the person to whom we give the Title, being contrary to what we say, undeceives the Hearer, and gives an exact notion of our thoughts.   

CATACHRESIS.  
Catachresis is the freest Trope of them all: By it we have liberty to borrow the Name of a thing, though quite contrary to what we would signify, because we cannot otherwise express it; as when we say a wooden Ink-horn. Reason demurs at the Expression; but necessity obliges us to make use of it. To ride on horseback upon a stick; Equitare in arundine longa; is not so proper, because riding does naturally presuppose an Horse, and there is great difference betwixt an Horse and a Stick: Yet though these Expressions appear contradictory, they are easily understood.  
These are the most considerable of the Tropes, and to one or other of these, all the rest may be reduced. I do not pretend to show how we are to find them: Besides, that Custom will plentifully furnish us, in the heat of Discourse, no Man's Imagination but will supply him. And as in our passion we never want Arms, our choler directing us to whatever lies in our way; so when our Imagination is stirred, we make use of all the Objects of our Memory to signify our thoughts. There is nothing in Nature, but may some way or other be applied to the thing of which we speak, and supply us with Tropes, where proper Terms are defective.     

CHAP. II.  

I.  
The Use of Tropes, and the Necessity of their being Clear.  
THe richness of a Language consists in its Tropes; and as the ill use of a Man's Wealth, is the destruction of his Estate; so the ill choice of Tropes occasions a multitude of faults in Discourse. 'Tis necessary therefore that Rules be prescribed: And first great care is to be taken, that we use no Tropes, but where we must express ourselves imperfectly without them; and when we are obliged to use them, they must have two qualities; one is, they must be clear, and contribute to the understanding of what we intent, seeing the only use of them is to make us more intelligible; the other is, that they hold proportion with the Idea we design to delineate.  
Three things hinder the perspicuity of a Trope: The first is when it is too remote, and gives no present advantage to the Hearer, to discover what it is that the Speaker intends. As if we should call a scandalous House, the Syrteses of Youth. We should not reach the meaning of the Metaphor, till we we had recollected, that the Syrteses were certain Banks of Sand (upon the African Coast) very dangerous. Whereas if we should say the same House was a Rock for Youth, what we intended to signify would be obvious enough. To avoid this inconvenience, the best way will be to take our Metaphors from sensible things, and such as are frequently represented to our Eyes, whose Images are easily apprehended without scrutiny or trouble. If I would describe a person whose Name I had forgot, I should be ridiculous to do it by dark and obscure signs, that gave no ready occasion to my Hearers to form an Idea of his person: But this that is a fault so dangerous, and so much to be avoided in conversation, is looked upon by some Authors as an Elegance, and highly affected. Some people delight to fetch their Metaphors afar off, and to take them from things unknown, to ostentate their Learning. If they speak of a Kingdom, they will be sure to make use of a Synecdoche, and call it by some part that no body knows: The nearest of their Tropes shall be fetched out of Asia or afric. And he who would understand them, must inform himself of all the Villages, Fountains, and Molehills in those Countries. They never mention a Man, but by the Titles of his Grandfather or Great Grandfather, and all to make a Parade of their great Skill in Antiquity. Whereas the Idea of a Trope ought to have such reference and connexion with the proper word, that one cannot be mentioned, without exciting the Idea of the other: And this fault in the connexion, is the second thing that renders a Trope obscure. This connexion is either natural or artificial. I call that natural, when things signified by their proper, and by their metaphorical Names, have natural resemblance, or dependence one upon the other. As when we say a Man has Arms of Brass, to signify the strength of his Arms, we may call this resemblance betwixt the Trope and the proper Expression, natural. The artificial connexion, is that which arises from Custom. 'Tis the custom to call a rough untractable Man an Arab; 'tis an usual term, and the frequent using it in that sense, makes the Idea of that word Arab awake the Idea of an untractable Man. And therefore an artificial connexion is more obvious, than a natural, because it is established by Custom.  
The too frequent use of Tropes, is the third thing that renders them obscure: The clearest and most perspicuous Metaphors express things but indirectly. The natural Idea of what is represented only by Metaphors, arrives not at the Mind without pain and reflection, and there are few but would be willing to have that labour spared. Yet when we condemn this frequency of Tropes, we intent only those which are extraordinary. Some there are as useful as natural Terms; and those can never perplex our Discourse. When we make use of Metaphorical Expressions, they must be of this latter sort, otherwise our Hearers must be prepared to understand them. A Trope ought to be preceded by something that hinders mistake, and the sequel of the Discourse ought to make it appear, that we are not to stop at the natural Idea represented by the Terms which we employ.  
Unless we be very extravagant, and delight in not being understood, we will never continue a Book, or Discourse, from the beginning to the end in perpetual Allegories. We cannot discover a Man's meaning, but when he gives us at least some natural signs of it, without fallacy or equivocation. How can we tell when he is in jest, and when in earnest, unless we have seen him serious before? How can we distinguish a Mimic from a real Fool, but by observing that the one is a Fool only for a time, and the other as long as he lives? When therefore we see an Author express himself wholly by Metaphors, we may conclude him extravagant; unless there be some secret reason that makes him obscure.   

II.  
Tropes must be proportioned to the Ideas we would give.  
THe Use of Tropes is absolutely necessary, because many times ordinary words are deficient. If I would give the Idea of a very high Rock, the words large, high, and lofty, being given to ordinary Rocks, would afford but a short and imperfect dimension of mine. But if I should say, It threatened the Heavens, the Idea of Heaven (which is the highest thing in Nature) and the Idea of threatening (which belongs properly to people above us) would form in my Mind an Idea of such an extraordinary height, as could not be expressed without an Hyperbole. We say more than we intent, for fear we should say less. But these kind of Expressions are to be used with great caution and decorum: We must have a care that there be always a proportion betwixt the natural Idea of the Trope, and the thing we would explain; otherwise the Hearer may misunderstand, and take one thing for another. If speaking of an indifferent low Valley, I should say, It went as low as Hell; or of a Rock of more than ordinary height, I should say, It touched the Skies; who would not believe I was speaking of a Rock of an immense height, and of a bottom of a prodigious lowness? So that we must have particular regard that our Trope does not give a contrary or extravagant Idea of the thing we intent, lest whilst we pretend to be serious, we make our Auditors laugh, as in this Expression, Morte Catonis Respublica castrata est.  
There are thousands of ways to correct and temper these extravagant Expressions, of which sometimes we are forced to make use. If our reputation be in danger, we excuse ourselves, or prepare the Reader by some previous compliment: For 'tis plain, an ill introduced Trope, is a sign of an irregular Fancy: These bold Expressions are Indications of our Judgement or Passion: When an Object is rare, and we think it so in our Minds, (whether it be for its height or profundity) we presently are sensible in ourselves of Motions tending to Esteem or Contempt, Hatred or Love, which we express by words proportioned to our Judgement and Passion: If therefore the Judgement we make of these Objects be rash and temerarious; if our Sentiments be irrational, our Discourse betrays all, and discovers our weakness. 'Tis not enough therefore, that our Tropes be suited to our Ideas, but they must quadrate among themselves. Men are naturally Lovers of great things; and therefore Authors, who make the satisfaction of their Readers the Rule and Scope of their Art, do affect great Words, high Metaphors, and bold Hyperboles, that, to be examined, would appear ridiculous, and even in those persons who are delighted with them, produce nothing but vain admiration. A Man of Reason cannot endure that Mountains and Molehills should be confounded; that trifles should be made great things, and great things trifles; and that the equality of Style should not leave it in our power, to discriminate betwixt things of none, and things of the most serious importance.   

III.  
Tropes are an Ornament to Discourse.  
TRopes do make a sensible description of the thing we intent: When we call a Great Captain, The Thunderbolt of War, the Idea of Thunder informs presently with what force, with what swiftness, with what noise, the said Captain overcomes: Men do not commonly receive any thing into their Minds, that comes not first to their Senses. To make them conceive well, we make use of Comparisons that are both sensible and pleasant, such Comparisons are easy to the Mind, exempting it from that study and serious application, that is necessary for the discovery of that which falls not under our Senses. For this reason, Metaphors taken from sensible things, are very frequent in Scripture. The Prophets never speak of God, but they describe Him by things subject to our Sense. They give Him Arms, and Hands, and Eyes, and describe Him with Darts, Arrows, and Thunderbolts, by such visible things to intimate to the people his Spiritual and Invisible Power. Sapientia Dei quae cum infantia nostra Parabolis, & Similitudinibus quodammodo ludere non de dignata est, Prophetas voluit humano more de divinis loqui, ut hebetes hominum animi, divina & coelestia, terrestrium similitudine intelligerent. St. August.  
A single Metaphor many times expresses more than a long Discourse. If we should say, Sciences have corners and depths that are very unprofitable, that Metaphor would signify more than could be expressed by many natural words in an easy and comprehensible way. Besides, by help of a Trope, we can vary and protract a Discourse as we see occasion. When we speak long upon one Subject, and have no mind, by too frequent repetitions, to trouble the Hearers, it is the best way to borrow Names from such things as have connexion with the things of which we speak, and to express ourselves by Tropes.    

CHAP. III.  

I.  
The Passions have a peculiar Language, and are expressed only by what we call Figures.  
BEsides the proper and metaphorical Expressions, wherewith Custom and Art supplies us, to signify the Motions both of our Will, and our Thoughts, our Passions also have their peculiar Characters, by which they represent themselves in our Discourse. We see in a Man's Face what passes in his Heart; the fire in his Eyes, the wrinkles in his Brow, the paleness in his looks, are evidences of more than ordinary commotion. The Circumstances of his Discourse, the new and sudden way of expressing himself, (quite contrary to his way when he was cool and in peace) are certain characters of agitation, and imply disturbance in the person who speaks.  
Passion makes us consider things otherwise than we do when we are calm and sedate. It magnifies the Objects, and fixes our thoughts upon them in such manner, that our thoughts are wholly employed about them; the Objects making as strong an impression in us, as the things themselves. Our Passions do many times produce contrary effects, transporting the Mind, and in an instant carrying it through several variations: They force our considerations from one Object, and throw it upon another: They precipitate, interrupt, and divert it: In a word, Passion in a Man's Heart, has the same effect as the Wind in the Sea: Sometimes it forces the Waves upon the shore, sometimes it hurries them back into the deep; on a sudden it mounts them and dashes them against the Sky, and presently tumbles them down to the very Centre of the Earth.  
So our words answer to our thoughts: The Discourse of a Man that is moved, cannot be equal: Sometimes it is diffuse, and describes exactly the thing that is the Object of our Passion: Another time it is short; his expression is abrupt; twenty things said at a time; twenty Interrogations; twenty Exclamations; twenty Digressions together; he is altered by a hundred little particularities, and new ways of signifying his mind, which ways are as different, and distinguishable from his ordinary way, as the Face of a Man is when he is angry, from his Face when he is quiet and serene.  
These ways of Speaking (which are Characters drawn by our Passions in our Discourse) are the famous Figures mentioned by Rhetoricians, and by them defined, Manners of Speaking, different and remote from the ways that are ordinary and natural; that is to say, quite other than what we use, when we speak without passion. There is nothing obscure in this definition, that requires explication, and therefore we will go on to the Use and Necessity of these Figures.   

III.  
Figures are useful and necessary.  
THree Reasons oblige us particularly to the Use of Figures. First, when we describe a person under commotion, if we would do it exactly, we must represent his Discourse with all its proper Figures, turning and altering them, as Men in passion do generally turn and alter their Discourse. A skilful Painter, to express (as much as in him lies) the thoughts and passions of the person whom he draws, gives his Picture such touches and lines, as he observes to be in the Face after extraordinary provocation; which strokes, are great indications of the temper of the Mind.  
Our Passions (as I said before) will show themselves in our Eyes, our Words, our Motions, etc. The expression of Anger and Mirth cannot be the same: These Passions have different Characters, and therefore it is in vain to think to represent them, either by colours or words, unless we do it by the same strokes and figures by which they are distinguished among themselves.  
When a Discourse has life in it, and is animated with the Motions and Characters, and Passions of the person who speaks, it causes a secret pleasure, and is extremely delightful. We cannot read these following Verses, without compassion, and resentment of the same tenderness and love. Virgil represents Nisus in great consternation, upon the danger of his Friend Euryalus, against whom Volcens was advancing with his Sword in his hand to revenge the death of Tagus, who as he thought was slain by Euryalus. Nisus discovers himself to have slain Tagus, and presents himself to receive that mortal stroke that was directed to Euryalus. His words are these, and they are highly emphatical.  
Me me adsum qui feci, in me convertite ferrum  
O Rutuli: mea fraus omnis, nihil iste nec ausus,  
Nec potuit: Coelum hoc, & conscia Sydera testor:  
Tantùm infelicem nimium dilexit amicum.  
I'm, I'm the Man! Turn, turn your Swords on me:  
Mine was the fraud; alas poor harmless he  
Nor durst, nor could, the Heaven and Stars can tell:  
His only guilt was loving's Friend too well.  
The second Reason to prove the Use and Necessity of Figures, is stronger than the first: We cannot affect other people, without we appear to have some impression upon ourselves.  
— Sivis me flere, dolendum est  
Primum ipse tibi—  
Men will never think us concerned, unless they observe in our words the marks and indications of trouble. No man ever conceived Sentiments of pity, for a man that was laughing; to move us to compassion, his Eyes must be fixed upon the ground, and his Cheeks all dabbled with tears: For the same reason, our Discourse ought likewise to bear the marks of the passion we feel, and would communicate to our Auditors. We judge of things, according to the zeal and fervour of the Speaker. The most part of Men, and of things, that have extraordinary esteem, are indebted for it, to those who never mention them but with transports of admiration: Were they mentioned with contempt, the World would think contemptibly of them. Non (says St. Aug.) quod res aliae forent, & ipse homo alius, sed tantummodo affectus alius narrantium.  
Animals know how to defend themselves; to acquire what is useful, and to keep it by force. Those who have fancied them but Machines', have showed very ingeniously, their Bodies to be so organised, that they may perform those actions without assistance from the Soul. We find in ourselves, that our Members (without direction from our Soul) dispose themselves into postures to avoid injury. That the Body frames itself into a proper condition, either to invade or defend. The Hands and the Feet expose themselves for the safety of the Head. The Feet stand firm to support the Body, and put it into a capacity of withstanding the insults of the Enemy. The Arm stiffens, and lists itself up to strike with greater force. The whole Body twists, and contracts, and extends itself, to avoid or invade the Adversary. And all this is done naturally, without reflection or debate.  
'Tis not to be thought, that these Figures are only Rhetorical Figments, invented for ornament of discourse: God has not refused to the Soul, what he has given to the Body. The Body knows how to move, and dispose itself dexterously, for the repelling of Injuries; and the Soul may▪ defend itself as well: Nature has not made her immovable upon any insult: The Figures employed by her in discourse, do the same, as Postures in defence of the Body. If Postures be proper for defence, in corporal invasions; Figures are as necessary, in spiritual attacks. Words are the Arms of the Mind, which she uses, to dissuade or persuade, as occasion serves. I shall show the efficacy and force of these Figures, after I have given a particular definition of each of them. But it being impossible to describe all the Postures which our Passions do dictate to our Bodies, so 'tis as impossible to enumerate all the Figures wherewith our Passions do furnish our Discourse. I shall speak only of the most remarkable, and such as are commonly mentioned by all Masters in this Art.   

II.  
A List of the Figures.  

EXCLAMATION.  
EXclamation, in my judgement, is not improperly to be placed in the Van of the Figures, seeing it is by that, our Passions do first exert, and discover themselves in discourse. Exclamation, is a violent extension of the Voice. When the Soul comes to be disturbed, and agitated with a furious impulse, the animal Spirits passing through all the parts of the Body, and thronging into the Muscles that are about the Organs of the Voice, swell them up in such manner, that the passage being streight'ned, the Voice comes forth with more impetuosity, by reason of the Passion that propells it. Every Ebullition of the Soul is followed by an Exclamation; and therefore the Discourse of a Man in that condition, is full of these Exclamations, Alas! Good God O Heavens! O Earth! etc.   

DOUBT.  
The motion of the Passions is no less changeable and inconstant, than the Waves of the Sea; and they who abandon themselves to the violence of their Passions, are in perpetual disquiet: They will, and they will not: They take an Enterprise in hand, and they quit it immediately: They approve, and disapprove the same thing in an instant: In a word, the inconstancy of their Passion hurries them this way, and that way, and holding them in continual irresolution, plays with them, as the Winds with the Waves of the Sea. The Figure which in our Discourse represents this irresolution is called Doubt, of which we have an excellent Example in Virgil's Description of Dido's anxiety, when Aeneas had given her the slip.  
— What shall I do?  
Shall I now scorned my former Suitors woe?  
Make Overtures, some Lybian Prince to gain?  
Lovers whom I so often did disdain:  
Or shall I venture in the Ilian Fleet,  
And to the Trojans proud Commands submit?  
Since they for my Assistance prove so kind,  
And my late Favours bear so well in mind.  
Grant I were willing, who would give me leave,  
And me neglected in proud Ships receive?  
Ah! hast thou not sufficiently known  
The perjured Race of false Laomedon?  
Shall I alone with churlish Seamen sail,  
Or try if by my power I may prevail?  
And those who scarce I could persuade from Eyre,  
To venture to the Sea again desire?  
No, Wretch, as thou hast well deserved, die;  
And with a Sword conclude thy Misery.   

EPANORTHOSIS.  
A Man in his passion is never satisfied with what he either says or does; the heat of his indignation carries him still farther, in so much that his words are (in his own thoughts) still short of what he would say; he thinks his first expression too weak, and by adding fresh and more strong, endeavours to correct them.  
Nec tibi Diva Parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor  
Perfide: sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens  
Caucasus, Hyrcanaeque admôrunt uber a Tigers.  
The word Epanorthosis is a Greek word, and the same with Correctio or Emendatio in Latin.   

ELLIPSIS.  
A violent passion never permits us to say all that we would: The Tongue is too slow to keep pace with the swiftness of its motions; so that when a Man is cool in Discourse, his Tongue is not so full of words, as when he is animated by passion. When our Passions are interrupted, or diverted another way, the Tongue following them, produceth words of no reference or analogy with what we were saying before. The old Man in Terence was so enraged against his Son, that he could utter only the word Omnium; his passion was too violent to permit him to go thorough with his Exprobration, or to call him as he intended, Omnium hominum pessimus. Ellipsis is the same thing with Omissio, or Defectus.   

APOSIOPESIS.  
Aposiopesis is a kind of an Ellipsis or Omission; and it is form when on a sudden we change our passion, or lay it quite aside, cutting off our Discourse in such manner, that the Hearer cannot easily divine what it is we intent. This Figure is used most commonly upon occasion of threatening, as If I, etc. But, etc.  Quos ego. Sed motos praestat componere fluctus.  

PARALIPSIS.  
This Figure is a pretended desire in us to omit what we say, and it is natural enough. When a Man is enraged, Arguments present themselves in crowds to his Mind: He would willingly make use of them all, but fears they may be troublesome: Besides, the activity of his agitation hinders him from enlarging upon all of them, so he is forced to deliver them in a huddle, and pretend that he has not so much time as they require to be dilated on. I will not speak (Gentlemen) of the Injury that my Enemy has done me: I am willing to forget the wrong that I have received from him: I shut mine Eyes at all his contrivances against me.   

REPETITION.  
Repetition is a Figure very ordinary among those who speak in a heat, or are impatient to make us understand what they mean. When we are in Combat with our Enemy, we think it not enough to give him one wound and no more; we multiply our blows, for fear one should not do the business: So in Speaking, if we think our first words not well understood, we repeat them, or explain them another way. Passion having got the Mastery of us, possesses itself of our Minds, and imprints strongly in us those things which have caused it; of which the Mind being very full, no wonder if we speak with emotion. Repetition is made two ways; when we repeat the same words, or when we repeat the same thing in different words. Cicero gives us an Example of the former, in his first Oration against Catiline: Nihil agis, nihil nihil moliris, quod ego non modo, non audiam, sed etiam vide am planéque sentiam. And Prosper has another of the second, where in different manners he expresses this single Truth, That of ourselves we can do nothing well, but only by the assistance of Divine Grace. In repeating the same words, there are ways of disposing them with such art, that answering one another, they make an excellent Cadence, and are very pleasing to the Ear. These are called harmonious Repetitions, of which I shall speak farther in my following Book.   

PLEONASMUS.  
A Pleonasm is when we use more words than are necessary, as when I say, I heard such a thing with my Ears. The word is Greek, and signifies the same with Redundantia in Latin.   

SYNONYMIA.  
A Synonomie is when the same thing is expressed by several words that have but one and the same signification: And this happens, when the Mouth being too narrow for the Heart, we make use of all the words we can remember to express our thoughts, as Abiit, Evasit, Erupit; He went away, He escaped, He fled.   

HYPOTYPOSIS.  
The Objects of our Passions are almost always present to our Minds: We fancy we see and hear those continually, who have made any strong impression upon our Minds.  Illum absens absentem auditque videtque. 
For which reason, all Descriptions of these Objects are lively and exact. They are called Hypotyposes because they figure the things, and form an Image of them, that represents the things themselves. The word is a Greek word, and signifies to represent or delineate.   

DISTRIBUTION.  
Distribution is a kind of Hypotyposis, used when we enumerate the parts of the Object of our Passion. David supplies us with an Example, when in the heat of his indignation against Sinners, he gives a description of their Iniquity: Their throat is an open sepulchre, they flatter with their tongues; the poison of Asps is under their lips; their mouth is full of cursing and lies; and their feet are swift to shed blood.   

ANTITHESIS.  
Antitheses, Comparisons, and Similitudes, which are Figures proper to represent things with clearness, are the effects of that strong impression made upon us by the Passion that animates us, of which by consequence it is an easy matter to discourse clearly and exactly, having it as it were present before the Eyes of our Mind. Contraria juxta se posita, magis elucescunt. And white placed by black is the more illustrious. We have an Example of an Antithesis in Prosper, where speaking of those who act without the impulsion of the Holy Spirit, he says, 
Leur ame en cet état recule en s'avancant,  
En voulant monter tomb, et perd en amassant:  
Comme elle suit l'attrait d'une lu eur trompeuse,  
Sa lumiere l'offusque, et la rend tenebreuse.    

SIMILITUDE.  
For a Similitude, I cannot give a better Pattern than out of the Paraphrase upon the First of King David's Psalms, where speaking of the Happiness of the Just Man, it says, 
He shall be like a Tree by th' Water's side,  
Whose root receives the tribute tide;  
The tender Plant does into vigour grow,  
Is always green, has always fruit,  
Extends into the streams its root,  
And spreads in top as that does spread below.  
So shall the Righteous flourish, and that Hand  
That planted him at first shall make him stand:  
No storm or drought against him shall prevail.  
But bending to the streams his root,  
He shall be green, he shall have fruit,  
Which till they cease to flow shall never fail.    

COMPARISON.  
The difference is not great betwixt a Similitude and a Comparison, unless it be in this, that a Comparison is more sprightly and emphatical, as appears in this Comparison, wherein David shows, that he preferred the Law of God before all things, Ps. 19  
The finest Gold near them looks wan and pale,  
And Honey from the Comb does of its wont sweetness fail.  
But there are two things to be observed in Comparisons: The first is, We are not to require an exact analogy and proportion betwixt all the parts of a Comparison, and the Subject of which we speak. Certain things are inserted only to render the Comparisons more lively, as in that which Virgil makes of the young Ligurian vanquished by Camillus, with a Pigeon in the Pounces of an Hawk: After he had said what he thought fit of the principal, to which the Comparison related, he adds, Tum Cruor, & Vulsae labuntur ab aethere plumae.  
Which belongs not to the Comparison, but is brought in only to make a more sensible description of a Pigeon torn in pieces by a Hawk. The second thing to be observed in favour of that excellent Poet, I have thought good to insert, to defend him from the Criticisms of those who condemn his Comparisons as too mean and low. But it is with much Art that this Great Man, in his Aeneids, makes his Comparisons of mean things: He does it to ease and relax the Mind of the Reader, whom the Grandeur and Dignity of his Matter had held in too strong an intention; and to discern that this was his design, we need no more than to consider the Comparisons in his Georgics, which are lofty and strong.   

SUSPENSION.  
When we begin our Discourse in such manner, that the Hearer knows not what we mean, and the expectation of some great thing makes him attentive, that Figure is called Suspensio. Breboeuf has an Example of it in his Solitary Entertainments, where speaking of God he says: 
Les ombres de la nuit, a la clartè de jour;  
Les transports de la rage aux douceurs de l'amour;  
A l'etroite amity, lafoy discord ou l'envie;  
Le plus bruiant orage, au calm le plus doux;  
La douleur aux plaisers; le trepas à la vie;  
Sont bein moins opposez que le pecheur a Vous.  
Darkness to Light, cold Winter's Frost to Fire,  
Transports of Rage to Sweetnesses of Love,  
Loud roaring Tempests to the smoothest Calm,  
Torments to Pleasure, Death itself to Life;  
Are not so opposite, as Sin to Thee.    

PROSOPOPEIA.  
When a Passion is violent, it renders them mad in some measure that are possessed with it. In that case, we entertain ourselves with Rocks, and with dead Men, as if they were living, and make them speak as if they had Souls. Good God, Protector of Innocency, permit that the Order of Nature may be interrupted for a moment, and that this dead Carcase loosening its Tongue, may resume the use of its Voice! Me thinks God Almighty grants this Miracle to my Prayers: Do you not hear the Carcase (Gentlemen) publishing my Innocence, and declaring the Authors of its Death? If it be just resentment (says the Carcase) against the Author of my death, that animates you, turn your indignation against this Calumniator, who triumphs in an absolute security, having loaden this Innocent with the burden of his Crime.   

SENTENCE.  
Sentences are but reflections made upon a thing that surprises, and deserves to be considered. They consist commonly in few energetical words, that comprehend great sense, as in this: There is no disguise that can long conceal Love where it is, or dissemble it where it is not. The reflection which Lucan makes upon the Error of the ancient Gauls, who believed the Transmigration of the Soul, will serve for an Example of a more prolix Sentence.  
— But those wild People happy are  
In this their Error, whom Fear greatest far  
Of all Fears injures not, the Fear of Death;  
Thence are they prone to War; nor loss of Breath  
Esteem; nor spare a Life that comes again.   

EPIPHONEMA.  
Epiphonema is an Exclamation containing some Sentence, or great Sense, placed at the end of a discourse: It is the last touch or stroke wherewith we would affect our Auditors, and a pressing and lively reflection upon the Subject whereof we speak: This Hemistich of Virgil is an Epiphonema: — Tantaene animis Coelestibus irae?  
Lucan finishes by a kind of Epiphonema the Complaint of the Inhabitants of Rimini against the Situation of their City, which was exposed to the first Commotions in all the Wars, both Civil and Foreign.  
— Quoties Romam fortuna lacessit,  
Hâc iter est bellis—   

INTERROGATION.  
Interrogation is very much used in Discourse, our Passion produces it frequently towards them we would persuade, and makes us address ourselves wholly to them; so that this Figure is very useful to fix the attention of our Auditors to what we would have them understand. The Prophet David gives us a lively instance, when in the Tenth Psalm he seems to expostulate with God Almighty, and question him for abandoning the Innocent in the time of their Trouble.  
My God, why dost thou thus thyself withdraw,  
And make as if thou didst not see  
Those miseries, which are better known to thee,  
Than him who bears their sharpest law?  
Why dost thou thus thy face in trouble hide?  
'Twere Hell, should I be ever so denied.   

APOSTROPHE.  
An Apostrophe is when a Man in extraordinary commotion, turns himself on all sides, and addresses to the Heavens, the Earth, the Rocks, the Forests, things sensible and insensible: He makes no difference in his fury, but searches every where for succour, quarrels with every thing, like a Child beating the ground upon which he has fallen: So David, in the First Chapter of the Second Book of Samuel, lamenting the Death of Saul and Jonathan, curses the Mountains of Gilboa where that Tragedy was acted: Ye Mountains of Gilboa let there be no Dew, neither let there be Rain upon you, nor Field Offerings, etc.   

PROLEPSIS & HYPOBOLE.  
Prolepsis is a Figure by which we prevent what might be objected by the Adversary; and Hypobole is the manner of answering those Objections which we have prevented. We may find an Example of these two Figures in S. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians, chap. 15. where speaking of the Resurrection to come, he answers a Question that might be objected: But some will say, how are the dead raised up? and with what body do they come? Thou Fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die: And when thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall grow up, but only the grain perhaps of wheat, perhaps of some other thing.   

COMMUNICATION.  
Communication is, when deliberating with our Auditors, we desire their Judgements: As, What would you do (Gentlemen) in the like case? Would you take other Measures than, etc. 'Tis a kind of Communication that St. Paul uses in the Sixth Chapter to the Romans, where having reckoned up the advantages of Grace, and the miseries that follow Sin, he demands of the Romans, What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed, for the end of those things is death?   

CONFESSION.  
Confession is an acknowledgement of our faults, and such an acknowledgement as engages the person to whom it is addressed to pardon the fault, the hopes of which pardon gives us the confidence to confess. And this is a Figure very frequent in the Psalms of David, and particularly in the Twenty fifth Psalm.  
Let not my sins to thy remembrance come,  
Nor all those spots which stained my youth;  
But wash them out, and mindful of thy truth,  
Receive the Prodigal returning home,  
And let thy Mercy for thy ancient Love make room.   

EPITROPE or CONSENT.  
Sometimes we grant a thing freely, that might be denied, to obtain another, that we desire. This Figure is frequently malicious, and carries a sting in the tail. Cic. pro Flacco. Tribuo Graecis Literas, do multarum artium disciplinam, ingeniorum acumen, dicendi copiam; denique etiam si qua sibi alia sumunt, non repugno; testimoniorum religionem & fidem nunquam ratio ista coluit. On the contrary, sometimes it has a healing close, as, Sit sacrilegus, sit fur, sit flagitiorum omnium vitiorumque princeps; at est bonus Imperator.  
By this Figure it is, that we invite our Enemy sometimes to do all the mischief he can▪ in order to give him a sense and horror of his Cruelty. It is common likewise in the Complaints betwixt Friends, as when Aristeus, in Virgil, complains to his Mother: 
Quin age, & ipsa manu felices erue sylvas,  
Fer stabulis inimicum ignem, atque intersice messes,  
Ure sata, & validam in vites molire bipennem:  
Tanta meae si te coeperunt toedia laudis.  
Go and my fertile Groves thyself annoy,  
And burn my Stalls, with Fire my Corn destroy,  
Hue down and spoil my Vineyards; if to thee  
So grievous are those Honours granted me.    

PERIPHRASIS.  
Periphrasis is a Circumlocution, used to avoid certain words whose Ideas are unpleasing; and to prevent the speaking of some things that would produce ill Effects. Cicero being forced to confess that Clodius was slain by Milo, did it with address: The Servants of Milo (says he) being hindered from succouring their Master (whom Clodius was reported to have killed) and believing it to be true, they did in his absence, without his knowledge or consent, what every body would have expected from his Servants upon the like occasion. In which he avoids the words kill and put to death, as words ingrateful (if not odious) to the Ear.    

IV.  
The Number of Figures is infinite, each Figure being to be made an hundred different ways.  
I Have not set down in this List the Hyperboles, the Grand Metaphors, and several other Tropes, because I have spoken of them elsewhere. They are nevertheless true Figures, and though the scarcity of Language obliges us many times to make use of these Tropical Expressions, even when we are quiet and at ease; yet they are more commonly used when we are under a Transport. 'Tis our Passion that makes Objects appear to us extraordinary, and by consequence is the Cause that we have not common Terms to represent them either so big, or so little as they appear. Besides that I never pretended to speak of all the Figures, it would require a large Volume to describe the Characters of our Passions in Discourse, as well as those which the same Passions do describe in our Faces. Threats, Complaints, Reproaches, Entreaties, have their Figures in all Languages. There is no better Book than a Man's own Heart, and it would be folly to search in other people's Works, for that wherewith our own Breast may supply us. If we would know the Figures of Choler, we need no more than watch what we naturally say, when we are transported with that Passion.  
In a word, it is not to be imagined, that all Figures are to be framed according to the Examples which I have used; or that I intended them as Universal Models for all the Figures that I have mentioned. Apostrophes, Interrogations, Antitheses, may be made an hundred several ways. It is not Art that regulates them; it is not Study that shows them: They are the Natural Effects of Passion, as I have said before, and shall demonstrate more at large in the following Chapter.    

CHAP. IU.  

I.  
Figures are the Arms of the Soul. A Comparison betwixt a Soldier Fight, and an Orator Speaking.  
WE have shown the Necessity and Advantage of Figures by three Reasons, of which the two first have been sufficiently explained. The third (that Figures are the Arms of the Soul) is still to be cleared; wherefore for better illustration, and to give it the deeper Impression upon our Mind, I will in this place describe a Soldier fight, his Sword in his hand; and an Orator speaking in a Cause, that he has undertaken to defend. I shall make a Parallel of these two sorts of Combats, and consider a Soldier in three Conditions: The first, when he fights with equal force, and his Enemy has no advantage over him. The second, when he is environed with danger. And the third, when being obliged to yield to the power of his Enemy, he has no recourse but to the Clemency of the Victor. I shall carefully observe the Postures which he uses in all these three Conditions, and show, that in Discourse there are Figures corresponding to all these Postures, with which they have a natural resemblance.  
In the first Condition, the Soldiers intention is applied to the finding out ways of obtaining the Victory; sometimes he is upon the offensive, sometimes upon the defensive part; sometimes he advances, sometimes he retreats; he pretends to give ground, and returns with greater impetuosity; he redoubles his blows, he threatens and contemns the Efforts of his Adversary. Sometimes he puts himself forward, and fights with more ardour and vehemence. He considers the Designs of his Enemy, and possesses himself of the advantageous ground. In a word, he is in perpetual motion, and always disposed either for defence or invasion.  
When the Mind is inflamed, and disposed to combat by Words, the Passions with which it is provoked, with no less heat excite it to find out Reasons and Arguments to evince the Truths which it asserts. In the heat and impatience that every man has to defend himself, and make good what he affirms, the same things are many times repeated, and delivered in different manners: Sometimes with Descriptions, Hypotyposes, Comparisons, Similitudes. Sometimes we prevent what the Adversary would say, and sometimes we answer it. Sometimes as a token of confidence we grant all that is desired, and pretend not to make use of all the Reasons that the Justice of our Cause would suggest.  
A Soldier keeps his Enemy in breath; the strokes that he makes at him continually, the assaults that he makes at him on all sides, the different ways of his attacks and retreats, keeps him constantly waking. An Orator entertains the Attention of his Auditors; when their thoughts are straggling, he reduces them by Apostrophes; and by Interrogations obliges them to whom they are directed to give him an answer. He awakens them, and recollects them by frequent Exclamations, Reiterations, etc.  
Having considered this Representation of a Soldier combating with success; let us next represent to your Eyes the Image of another Soldier, environed with danger, without any hopes of relief. Sadness forces Tears from his Eyes, and Sighs from his Breast. Indignation exasperates him against the Enemy, and Fear pulls him presently back. He stands immovable, and unresolved, whilst in the mean time his desire to escape the impending danger, presses and inflames him. After this he tries all sorts of ways; he excites, he animates himself: His Passion renders him dexterous and cunning, it furnishes him with Arms, and he makes use of every thing he can reach for his defence. Can we stifle the Sentiments of displeasure that we feel, and not testify them by Exclamations, by Complaints, by Reproaches, when we perceive the Truth (which we love so well) obstructed, or obscured? In these occasions, our great ardour and impatience to secure it against the Clouds wherewith it is obfuscated, makes us accumulate Arguments, and heap proof upon proof. Sometimes we explain them; sometimes having proposed them only, we leave them, to answer the Objections of the Adversary. Sometimes we are silent, in great irresolution about the choice of our proofs. Sometimes we urge a thing, and immediately find fault with it, as a thing of no cogency or conviction. When our proofs fail, or are insufficient, Nature herself must Apostrophize; we make the Stones speak, the Dead to come forth of their Graves; the Heaven and Earth are invoked to fortify by their testimony the Truth, for the establishment of which we speak with so much heat.   

II.  
A Continuation of the Parallel betwixt a Soldier Fight, and an Orator Pleading in defence of his Cause.  
TO complete the Parallel that I have begun, betwixt a Soldier and an Orator, I consider the Soldier in the third Condition to which he is reduced, when not being able longer to contend, he is obliged to yield to his Enemy. In that case, he throws away his Arms as unuseful; there is nothing of threatening or fury in his countenance. His chief Weapon is his Tears; he humbles himself more than his Enemy would humble him; he prostrates himself at his Feet, and embraces his Knees: Man is made, to obey those upon whom he depends, or by whom he is maintained; and to command his Inferiors that acknowledge his Jurisdiction: He does both the one and the other with pleasure. Two persons are bound very strictly together, when the one has need of relief and desires it, and the other has power to relieve and applies it. God having made Mankind to live together, has form them with these Natural Inclinations: A person in Affliction betakes himself naturally to all postures of Humility, that may make him appear inferior to the person of whom he begs; and we cannot, without resisting the Sentiments of Nature, refuse to persons so humbled, the Succours that they implore: We supply them with a secret delight, which is as it were our recompense and reward (in some measure) for the Comforts we bestow. It is by this way of Compensation, that a Trade and Commerce is maintained betwixt the poor and the rich, betwixt the miserable and the happy.  
In Discourse there are Figures which answer to these Postures of Affliction and Humility, to which the Orators have frequent recourse. Men being free, it is at their own choice whether they will suffer themselves to be persuaded; they can turn away their face, and not see the Truth that is proposed to them; or they can dissemble that they know it. So an Orator is many times in this third Condition, wherein we consider our Soldier. When he finds he must yield, and his desire to preserve himself obliges him to be humble, that he may obtain that by Supplication, that he cannot hope to compass by force of Argument, his Eloquence is employed to possess his Adverversary of the unfortunate Condition to which he is reduced; Prayers are commonly full of descriptions of his Misery who makes them. Job expostulating with God, tells Him, That he is but a leaf, with which the winds do sport themselves; and as a dry stubble. Contra folium quod vento rapitur, ostendis potentiam tuam, & stipulam siccam persequeris. And David, Psal. 6.  
I weary out the day with sighs,  
And when that's done the night with tears;  
So vast a deep comes rolling from my eyes,  
That down its tide my bed it almost bears;  
Yet though it wash my couch, it cannot drown my fears.  
In a word, as there are Figures to threaten, to reproach, and to terrify; there are Figures also to pray, to mitigate, and flatter.   

III.  
Figures illustrate obscure Truths, and render the Mind attentive.  
WE cannot doubt of a known Truth: We may question it with our Mouth, but our Heart must be thoroughly convinced. To triumph therefore upon the obstinacy or ignorance of those who oppose it, it is sufficient to expose the light of it to their Eyes, and to bring it so near, that the strength of its impression may awaken them, and oblige them to be attentive. Figures do extremely contribute to the removing these two first obstacles, that hinder a Truth from being known, and help its obscurity, and the defect of our attention. They are useful to illustrate and explain it; they force the Hearer to an attention; they awaken him, and strike him so lively, that they do not suffer him to sleep, nor keep the Eyes of his Mind shut up to the Truths that are proposed.  
My Design being in my List of Figures, to insert only those which the Rhetoricians do place frequently in that number, I will not speak of Syllogisms, of Enthimems, of Dilemmas, and other kind of Arguments that are used in Logic; and yet it is manifest they are real Figures, being extraordinary ways of reasoning never used but in passion, or ardent desire to persuade or dissuade those to whom we speak. These Reasonings or Figures are wonderfully effectual in this, That joining a clear and incontestable Proposition, with another that is more doubtful and contestable, the clearness of the one dissipates the obscurity of the other, and the two Propositions being strictly connexed, if the reasoning be good, we cannot grant the one to be true, but we must confess the other to be so likewise.  
A solid Argument suppresses and disarms the most obstinate Adversary: Other Figures are not indeed of that force and conviction, but yet they are not unprofitable. Repetitions and Synonyma do illustrate a Truth. If our first Expression be too weak, the second makes us intelligible. The Synonyma when added, are so many new strokes of a Pencil, that make those Lines visible, which before were incomplete.  
When our impatience to be understood, gives us just occasion to fear we have not sufficiently explained ourselves, we dilate upon things the more, and are more copious in our Expression. If our Hearers have not been attentive, we repeat a second time what we have said before. What darkness can obfuscate the verity of a thing that an Eloquent Person explains? of which, he makes Descriptions, and Enumerations, (that lead us (if I may so say) through all the corners and recesses of an Affair) and such Hypotyposes, and Illustrations, as carry us through all difficulties, and by a pleasant Enchantment makes us believe we behold the things themselves? An Antithesis is no idle ornament; opposition of contrary things, contributes exceedingly to the clearing of a Truth. Shadows add much to the beauty of Colours.  
Our Minds are not equally open to all kind of Truths. We comprehend much more easily things that are obvious every day, and in common use among Men; than those which are rare, and mentioned but seldom. For which Reason, Comparisons and Similitudes, drawn ordinarily from sensible things, give us a more easy penetration into the most abstracted and abstruse Truths. There is nothing so subtle and sublime, but may be made intelligible to the weakest Understanding, if among the things which they know, or are capable of knowing, we can find out ingeniously such as have resemblance or similitude with those which we would explain to them. We have an excellent Example of this Address, in a Discourse that Monsieur Paschal made to a young Nobleman, to give him a true Notion of his Condition. His Parabole is thus:  
A certain Person is cast by Tempest into an unknown Island, whose Inhabitants were in great pain to find out their King who was lost. The Person having much resemblance, both in Body and Feature with the King, is taken for him, and recognised in that quality by the People. At first he was surprised, and knew not how he was to steer; but upon second thoughts he resolved to follow his Fortune, received all the respects that they paid him, and suffered himself to be treated as their King.  
But being unable to forget his natural condition, it stuck in his Mind at the same time that he received their Formalities, that he was not the King for whom they sought, and that the Kingdom was not his. So that he had a double care upon him; one, by which he acted as King; the other, by which he remembered his real condition, and was assured, that it was only Chance which had placed him where he was: This last thought he concealed to himself, the other he discovered: By the first, he treated with the People; by the last, he treated with himself.  
By this Example Monsieur Paschal signified to the young Lord, That it was the Fortune of his Birth which had made him Great; that it was only the Fancy of the People, that had annexed to the Quality of a Duke, an Idea of Grandeur; and that in effect he is no greater than other People. Instructing him in that manner what Sentiments he ought to have of his condition, and making him understand Truths, which would have been above the Capacity of his Age, had he not (as I may say) brought them down to the Intellect of him whom he desired to instruct.  
Were Men Lovers of Truth, to propose it to them in a lively and sensible way, would be sufficient to persuade them: But they hate it, because it accommodates but seldom with their Interests, and is seldom made out, but to the discovery of their Crimes: In so much that they are afraid of its lustre, and shut their Eyes that they may not behold it. They stifle the natural love that Men have for it, and harden themselves against the salutiferous strokes that she strikes upon the Conscience: They shut all the Ports of their Senses, that she may not enter into their Minds, where she is received with so much indifference, that she is forgot as soon as she is received.  
Eloquence therefore would have but little authority over our Hearts, and would indeed find strong resistance, did she not attack them with other Arms besides Truth. The Passions are the Springs of the Soul: It is they which cause it to act: It is either Love, or Hatred, or Fear, or Hope, which counsels and determins us. We pursue what we love, we avoid what we hate. He that holds the Spring of a Machine, is not so much Master of all the Effects of the Machine, as he is of a Person, whose Inclination he knows, and is able to inspire with Hatred, or Love, according as either is necessary to make him advance, or to remove him from an Object.  
But the Passions are excited by the presence of their Object: Present Good affects us with Love, and with Joy; When we do not actually, but are in possibility of possessing that Good, it inflames the Soul with desires, whose Flames are continued by Hope.  
Present Evil is the Cause of Hatred or Sadness: The Soul is tormented with Fears and with Terrors, which turn to Despair, when we find we have no means left to avoid them: To kindle therefore these Passions in the Heart of a Man, we must present the Objects before him; and to this purpose, Figures do marvellously conduce.  
We have seen how Figures do imprint strongly; how they illustrate, and how they explain: We must use them in the same manner to discover the Object of the Passion which we have a mind to inspire, and to make a lively Picture that expresses all the Features and Lineaments of the said Object. If we declaim against a Malefactor, who deserves the hatred of the Judges, we are not to be sparing of words, nor afraid of Repetitions, Synonyma, that strongly imprint upon the Mind the Image of his Crimes. An Antithesis will be convenient, and make them conceive the enormity of his Life, by opposing the Innocence of those Persons whom he has wronged: We may compare him to the Malefactors of former Ages, and declare his Cruelty to be greater than the Cruelty of the Tigers and Lions. It is in the Description of Cruelty, and other ill qualities, that Eloquence triumphs: It is particularly the Hypotyposes, or lively Descriptions, which produce the Effect expected from our Discourse, and raise in the Mind Floods of Passion, of which we make use, to incline the Judges as we have a mind to lead them. Frequent Exclamations do testify our horror at the representation of his abominable Crimes; and makes the Standers-by feel the same Sentiments of grief and aversion. By Apostrophes and Prosopopeia's we order it so, that Nature herself seems to demand with us the Condemnation of the Criminal.   

IV.  
Reflections upon the good use of Figures.  
Figure's, as we have seen, being the Characters of our Passions, when those Passions are irregular, Figures serve only to describe those Irregularities. They are Instruments used to shake and agitate the Minds of those to whom we speak: If these Instruments be managed by an unjust Passion, Figures in that Man's Mouth, are like a Sword in the Hand of a Mad Man. It is not lawful by false accusation to blacken every Man against whom we speak; nor to show our Eloquence, is it necessary to employ against him, the same Figures we would use to dispose a Judge to the Condemnation of a wicked and abominable person. Orators with whom this fault is familiar, do seldom deceive twice; their Exclamations are quickly understood, and it happens to them, as to those who have used to counterfeit themselves sick; when they are sick indeed, no body believes them:  Quaere Peregrinum, vicinia Rauca reclamat. 
This fault in some persons is a sign of cunning, in others 'tis a sign of levity and extravagance. When we delight in combating the Truth; when we desire not to satisfy our Hearers, but choose rather to trouble their Minds with the Clouds of some unjust Passion, that may intercept the sight of the Truth; the Figures employed in that Case may be called Figures of Craft. But Orators are not always to be accused of this cunning; sometimes they do not consider the impressions which their Figures may make; their design not being so much to persuade, as to show their Eloquence; and to do that, they will put themselves into a heat, and make use of the strongest Figures in Rhetoric, when perhaps they have no Enemy to combat: Like a Mad Man, who draws his Sword upon a Phantasm that his own troubled Imagination has represented in the Air. These are Orators that fall many times into Raptures and Enthusiasms, which take away the use of their Reason, and make them see things in a quite contrary manner to what in reality they are.  Et solemn geminum, & duplices se ostendere Thebas. 
This Fault is the Character of an Infant, that is angry without a cause; yet many Learned and Eminent Writers are guilty of it, as believing they could not pass for Eloquent without these kind of Figures. For this reason, they will talk loud upon all occasions, deprave their own Judgements, and look upon every thing quite otherwise than it is; whereas they should rather reflect soberly upon whatever is represented, and speak only by Sentences. But that which is most ridiculous is, That these ill Orators endeavour only to please and tickle their Auditory, not concerning themselves in the least to overcome or convince their Adversary by the force of their words. Like a distracted person, never regarding how he struck, or defended himself with advantage against his Enemy, so he drew the Eyes of the Spectators upon him, and got the reputation of fight handsomely, and with a good grace.  
Fures ait Pedio: Pedius, quid? Crimina rasis  
Librat in Antithetis, doctas posuisse Figuras  
Laudatur—  
They affect to measure their words, and to give them a just Cadence that may flatter the Ear: They proportion all their Expressions, and in a word, they fill up their Discourses with Figures, but such Figures as, in respect of strong and persuasive Figures, are like the Postures in a Dance, in respect of the Postures of a Combat.  
The Study and Art that appear in a count and polite Discourse, are not the Character of a Mind lively touched with the things of which he speaks; but rather of a Man unconcerned, and merry. So we call these Figures of Measure, whose Cadence is agreeable to the Ear, Theatrical Figures, Theatrales Figurae. They are Arms only for show, not of a temper to fight with. Figures proper to persuade are not to be sought for: It is the heat wherewith we are animated for the defence of the Truth that produces them, and continues them in our Discourse; so that indeed Eloquence is nothing but the Effect of our Zeal. St. Augustin tells us the same, speaking of the Eloquence of the Style of St. Paul: Quid sic indignatur Apostolus in Epistolis suis, sic corripit, sic exprobrat, sic increpat, sic minatur? Quid est quod animi sui affectum tam crebra & tam aspera vocis mutatione testetur? Nullus dixerit, more Sophistarum pueriliter & consulto figurasse Orationem suam; tamen multis figuris distincta est. Quapropter sicut Apostolum praecepta Eloquentiae non secutum esse dicemus; ita, quod ejus sapientiam secuta sit Eloquentia, non denegamus.  
But it is not only upon great occasions that Figures are to be used: The Passions have several degrees: All provocations are not equally alike; nor have all Figures the same efficacy and force. There are Antitheses for great, and other Figures for lesser Commotions. So that we ought not to condemn all sorts of Figures in Discourse, upon a matter that affords not just and reasonable occasion of emotion. The impatience Men have to express themselves well, and to make the things they would insinuate to be conceived, has its Figures as well as our other Passions. In the mildest and most temperate conversation, though no resistance be found in the Mind of the persons with whom we discourse, nothing hinders but that for the better explication we may repeat sometimes the same Words, and make use of different Expressions, to say the same thing. It is permitted to make exact Descriptions, to search for Comparisons and Images of what we say, among natural and sensible things. We may demand the Judgement of our Auditors, and interrogate them, to fix and retain their Minds in more serious attention, and make our reflections upon what they have said. Thus has Conversation its Figures, as well as Speeches, and Declamations.  
The Style of an Orator, who makes ill use of his Figures, is termed a cold Style, because whatever effort he makes to animate his Auditors, they harken but coldly, and that coldness is so much the greater, because the Hearers are not agitated by any of those Emotions which he desired to excite.     

THE THIRD PART OF THE ART OF SPEAKING.  

CHAP. I.  

I.  
Of Sounds, and Letters, of which Words are composed.  
THe Rules which we have hitherto given, in relation to the Art of Speaking, regard only the manner of expressing our Thoughts, which are the Soul of Discourse. Letters that compose the Words, by their resemblance, are the Body of Discourse, as we have said before. We must take pains now to form this Body, that is to say, to range the Words in such sort, that the pronunciation of them may be easy and agreeable at the same time. To treat of this matter with entire exactness, we ought seriously to consider the particular Movements of the Organs of the Voice, to determine the formation of every Sound that is made by every Letter. But, besides that this exactness would be troublesome, every Man may apprehend these things without the assistance of a Master, by observing with little attention what is performed by the Organs of which we make use when we speak. I shall therefore explain myself upon these things only in a general manner.  
We know already how the Voice is formed. The Air which comes forth of the Lungs, excites a Sound passing with constraint through the Larynx, or the opening of the Pipe of the Aspera Arteria, which reaches to the Throat. This opening is greater or lesser by means of Muscles that environ it, according as there is occasion for the raising or letting fall of the Voice. This Sound is received out of the Throat into the Mouth; where it is modified in different manners, by the different dispositions of the place which receives it, and by the Motion of the Tongue which beats it against several parts of the Mouth. Every Sound has been marked by a Letter: Letters compose Words; in such sort, that it is possible to make an Engine speak, if having observed the particular disposition of the Organs of the Voice (which is necessary for the formation of each Letter) we should make as many Pipes as there are Letters, and give them the same dispositions. It is possible likewise to make a dumb Man speak, by representing to his Eyes the dispositions and postures which the Organs of the Voice do assume for the sounding of each Letter, of which at the same time they are to show them a Character, and reiterate the pronunciation, till he observes the Motions of the Tongue, the Opening of the Mouth, how the Sound is cut by the Teeth, how the Lips beat one against the other, and imitate them. Commonly people are dumb only because they cannot hear, and therefore they cannot learn to pronounce the Sound of a Letter otherwise than by this artifice, which teaches them that by the Eye, of which they are not capable by the Ear. Monsieur de Monconies reports, that in his Travels in England, there was an Excellent Mathematician at Oxford, who made a dumb Man read in his presence; and that that dumb Man was the second which he had taught to speak by that Method. 'Tis true, he only called over the Letters by their Names, but knew not how to make any conjunction of their Sounds.  
The Letters are distinguished into Vowels and Consonants: Some have observed, that Vowels are made only by moving the root of the Tongue; others will have their Sound formed by the different opening of the Mouth. The Vowels are five, A, E, I, O, U. In pronouncing them, we must stop some time to make them sound, otherwise they will not be easily understood; according to the measure or quantity of time, they are said to be long or short, or too long or too short, and receive different Names. It depends upon him that speaks to stop a longer or shorter time upon the Vowels, and so to make what difference betwixt them he pleases, and therefore it is, that their Number is not the same in all Languages. The Hebrews have thirteen Vowels; the Greeks seven; the French pronounce their Vowels in equal time, so that they are not subject to that difference which the different measures of time may produce among others; but they distinguish them another way. When the Mouth is opened more than ordinarily, the Sound is stronger, and more clear; when the Mouth is not opened so much, the Sound is weaker, and less clear. These different degrees of force, cause the difference betwixt an E Masculine and an E Feminine; betwixt an I and an U. When we join the Sounds of two Vowels, and a third Sound is produced, that is it which we call a Dipthong, which is as much as a Letter with two Sounds.  
Consonants cannot be pronounced, but by sounding a Vowel, and from thence they are called Consonants. These Letters are form by the Motion of the Tongue beating the Voice against the Throat, and from thence against the Palat. As the Tongue contracting itself, stops the Air that forms the Voice; or as it relaxes and and suffers it to pass, striking upon the Teeth; and the Lips beating one upon another, it gives the Sounds of different Consonants. From whence, among the Hebrew Grammarians, their Consonants are distinguished into Consonants of the Lips, of the Teeth, of the Throat, and of the Palat. The simple Consonants are twelve, B, C, D, F, G, L, M, N, P, R, S, T; to which we might add I and V, when pronounced as Consonants.  
That which makes in the Alphabets of some Languages a greater Number of Consonants, is first, because People join the Sound of several Consonants in such manner, that though they be named double, yet only one of their Sounds is heard: As in Z and X, Z is as much as D and S, X is as much as C and S. This Conjunction augments the Alphabets with a great number of different Consonants. All Languages have not an equal number of these double Letters, in which one of the Consonants being pronounced faintly, causes the Sounds of them both to be confounded, so that but one of them is heard. In the second place, when we pronounce the Consonants with Aspiration, we change their Sound, and that change forms quite different Letters. Aspiration is made, when we strike the Voice against our Throats with some kind of force. This Aspiration is marked with an H. Among the Greeks, an Aspiration added to their 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 makes their 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is as much as Ph with us: An Aspiration joined with their K makes their X, and is as much as our Ch. This Observation makes us comprehend, why in some Languages one Letter has so many different kinds (if I may so call them) for example, the Hebrews have four sorts of S: The Aspiration may be made with different degrees: Wherefore to mark by particular Characters the differences of the pronunciation, we must employ as many different Characters.  
When the Voice is carried up to the Nose, it receives a certain difference: So that if we should be to treat of all Letters that might be imagined, as there are Letters of the Throat, there should be Letters of the Nose. Custom exercises its authority over Letters, as well as over the Body of Discourse, of which Letters are the Members. It depended upon Men to choose among the Sounds of the Voice (which might be infinite in number) those that should be most pleasing and commodious; for which Cause, there are Letters in use in some Languages, that are not used in others.  
Some Nations there are, who express by one single Letter several Sounds; others on the contrary mark the same Sound by different Characters, and have several Letters that might be spared: Among the Latins the K or the Q might be spared, as is observed by Marius Victorinus, who has treated of that matter very profoundly. This is it that has produced so much difference in the Alphabets of Languages both ancient and modern. It is not necessary I observe, that the Tones of the Voice, and the divers inflexions wherewith the same Letters may be pronounced, may change their pronunciation; That there are Letters of which the Sound is not distinct, if we are not careful to join them with such as have sympathy with them. I pass over such things as are commonly regarded as trifles; nevertheless the knowledge of them, though their Object be small, is in some measure necessary: Order has obliged me to repeat what I have said of them before.   

II.  
What is to be avoided in the ranging and disposition of our Words.  
'TIs an Effect of the Wisdom of God, who created Man to be happy, that whatever is useful to his Conversation, is agreeable to him. The pleasure annexed to all the actions that can preserve his life, carries him freely and spontaneously to them. We find it no pain to eat, because the gust and relish of the Meat discovers the necessity of eating to be agreeable: And that which authoriseth this Observation, that God has joined usefulness and pleasure together, is this, because all Victual that conduces to nourishment is relishable, whereas other things that cannot be assimulated and turned into our substance, are insipid.  
This seasoning of Necessity with Delight, is to be found in the Use of Speech. There is a strange sympathy betwixt the Voice of those who speak, and the Ears of those who hear: Words that are spoken with pain, are offensive to the Hearer. The Organs of the Ear are disposed in such sort, that they are offended by a pronunciation that grates upon the Organs of the Voice. A Discourse cannot be pleasant to the Hearer, that is not easy to the Speaker; nor can it be easily pronounced, unless it be heard with delight.  
We feed with more appetite upon wholesome and relishable Meats: We listen more easily to a Discourse, whose smoothness lessens the trouble of attending. It is with Sciences as with Meats: We must endeavour to make those things pleasant, that are useful. Quoniam nonnullam inter se habent similitudinem vescentes atque discentes; propter fastidia plurimorum, etiam ipsa, sine quibus vivi non potest, alimenta condienda sunt.  
Pleasure goes far with every Man, 'tis that which is the Principal of all our Motions, and sets them on work. Prudence requires that we make use of this inclination to conduct us to our designed end; that we delight the Ears, which being the Porters of the Mind, may give our words the more favourable admission. Besides, the pleasure which we give in Speaking, is preceded by our own proper advantage; because the ease of the Speaker, causes the satisfaction of the Hearer. Let us then endeavour first to discover what is to be avoided in the ranging of our Words; what faults may be committed in it; what makes their pronunciation difficult. The first step to Wisdom, is to disclaim Vice: Sapientia prima, stultitiâ caruisse: Besides, in what relates to the Sense, every thing is agreeable that is not offensive. Id omne delectat, quod non offendit, says St. August.  
Among the Letters, some are pronounced with ease, others with pain: Those whose pronunciation is easy, have an agreeable sound; those which are pronounced with difficulty, do grate upon the ear. Consonants are pronounced with more difficulty than Vowels, and therefore their sound is less soft and fluent. It is convenient to temper the harshness of the one by the sweetness of the other, and that is to be done by placing the Vowels betwixt the Consonants, that there may not be too many of them together. This harshness arising from the concourse of Consonants is obvious in the Northern Languages. Dutch and English are very unpleasant to them whose ears have not been accustomed to those Languages.  
Custom takes off this harshness from words, or at least makes us not so sensible of it: Nevertheless it is observed, that according to the different degrees of the people's inclination to delicacy, their words are composed of Letters more or less soft; they having had less regard to follow reason, than to tickle their ears. In respect of this softness of pronunciation the Romans used aufero for abfero, colloco for cumloco, as analogy obliged them to speak. Analogy has remitted of its rights in favour to the softness of pronunciation; Impetratum est a Consuetudine ut suavitatis causa peccare liceret.  
When Consonants have their aspirations, or are pronounced in a quite contrary manner, we are more particularly obliged to avoid their concourse. There are Consonants pronounced with the mouth shut, as P. There are others to be pronounced with the mouth open, as C. etc. These Consonants cannot march together; they do not agree, and therefore cannot be pronounced one after the other immediately, without some kind of difficulty; because we are forced (almost at the same time) to dispose the Organs of pronunciation in several different fashions.  
A second error into which they fall who range their discourse with negligence, is the concourse of two or more Vowels. This concourse of Vowels is unpleasing for a reason quite contrary to what has been given for the harshness of the concourse of Consonants. Consonants are pronounced with pain, Vowels with ease; but this great facility accompanied with great swiftness, is the cause that their sounds are not so distinguishable, but that for the most part one of them is lost; by which means there is a kind of vacuum in the pronunciation, that renders it unpleasing. In pronouncing many Vowels successively, it happens with us as if we were walking upon polished Marble, the too great smoothness is troublesome; it causes us to slip, and 'tis hard for us to keep upon our legs. In pronouncing these two words in French Hardi Ecuyer; or in Latin these, ni intersistat & laboret animus, unless we stop for some time at the words Hardi, or ni, the sound of the first Vowels will be confounded with that which begins the following words, and create an uneasiness to the ear, as not being able to distinguish clearly the two different sounds.  
To prevent this concourse, we either retrench one of the Vowels that are found together, or we put in a Consonant to fill up that void space which would happen without this artifice; for this reason they say in French, qu'il fit, for que il fit; a-t-il fait, for a il fait; fera-t-il, for fera il. When one of the Vowels has a sound strong enough to make itself distinguished, this artifice is useless. This care of ranking of words ought to be without disquiet: We are not to consider as material faults, the failings in this part of the Art of Speaking. Non id ut crimen ingens expavescendum est, ac nescio an negligentia in hoc, an solicitudo sit pejor.  
I know not whether neglect or solicitude is to be most carefully avoided: but negligence has this advantage, that it makes it believed we employ ourselves more about things than words, Indicium est hominis de re, magis quam de verbis laborantis.   

VII.  
In speaking, the voice does many times repose: We may commit three faults in ill-placing the repose of the voice.  
THE necessity of taking breath, obliges to interrupt the course or our pronunciation, and the desire of explaining ourselves distinctly, is the cause that we choose for the repose of our voice the end of every sentence, to distinguish by these intervals the different things of which we speak. Two faults may be committed by ill-distribution of these intervals. If the expressions of each Sentence be too short, and by consequence the pronunciation often interrupted, this interruption lessening the force of the voice, and causing it to fall, the mind of the Reader (that aught to be kept in breath) relaxes, and his intention abates. There is nothing that more cools the heat of an action, than to discontinue it with too many interruptions. Labour makes the mind vigorous, and attentive; Idleness makes it drowsy and stupid. Fit attentior ex difficultate, S. Aug.  
When our thoughts are delivered too short, and the mind of the Reader is obliged to attend sometime to conceive them, this retardment keeps him in breath, and rendering him more attentive, gives him a better conception of the sense of our discourse. We have said in the first Book, that for this reason the Romans rejected at the end of the sentence some word upon which the understanding of the former depended: But without this transposition, and subversion of the natural order, it suffices to hinder that our pronunciation be not often interrupted, to make choice of such copious expressions as may comprehend a competent number of words; or else it is necessary that the things expressed be so linked together, that the first may excite the desire of understanding the latter, and that the voice repose after every sense in such manner, that we may perceive it has still farther to go.  
When a thought is expressed by too great number of words, we fall into another extreme, commonly we continue the actions we have begun; so the voice not reposing till it comes to the end of the sense of which it has begun to pronounce the expression, if the sense comprehends many things, the long succession of words to which it is linked, heats the lungs, and spends the spirits; the pronunciation is incommodious and unpleasant both to speaker and hearer.  
One of the greatest difficulties in Rhetoric is to keep a Mean, and avoid these two Extremes. Those who speak without art, and have but a weak genius, fall commonly into the first errot; they can hardly speak four words that will hang together; every sentence ends as soon as it begins. We hear nothing but for, to conclude, after that, said he, and other such expressions brought in only to patch up the incoherence of the words. There is no fault in Discourse so contemptible and insupportable as this. Those who would exceed, run into another extreme. The first proceed as if they were lame, the other by leaps. For fear of debasing their style, they exalt it too high: They make use of nothing but Bombast, Sesquipedalia verba; and phrases long enough to take away a man's breath.  
'Tis easy to abridge, or lengthen a Sentence: We may link two or more conceits together, make them but one, and so continue the Discourse by a long series of words that make but one sense. There is no need of repairing to hollow and empty phrases, or to blow up our discourse with vain words. On the contrary, if a sentence contains too many things that require great numbers of words, 'tis easy to contract the sense of that sentence, to separate the said things, and to signify them by select expressions, which may be by consequence more short and concise than that which expressed the whole body of the sentence.  
We may likewise commit a third fault against the just distribution of the repose of the voice. In beginning a sentence, when we lift up our voice insensibly, the Greeks call it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and at the end of a sentence when we depress it, it is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 The ear judges of the length of a phrase by the elevation of the voice, if that be loud, it makes us expect many words; if the expected words do not follow, the defect deceives them, and is uneasy as well to the speaker as hearer. It is hard to stop in the midst of a career: When in the dark we are got to the highest step of a pair of stairs without perceiving it, and we believe we may go still higher, the first step we make afterwards discomposes us, and we are in as much disorder as if the board slipped from under our feet: All the expletive particles in French, as pass point, etc. have been found out to supply the place of words which the ear expected. The Greeks have great number of these particles, which have no other use but to lengthen a Discourse, and keep it from falling too suddenly: If the ear be offended with the length of a Discourse, all the words unexpected are importunate. Aures (says Cicero) quid plenum, quid inane sit judicant, & nos admonent complere verbis quae proposuerimus, ut nihil disiderent, nihil amplius expectent. Cum vox ad sententiam expromendam attollitur, remissa donec concludatur arrectae sunt, quo perfecto, completoque ambitu, gaudent; Et curta sentiunt, nec amant redundantia. Idcirco ne mutilae sint, & quasi decurtatae sententiae, hoc est, non ante tempus cadant cavendum, ne quasi promissis aures fraudentur, aut productionibus, aut immoderatius excurrentibus laedantur.   

IV.  
The too frequent repetition of the same Sounds, the same Letters, and the same words, is irksome. The way of rendering the Pronunciation of a Discourse equal.  
AMong the Defects in ranging our Words, we reckon the too frequent repetition of the same Letter, the same termination, the same sound, and the same cadence. Diversity is pleasant; but the best things are troublesome when common. This Fault is the more considerable, because it is easily corrected: We need no more then to run our Eye over the Work, change the Words, the Syllables, the terminations which follow too often. We may express the same things a hundred several ways; Custom supplying different expressions for the same thought.  
The most of the faults of which I have spoken, we avoid to render our Discourse equal and smooth. 'Tis uneasy to walk in an uneven way; an unequal Discourse cannot be carried on without trouble: Pronunciation is incommodious and importunate, when without any proportion we sometimes advance, sometimes depress our voice, and pass from one extremity to another. The words, the syllables, which enter into the composition of a Discourse, have different sounds; the sound of some is clear, the sound of others is obscure: One fills the mouth, another is pronounced with a feeble tone. All do not require the same disposition of the organs of the voice, and that inequality causes the different pronnciations. To support a Discourse, and render it equal, we must help the cadence of a weak word, with another that carries a stronger pronunciation; and on the contrary, tempering the force of one word by the gentleness of another, order it so, that the precedent words dispose the voice to the pronunciation of the subsequent, that the voice may fall by degrees.  
I might add other Precepts, but what I have said is sufficient for their Reflection who would write accurately upon those things which are necessary to be considered in the ranging of words. The principal, and almost the only, profit to be drawn from these Precepts, is that they make us regard several things, which perhaps would not otherwise occur to our thoughts. And farther to persuade you of the usefulness of these Precepts about the disposition of Words, observe I pray, that the Anomala, or irregularities crept into several Languages, are admitted to avoid those Faults which we have decried. This is the reason of those multitude of pricks which supply the place of Vowels in the Hebrew Language. This is the reason of the different long and short Points which are changed according to the different Inflexions of the Verbs, and the disposition of Notes signified by the Elevations, Depressions, and Reposes of the Voice. This is the reason of that word Sceva, which sometimes is, and sometimes is not pronounced. It is only to equal the pronunciation, to strengthen it by long Points where there is occasion, and to lessen it by their brevity, when the equality of the pronunciation requires it.  
The nicety of the Greeks is well known. I will not lose time to let you see how to avoid the unpleasing concourse of two Consonants with Aspirations, they change the first into a tenuem that answers to it, saying for example 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: How to fill up the void space which happens sometimes betwixt two Vowels, of two words they make but one, for example 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, they pronounce 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; or insert a Consonant, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. How they use not this Artifice when one of the Vowels is long, and has a sound strong enough to distinguish it, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. You know already that to fortify the pronunciation, when the word following begins with an Aspiration, it changes the tenuem into an asperum at the end of the first word, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 having a rough Spirit, requires a strong pronunciation, which would be hard to do, after you have pronounced the tenues K & T. whose Sounds are but weak. The Grammarians observe that the Greeks say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in the Pretertense of the Medium, for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to avoid the triple repetition of the same Consonant 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Every man can makie the same Reflections upon the Latin, and generally upon all Languages that he knows. The great number of words in every Language, that are diversified in their terminations, and the number of their Syllables; the abundance of Expressions (some of which are short, and some long) were invented only to make their Sentences equal, and give them means to choose in that variety, the most commodious words and phrases, and rejecting such as could not be handsomely joined, in compositine rixantes, supply their places with those that are more convenient.    

CHAP. II.  

I.  
Words are Sounds. Conditions necessary to make Sounds agreeable. The first Condition. A Violent Sound is disagreeable: A moderate Sound pleases.  
WE have seen in the Foregoing Chapter what is to be avoided in the ranging of Words▪ that they may not offend the Ear. Let us in this see what we are to do to make the Sounds made by these words agreeable and pleasing: All things that are moderate are pleasing; those Meats which move the Nerves of the Tongue softly, affect the Soul with the pleasure of Sweetness: Those Meats which prick the Nerves, or act upon them with violence, are sharp, piquant, or bitter. The heat of Fire causes pain; the rigour of Cold is insupportable; a moderate Heat is useful for Health, and fresh Air is agreeable God has decreed (to render the prison of his Body agreeable to the Soul of Man, and make him love it) that whatever happens to the Body, and disturbs not its good disposition, should give him content. It is pleasing to see, to feel, to touch, to taste, etc. There is not a sense that we can want without trouble. The sense of a sound must then be pleasing to the Ear, when it strikes it with moderation. Soft Sounds strike with moderation upon the Organs of Hearing. Those Sounds which offend them are irksome and disagreeable.   

II.  
The Second Condition; A Sound aught to be distinct, and by Consequence strong enough to be heard.  
BUt a Sound aught likewise to be strong enough to be heard: Meats that are insipid, do rather spoil the Appetite, than provoke it: We are forced to season and make them relishable with Vinegar and Salt. It is with matters belonging to Sensation, as with matters belonging to knowledge that depend not upon the Body. An imperfect knowledge of a thing does but trouble and perplex the curiosity; and makes us but understand that we are ignorant. We resent with some pain what we perceive but obscurely. In a Sun-shiny day the prospect of a Field is pleasant; whatever we discern clearly, whether by the sense or the mind, is pleasant; and thus you have had two necessary conditions to make Sounds grateful. The first, that they be not so violent to disturb the Ear; The Second, that they be clear, and distinctly to be heard.   

III.  
The Equality of Sounds contributes to the rendering them distinct, which is a Third Condition.  
IT is not always the want of Force that renders the Sense confused, but sometimes inequality. Unequal Sounds that strike the Organs strongly or weakly, swiftly or flowly without proportion, trouble the mind, as diversity of Affairs trouble a man who cannot apply himself to all of them at once. The sight of a multitude of different Objects disposed without order, is confused. In a Cabinet well-furnished with Jewels, adorned with Pictures, Sculptures, Cutts, Medals, Shells, etc. the sight of all these Curiosities is not agreeable, if they be not disposed with Order. Why is it that Trees planted in order are more delightful than those that are ranged without Art, as Nature has disposed them? Why is it that an Army drawn up in Battalia, is pleasing and formidable at the same time? Many Reasons may be given, but in my opinion it is the equality and order that renders our sensation more distinct. The clearness wherewith the mind perceives the things between which there is an equality and order, gives it satisfaction, and a full enjoyment of what it desires. If there be no order betwixt the impression of Sounds, they can never be distinguished by the Ear. In an assembly of several persons where all speak at a time, scarce one word is to be understood. In a regular Consort, though composed of several Instruments and Voices, we underderstand without confusion or pain the sound of every Instrument, and the Notes of every Voice; and this distinction makes them pleasing to the Ear.   

IV.  
The Fourth Condition. Diversity is as necessary as Equality, to make Sounds agreeable.  
CIcero says very well, the Ear is hard to be pleased, Fastidiosissimae sun● aures. We many times displease, when we design to please them. Equality is necessary, and without it our sense is not distinct; we perceive things but confusedly, and with trouble when we enjoy things imperfectly that we love and desire: and yet this equality grows tedious and insupportable when continued too long. The Ear is inconstant as the rest of the Senses. Omnis voluptas habet finitimum fastidium. The greatest pleasures are attended with disgust. Those who understand the Art of Pleasing, prevent these Disgusts, and cause a successive sensation of different pleasures, overcoming by variety the difficult humour of men who are disturbed at all these things. 'Tis not only Fancy, and Caprichio, that makes variety necessary; Nature itself requires it. A Sound tires the Ear by striking upon it too long. In all actions diversity is necessary, because the pain being divided, each part of the Organ is the less oppressed.   

V.  
The Fifth Condition is to unite and link together the former Conditions.  
IN appearance the two last Conditions are incompatible, and destructive the one to the other; But they agree very well, and equality and variety may consist without any confusion. There is in nothing more variety, than in a Garden of Flowers, there are Tulips, and Violets, and Roses, etc. The Borders or Compartments are different, some round, some oval, some square, some triangular. Yet if this Plot be considered by a skilful man, the equality agrees well enough with the variety, being divided into Beds proportioned one to the other, and adorned with regular Figures.  
We will show now how equality and variety may consist in Sounds. It is this consistency that makes the Consort in Music; for, as Saint Augustine says well, the Ear cannot receive a greater contentment than what it feels when it is charmed by diversity of Sounds, and yet is not deprived of the pleasure that equality gives it. Quid enim auribus jucundius potest esse, quam cum & veritate mulcen●ur, nec aequalitate fraudantur?   

VI  
The sixth Condition that this agreement of Equality and Diversi●y be sensible, and what is to be observed to make it so.  
THis agreement of equality and variety ought to be sensible, so as the temperament may be perceivable to the Ear. Wherefore all Sounds in which that Agreement is to be found, aught to be joined, and the ear ought in like manner to hear them without any considerable interruption. The Symmetry of a Building cannot be observed when we see but one part of it. For this reason a skilful Architect orders things so, that as far as is possible his House may be considered at a single view. That the Ear may discern the order and proportion of several Sounds, it is necessary that they be compared: In all comparisons 'tis supposed the terms of the Comparison are present, and joined one with the other, and it is this union that makes the Beauty and Pleasure of Harmony. Plus delectant omnia qu●● singula, si possint sentiri omnia.   

VII.  
What the Ear distinguishes in the Sound of Words, and what it may perceive with delight.  
THese Conditions are necessary to all Sounds to make them agreeable, whether it be to the sounds of the Voice, or of Instruments; yet I have designed to speak only of the Sounds of Humane Voices, which I distinguish into two sorts, Forced, and Natural. The forced Voice is used in Singing, when the Air that makes the sound is forced with violence from the Lungs. The Natural Voice is that which we use when we speak, it is formed with ease, and wearies not the Organs like the other. What I shall say hereafter in this Treatise, relates only to the Natural Voice. Let us see now how we may make the Sounds or Words have such conditions as may render them agreeable to the Ear.  
We may without much difficulty range our Discourse in such manner, that the pronunciation be neither too violent nor saint; that it be moderate and distinct, and that our Discourse by consequence have the two first conditions. The first Chapter has been spent entirely in instructing what is to be done, and what to be avoided, that our Discourse may not grate upon the ear, but be heard distinctly. We have shown how carefully we are to avoid the concurrence of two ruff Consonents; How we are to fill up the void spaces betwixt words where the course of the pronunciation would be stopped▪ With what prudence we are to correct the rufness of some Syllables with the softness of others; in a word, how we may equal the pronunciation, and sustain the sound of weak Letters, by associating them with stronger.  
The Four other Conditions may be found in different manners in Discourse. The Ear perceives several things in pronunciation, besides the sound of the Letters. First, it judges of the measure of time in which each Letter, each Syllable, each Word, each expression, is pronounced. Next, it judges of the Elevations and Depressions of the Voice, by which in speaking, each word, each expression, is distinguished. In the third place the Ear observes the silence or repose of the Voice at the end of Words or Sentences, when we join or separate words: when we cut off a Vowel, and several other things comprised under the name of Accents, the knowledge of which is absolutely necessary for pronunciation. These accents may be very numerous: There are more than thirty of them in the Hebrew Grammars. If you will believe Servius Honoratus there are eight among the Latins. The Sharp figured thus (´) which shows when the Voice is to be raised. The Grave (`) when it is to be depressed. The Circumflex composed of the Sharp and the Grave as thus (● or ●) the Long described thus (-) which shows that the Voice is to stop upon the Vowel that has that mark: The Short which shows that the time of pronunciation ought to be short (˘) the Hyphen or Conjunction that implys two words are to be joined as Male-sanus. The Diastole or Division, (,) which shows they are to be separated; the Apostrophe (') which shows there is a Vowel to be rejected. The Diastole and the Apostrophe have the same mark, with this difference, that in the Apostrophe it is placed at the top of the Letter, ad Caput literae; in the Diastole in the bottom, ad pedem.  
But we may order it so that the Ear may receive all these with delight, by observing the four conditions promised, disposing (for example) our words with such Artifice, that the Measures of the time of our pronunciation be equal; that the pauses of the Voice or intervals of Respiration be suitable; that the Voice be raised or debased with equal degrees. We may join Equality with Variety, by making several of those conjoined measures to be equal, though the parts of which they are composed be unequal, and by ordering things so that the Ear may receive this temperament with pleasure: but this requires longer Explication.    

CHAP. III.  

I.  
The Art to render Pronunciation agreeable is to be used with Prudence.  
BEfore we demonstrate the Utility of the Observations made in the former Chapter, now whilst we speak of the Art of Pleasing, and are wholly employed to find out in Discourse what is pleasing to the Ear; it is convenient to reflect upon this Maxim, that the most agreeable things are disagreeable in several cases. Divertisement is not at at all times seasonable; working and playing are not to be used together; we never step in measure, when we follow our affairs. When we are simply to discover our thoughts, when we are only to make the people sensible what we have in our minds: a man of judgement will not always trouble himself to consider exactly, and measure his words, nor take the pains to place precisely the pauses of his Pronunciation. Pleasure is not pleasure but where it is desired; if it comes unseasonably, it displeases, because it diverts our Application from what it was seriously fixed upon.  
Discourse then is to be distinguished into two Kind's, Natural and Artificial. Natural Discourse is that which is used in Conversation to express ourselves, to instruct and signify the motions of our Will, and the thoughts of our Mind. Artificial Discourse is used to please, and with all possible art (beyond the Natural and Familiar way) to charm and allure our Auditors. In Natural Discourse, it is sufficient if we observe exactly what has been prescribed in the first Chapter of this Book, not but that Art may be called in sometimes to our assistance: Matters of natural Discourse are not always so austere, but they may admit of some little Divertisement.  
No man is ignorant of the difference betwixt Verse and Prose; it is sufficiently manifest, the Discourse that is tied up to the strict Rules▪ of Versification, is far from a free Discourse, as that is which we use when we talk naturally and without art. For this reason Discourses in Verse are called particularly artificial. We are obliged to begin this Art of which we are treating, by showing how we may give to free and natural Discourse, (that is to say to Prose) the conditions that render Sounds agreeable, without entrenching upon its liberty. After which, in order we shall come to artificial Discourse, as Verse, etc. This Art in Prose is reducible to two things, either to render our Prose Periodical, or Figurative. Let us see now what is a Period, and what a Figure; how we may render a Discourse Periodical, and how Figurative.   

II.  
How we are to distribute the Intervals of Respiration, that the repose of the Voice may be proportionable.  
WE are obliged to take breath from time to time; the necessity of being understood, makes us stop commonly at the end of every expression to respire, that the repose of the Voice may serve to render our Discourse more clear, and give us power to reassume new force for the continuation of our Speech. The Voice does not repose equally at the end of every sense; in a Sentence where there is much comprised, we repose a little at the end of every Comma; yet this repose hinders not from perceiving, that we would speak farther. That part of a perfect sense, which makes part of a greater sentence, is called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in Latin, Incisum. When we hear this part of an entire sense, the Ear is not satisfied, because the pronunciation remains suspended till the Sentence be finished. For example, when we begin▪ Cum Regium sit bene facere, & audire male, seeing it is a Royal quality to do right where we receive wrong. The Ear is attentive, and diligent to understand what follows. The Greeks call a perfect sense that makes but a part of a more complete Sentence, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Latins Membrum, a Member. The Ear is pleased with the part of a Sentence, but yet hankers after something that may render it complete. Si quantum in agris, locisque desertis audacia potest, tantum in foro atque judiciis impudentia valeat: If impudence could do as much at the Bar in Courts of Justice, as Courage could do in the field. You may find by your Ear that there is sense in what is said, and the Ear is in some measure satisfied; but yet there remains a desire of something to make it more complete, and there is something wanting to the Body of the Sentence, though the Members are sufficiently intelligible.  
The Voice cannot repose but by depressing; nor begin again but by elevating itself; for which reason in each Member there are two parts. Elevation and Depression of the Voice. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Voice reposes not absolutely, but at the end of a Sentence: not debases itself, but by finishing the pronunciation of a Sentence. When the Members which compose the body of a Sentence are equal; and the Voice in pronouncing them reposes by equal Intervals; advances and falls again with proportion; the expression of that Sentence is called a Period. 'Tis a word which is borrowed from the Greeks, and signifies in Latin Circuitus. Periods comprehend (like a Circumference) all the Senses which are Members of the Body of a Sentence. The Art of composing Periods consists (as is manifest) in equalling and proportioning the expressions of each Member of a Sentence. Let us see now how that is to be done.   

III.  
The Composition of Periods.  
TO compose a Period, or (which is the same thing) to express a Sentence that is composed of two or more several Senses, with such art, that the expressions in the said Sentence may have the Conditions necessary to please the Ear; we must first provide that the expressions be not too long, and that the whole Period be proportioned to the breath of him who is to pronounce it. We must have an eye to all contained in the sentence that we would comprise in one Period: We may make choice of Expressions close, or extended; and retrench, or add, as we find convenient, to give it a just length: But we must have a care not to insert Periods that are useless and weak to fill up Vacancy's, and complete the Cadence of the Period. Inania Complementa, & ramenta numerorum.  
2. The expressions of particular senses, that are Members of the Body of a Sentence, aught to be equal, that the Voice may repose at the end of these Members by equal Intervals. The more this Equality is exact, the more it is pleasant; as we may see in this example. Haec est enim non facta, sed nata lex; quam non didicimus, accepimus, legimus, verum ex Natura ipsa arripuimus, hausimus, expressimus: ad quam non docti, sed facti; non instituti, sed imbuti sumus.  
3. A Period ought to consist at least of two Members, and at most but of Four: A Period is to have at least two Members, because its Beauty proceeds from the equality of the Members, and equality supposes at least two terms. The Masters of this Art would not have four Members crowded into one period, because being too long, the pronunciation must be forced, which must by consequence be displeasing to the Ear, because a Discourse that is incommodious to the Speaker can never be agreeable to the hearer.  
4. The Members of a Period ought to be joined close, that the ear may perceive the equality of the Intervals of Respiration: For this cause the Members of a Period ought to be united by the union of a single Sentence, of the body of which they are Members. This union is very discernible, for the Voice reposes at the end of every Member, only the better to continue its course: It stops not quite, but at the end of the whole Sentence. A Period, like a Circle, incompasses and encloses the whole sense of a Sentence, and causes the ear with ease to perceive the distinction or union of its Members.  
5. The Voice is elevated or depressed in each Member: The two parts where the inflexions are made, aught to be equal, that the degrees of Elevation and Depression may correspond. In pronouncing an entire Period, we raise our Voice to the middle of the Sentence, and let it fall gradually afterward. The two parts called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, must correspond by their Equality.  
6. Variety may be in a Period two ways: In the sense, and in the words. The sense of each Member of the Period ought to differ among themselves: In Discourse variety falls in of itself. We cannot express the different thoughts of our mind, but by different words of different significations. But a Period may be composed of two Members, of three Members, and sometimes of four Members. Equal Periods are not to follow one another too near; it is best when Discourse flows with most liberty: The exact and precise equality of the Intervals for Respiration, may become troublesome.   

IV.  
Examples of some Latin Periods: Periods are Pronounced with Ease.  
THe Cadence of the French Language being not so intelligible, I shall present some passages in Cicero that I have chosen for examples of the Latin Periods. An example of a Period of two Members. 1. Antequam de Republica, (Patres conscripti) di●am ea quae dicenda sunt hoc tempore. 2. Exponam breviter Consilium & profectionis & reversionis. The following Period has three members. 1. Nam cum antea, per aetatem, hujus auctoritatem loci contingere non auderem; 2. Statueremque nihil huc nisi perfectum industria, elaboratum ingenio offerri oportere. 3. Meum tempus omne amicorum temporibus transmittendum putavi. This last consists of Four Members. 1. Si quantum in agro, locisque desertis audacia potest. 2. Tantum in foro, ac in Judiciis impudentia valeret. 3. Non minus in causa cederet Aulus Coecinna, Sexti Aebusii imp●dentiae. 4. Quantum in vi facienda cessit audaciae.  
Sometimes we conclude the end of each member of a Period with terminations almost alike, which produces an equality in the Cadences of Members, and makes the Period more harmonious; as may be observed in several examples, where all the Periods are not equally studied.  
The care that we take to place properly the repose of the voice in the Periods, makes us pronounce them without pain; and it has been observed, that things of easiest pronunciation are most grateful to the Ear. Id auribus nostris gratum est inventum, quod hominum lateribus non solum tolerabile, sed etiam facile esse potest. This reason obliges an Orator to speak Periodically. Periods maintain Discourse, and are pronounced with certain Majesty that gives weight to the words. But it is to be considered that this majesty is unseasonable when it follows the motions of Passion, whose precipitation suffers not any regular way of ranging, and composing our words. A Discourse equally periodical cannot be pronounced but coldly, Passion admits not of Rules; Periods (as I said before) are not good, but when we would speak with Authority, or delight the Ear. We cannot run and walk in Cadence at the same time.   

V.  
The Figurative ranging of Words, and in what these Figures consist.  
WE have said at large in the Second Book, that Figures in Discourse are the characters of the agitations of the mind; that words do follow upon these agitations; and that when we speak naturally, the passion that causes us to speak, describes itself in our words. The Figures of which we are speaking are different, they are traced at leisure by a mind that is quiet. The first are made by sally's; they are violent, they are strong, proper to contest and vanquish a mind that opposes the truth: Those of which we are speaking are without that force, and unfit for any thing but Diversion. I speak of those that are elaborate and studied; for it may happen that the condition of these last Figures wherewith we adorn our Discourse for Divertisement, may be found by accident in those Figures which we prepare for Dispute.  
We have shown in the first Chapter, that the repetition of the same word, the same letter, or the same sound, is unpleasant: But we have observed in the Second Chapter that when that repetition is made with art, it is not ungrateful to the ear. In short, the most disagreeable sounds are pleasing when delivered with fit Intervals. The noise of a Hammer is unpleasant, yet when the Smith strikes upon his Anvil with proportion, it makes a kind of Consort that is pleasing to the Ear. We cannot repeat a sound, a letter, or word, but it makes our Discourse figurative; The Art of Figures consists in the repetition of a letter; of the same termination; of the same word, by proportionated time, and equality of interval, sometime in the beginning, sometime in the end, and sometime in the middle of a Sentence; as may be seen in the examples of these figures, which I have drawn for the most part out of very good Poets.  
Figures may be infinite, because the repetition that makes them may be made infinite ways, and all of them different. We may repeat the same word simply without altering the signification, as My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Or we may change the signification of the word, 
Vn Pere est toujours Pere, & malgre son courroux,  
Quand il nous veut frapper, l'amour retient ses coups.  
A Father's still a Father, when his rage  
Prompts him to strike, his Love does it assuage.   
The Second word Father is taken for the motions of tenderness which Fathers feel for their Children.  
Sometimes the same expression is repeated in the beginning of every member of a Discourse.  
Il n'est crimes abominables,  
Il n'est brutales actions,  
Il n'est infames passions  
Don't les mortels ne soient coupables, etc.  
There are no abominable Crimes,  
There are no brutish actions,  
There are no infamous passions  
Of which man is not guilty.  
Sometimes the same word is placed at the beginning, and end of a Sentence.  
Vengez-vous dans le temps, de mes faults passes,  
Mais dans l'Eternite ne vous en vengez pas.  
Revenge in time my frailties and my faults;  
But in Eternity revenge them not.  
Sometimes the same word is placed at the end of one Member, and the beginning of the next; sometimes at the beginning of a Member, and the end of the next. Sometimes the same words are repeated in the middle of the Members of a Sentence. Sometimes they are repeated in all the Members; sometimes in the same member the same words are used at the beginning, and then inverting the Order, placed in the end.  
There is a sort of Repetition which is made by giving a lesser transposition of the repeated word.  
There is another way wherein all these repetitions are made at the same time; as in this example taken out of Prosper.  
No man does Grace prevent; each good desire  
Is kindled in him by that sacred fire.  
So 'tis the way that leads us in the way;  
Without it's own light none beholds the day.  
Who without God would go to God is blind,  
And seeking Life, is certain death to find.  
Rhetoricians give to these several Figures, (which are but several sorts of Repetition to particular Names,) with which it is not necessary to oppress the memory of the Reader.   

VI  
Reflections upon these Figures.  
I Never designed to comprehend all sorts of these Figures that may be possibly invented, I have thought it sufficient to give some examples of them. Expressions figured in this manner may be valued for the sense which they contain; but 'tis evident that these Figures of themselves are worthy but of moderate esteem. The art of making them is very obvious, and indeed too gross: Our Language is natural, and loves them not, and the best of our Authors avoid them with more care than others affect them. They will scarce entertain them when they fall in of themselves, and seem to come by chance. Meaner Wits are fond of these Figures, this feeble artifice being commensurate to their strength, and conformable to their Genius. Puerilibus ingeniis hoc gratius, quod propius est. Yet I am not so critical as to condemn all these Figures; the examples I have inserted would rise in judgement against me; Let us try then what we can say in their favour.  
We compare all these Figures to the Knots and Figures of a Garden: As they are pleasing to the eye by their variety, and order with which they are ingeniously disposed; so the sounds and words of a Discourse being figured as we have directed, are as agreeable to the ear. Reason permits those Figures when they are not too much affected, and fall in as it were by accident. They may likewise be compared to the Figures upon the works of Nature, where she seems to sport and delight herself in diversifying. A Traveller tires himself sometimes in the contemplation of a shell, or a Flower. A melancholy Reader is revived by this Figurative disposition of words; the Figures renew his attention, and those little Artifices do not displease him. Some of these Figures I have observed in Holy Writ, and particularly in Isaiah, the most eloquent of all the Prophets. The Fathers used them, either in complaisance to that Age which delighted in them, or because a Sentence is easier retained that runs with a Cadence. But continually to affect them is a very great fault. I know not how it comes about that men have so much esteem for some Authors that are full of those Affectations: I cannot think it a sign of great Wit to spend whole days in ranking their words with an inconsiderable exactness. A Discourse with this Artifice does not affect, nor make impression upon a serious person; it takes only with those who delight in sporting with words, and belongs only to such Authors as are empty of matter; rich only in trifles, and understand nothing but how to surprise the Common people with harmonious noise: Canoris Nugis.    

CHAP. IU.  

I.  
Of the measure of Time in Pronunciation.  
THe Voice does necessarily stop some time upon every Syllable, to make it distinct and intelligible. Our present Disquisition is about the Measure of Time in matter of Pronunciation; how to proportion it, and give it the conditions requisite to such things as the Ear perceives in pronunciation. The manner of Pronouncing is not the same in all Countries. The pronunciation of the present Languages in Europe, is different from the pronunciation of the ancient Languages as Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. In the present Languages we stop equally upon all Syllables, and the time in pronouncing all the Vowels is the same. In ancient Languages the Vowels are distinguished by difference of time. Some are called long, because pronounced in longer time; others are called short because their pronunciation is quicker.  
We ought not to imagine that we pronounce at this day the Greek and the Latin, as the Greeks and Romans did of old. In their Discourse they distinguished the quantity of every Vowel. We, when we pronounce a Latin word, observe only the time of the last Vowel but one. Though the last Vowel be short, we pronounce it as if it were long. Yet Saint Austin tells us, that whoever in reading this verse of Virgil, Arma, virumque cano, Trojae qui primus aboris, Should pronounce primis for primus, is being long, and us short, he should spoil the harmony of the Verse. Whose Ear among us is so delicate as to perceive this difference? Quis se sentit deformitate soni offensum? And yet the ears of the Romans in Saint Augustin's time were offended with this alteration.  
We call Measure a certain number of Syllables distinguished and understood by the ear, separately from another number of Syllables: The union of two, or more Measures makes a Verse. The Latin word Versus signifies properly Ranged; and we give that name to words, because in writing they are distinguished from Prose, which is a continued Line. Prosa Oratio, quasi prorsa Oratio, Marius Victorinns tells us, that Versus comes a Versuris, that is a repetita Scriptura ea ex parte in quam desinit. The Romans anciently writ by Purrows, having begun to write first from the left to the right hand, the second Line was writ from the right to the left hand, as Oxen plough the ground; for which reason, as the same Author observes, that manner of writing was called Bustrophe, a Boum versatione.   

II.  
Of the making of Verse.  
EQual measures of Time in Pronunciation, cannot be agreeable (as we have said before) unless they be distinguishable: For that, it is necessary that the Ear distinguishes these Measures, and at the same time that they are heard separately, that they be joined together, so as the Ear comparing one with the other, may perceive their equality; which equality presupposes at least two Terms, and some distinction betwixt the said Terms: For we do not say of two great things, that they are equal unless both of them be present to our mind. Besides, the equality of Measures ought to be joined with variety, as we have evinced at large in the Second Chapter; from whence we collect that the Artifice of the structure of a Verse consists in the Observation of these four things.  
1. Each measure ought to be heard distinctly, and separately from every other Measure.  
2. These Measures are to be equal.  
3. These Measures ought not to be the same; they must have some difference betwixt them, that their Variety and Equality may be united in the Measures.  
4. This Alliance of Equality and Variety cannot be distinguishable in the Measures if they be not joined one with the other. It is necessary therefore that the ear hears them both together; that it compares them; and that in the comparison it perceives the equality that they have in their difference.  
The pronunciation of Languages being different, the structure of Verse cannot be the same in all Languages: All their difference nevertheless is reducible to two Heads; for the Latin and Greek Poesy do differ from the French, Italian, and Spanish Poesy, only because in these latter Languages they pronounce all the Syllables equally, as not having the distinction of short and long Vowels. Wherefore I shall not be obliged to speak particularly of the structure of Verse in each Language: It will suffice for my design to discover the Fundamental Rules of the Latin and French Poetry.   

III.  
How the Romans distinguished their measures. How many sorts of Measures there are in the structure of a Verse.  
EVery Measure in the Latin Poetry is understood separately and distinctly by the elevation of the Voice at the beginning, and the depression or relaxation of it at the end. These Measures are called Feet, because the Verse seem to march or step in Cadence by means of their Measure. So the Foot of a Latin verse, as Victorinus observes, is formed by the raising or relaxation of the Voice. Alterna syllabarum sublatione & positione, pedes nituntur & formantur. The Romans beat their measure as they recited their Verse: Plaudendo recitababant, Pedis pulsus ponebatur, tollebaturque from whence came this phrase, Percutere pedes versus, to distinguish the Feet or Measures of a Verse.  
To determine how many different Measures or Feet are used in the Latin Poetry, we must attentively observe these following Rules which are founded upon the necessity of rendering our Measures clear and distinct.  

The First Rule.  
It is clear, and without dispute, a Foot ought to consist of two Syllables at least; upon the first of which Syllables the Voice is to be raised; upon the Second it is to be depressed to make it more remarkable.   

The Second Rule.  
The two Syllables of a Foot cannot be both short, because they would pass too swiftly, and the Ear would not have time to distinguish two different degrees in the Voice that pronounces them, that is to say, an Elevation and Depression.   

The Third Rule.  
Two short Feet in pronunciation, are equivalent to one long. That is to say, the time of pronunciation in a long Vowel, is equal to the time of pronunciation of two short Vowels.   

The Fourth Rule.  
A Foot cannot be composed of more than two long Syllables, or two equivalent to two long Syllables; for those in the middle, betwixt the two extremes, (upon which the Voice rises and falls) will trouble the harmony, and hinder the equality of Measures, as I shall show; at present I speak only of simple Feet that may form a perfect harmony. Those which are called composed Feet consist of two simple Feet.   

The Fifth Rule.  
A Foot cannot be composed of above three Syllables: should it consist of four Syllables, they would be either all short, or some of them long. If they were all short, their pronunciation would be too glib, and by consequence vicious; a Foot of four short Syllables cannot be distinctly underderstood. If in a Foot of four Syllables there be one long, and three short, the long Syllable will not be equivalent to the three short, which measure offends against the Fourth Rule.   

The Sixth Rule.  
The Ear reduces always the composed Measures to the simple, because simple things are understood and heard with more ease and distinction: So a Measure composed of Four long Syllables, is by the Ear reducible into Two.  
These Rules give us to understand that all Simple Feet consist either of two or three Syllables: Let us now see how many sorts may be of two Syllables, and how many of three.  
A Foot consisting of two Syllables, both of them long, is called Spondaeus.  
When it consists of two short Syllables, it is called Pyrrichus.  
When the first of the two Syllables is long, and the second short, 'tis called Trochaeus.  
When the first is short, and the second long, it is called Jambus.  
In a Foot of three Syllables when they are all long, it is called Molossus.  
When they are all short, it is called Tribrachus.  
When the first is long, and the two other short, it is called Dactylus.  
When the last is long, and the two first short, it is called Anapaesteus.  
When the first is short, and the two last long, it is called Bachius.  
When the two first are long, and the last short, it is called Antibachius.  
When the two extremes are long, and the middle short, it is called Amphimacres.  
When the two extremes are short, and that in the middle long it is called Amphibrachus.  
But all these Feet cannot be brought into Verse, because they have not the requisite conditions in their Measure. Many are excluded in Poetry by the precedent Rules. The Pyrrichus by the Second: the Molossus by the Fourth: The Bachius and Antibachius by the same Rule: The Amphimacres and the Ampbibracus by the Sixth; besides this we shall make it appear that equality cannot be preserved in the two last measures; so that there are in effect but six Feet, that is to say, the Spondaeus, the Trochaeus, the Jambus, the Tribrachus, the Dactylus, and the Anapaestus. There are several others named, but all of them naturally reducible to these six sorts of Feet.    

IV.  
Of the Quality of Measures.  
WHen two Syllables are pronounced in equal time, the quantity or time of the said Syllables are reckoned to be equal. This Equality is found betwixt two Syllables, and a third, when in the same time that one of the said Syllables is pronounced, we have leisure to pronounce the other two. We say that the time of one syllable is either the double or treble of the time of a second syllable, if in the time that we pronounce the one the other may be pronounced in the same space of time twice or thrice: so the quantity of a long Syllable is double the time of a short. When the time of the pronunciation of two Syllables can be measured by a precise measure, and the time of the pronunciation of the one is double to the time of pronunciation of the other, the proportion prevents confusion, and makes the Ear perceive distinctly the quantity of the said Syllables; for which reason it must necessarily please, seeing the Equality (as we have said before) is agreeable only because it renders Sounds distinct, and takes away confusion. There is in every Measure or Foot an Elevation, and a Relaxation. Pes habet elationem & positionem. To the end therefore that Equality may be kept, the time of Elevation ought to be equal to the time of Relaxation. In a Spondaeus, the time of Relaxation, and Elevation perfectly equal, because the Foot is composed of two long Syllables. It is the same in the Dactylus and Anapaestus, the time of the two short Syllables being equal to the time of a long Syllable. In the Trochaeus and the Jambus the equality is not so exact, for the difference betwixt a long Syllable and a short is not so distinguishible as to offend the Ear.  
This is to be observed; a considerable silence is equivalent at least to a short quantity. So a Trochaeus is equivalent to a Spondaeus or a Dactylus, if after that Foot the voice reposes and stops, and then the time of Relaxation is equal with the time of Elevation; which is of importance to be considered, in answer to an Objection that may be raised against what we have said, that a Measure or Foot does necessarily require two Syllables. In Odes there are feet to be found that consist only of one long Syllable; but the Repose of the Voice, Distinctionis mora, where the silence that follows a long quantity, holds the place of a short, with that long quantity, it makes a Trochaeus, which is a measure of two Syllables.  
In this we may see the grounds of what we have said before, that a foot cannot be composed of more than two long Syllables; for if the Elevation or Relaxation comprehends the intervenient Syllable, there will be no farther equality betwixt the two parts. If this Syllable be not comprised in either of the two parts of the measure 〈◊〉 will add nothing to the harmony, and by consequence be troublesome. For this reason the Amphimacres, and the Amphibrachus cannot stand in a Verse, because there must be either a short quantity betwixt two long; or a long quantity betwixt two short; so that the intermediat Syllable not being to be joined with either of the extremities, but by troubling the Equality, it becomes useless, and interrupts the harmony. And yet these quantities may be brought into an harmonious structure, the times of their Elevation and Relaxation being proportionable. In a foot of three long Syllables (which we have called Molossus) the time of Relaxation upon the two last long Syllables, is double to the time of elevation upon the first long Syllable, for which reason the times are proportionable, and by consequence may be agreeable to the Ear as we have said before. So a Discourse composed of a mixture of those feet, may be harmonious. But in this case Verse is excluded, because the harmony of Verse ought to be distinguishible, which cannot be, if the equality of the measures be not axactly observed. In an Jambus and a Trochaeus this equality is not to be kept; but the difference betwixt a short quantity and a long is not much discernible, because a short quantity is pronounced quick. Whereas the inequality betwixt the parts of a measure of three long Syllables is very plain, being much greater; for two long are as much as four short, V V V V, one long, is to two long as to V V, and one long is to one short as to V. Victorinus tells us a short is a quantity, and therefore as Servius Honorius observes, a Spondaeus has four times.  
A measure is equal to another measure, when the time of their pronunciation is equal. The Spondaeus, the Dactylus, and the Anapaestus are of equal measures. Tempora elationis & positionis aequalia sunt. The Trochaeus, the Jambus, and the Tribrachus are likewise of equal measures, for the two short of the three of a Tribrachus being equivalent to the one long, that foot is equal to a Trochaeus, or an Jambus. The equality is not exactly just betwixt a Spondaeus, or an Jambus; but, as is said, the difference being small, a verse may be well composed of the six sort of Feet before mentioned, because they are equal, or very near equal. We shall speak hereafter of the placing of these feet.   

V  
Of the Variety of these Measures, and the Alliance of their Equality with their Variety.  
VAriety is so necessary to prevent the disgust of the most agreeable things, that the Musicians who accuratly endeavour the proportion and consonance of Sounds, do always affect discord in their Harmony, that is to say, they neglect the perfect Unison of their Voice, that grating may, like Salt, provoke the appetite of the Ear. If therefore the Poets should not approve the Rules we have given, we are not to be blamed, because to them we have added this, that we are to correct the sweetness of the Equality, by the Salt (as I may call it) of the Variety.  
Variety is found several ways in Latin verse. I speak not of that which consists in the difference of Sense, and the diversity of words. First, it is clear that in the Dactylus, the Trochaeus, the Jambus, the Anapaestus, and the Tribrarchus the Elevation is fardifferent, from the depression or relaxation: and though the quantity of two short Vowels be equal to a long, yet the Ear perceives a sensible difference betwixt a long Syllable and two short, Syllables: so though the time or quantity of a Spondaeus, a Dactylus, and Anapaestus be equal, yet their difference is discernible. In dactylo tollitur una longa, ponuntur duae breves; In Anapaesto tolluntur duae breves, ponitur una longa; S: in spondaeo tollitur & ponitur una longa.  
A Verse is not commonly made of one sort of feet; Hexameters are made of Spondy's and Dactyls. Pentameters of Spondy's, Dactyls, and Anapoestis. Iambics of several sorts of Feet. Lyric, are more diversified than others; because they not only receive different Feet, but also the number of their feet is unequal, sometimes more and sometimes less.  
A Verse composed wholly of Spondes, or wholly of Dactyls, would not please; we must temper the swiftness of the Dactyle, by the slowness and gravity of the Sponde: An Jambick may be made perfectly of Jambuses, because that Verse passing exceeding swift, though it consists of six Feet, seems to have but three. Wherefore the too great equality of Measures in so small a number, cannot be troublesome, as is evident in this verse.  Suis & ipsa Roma viribus ruit. 
The measures in an Hexameter are large, but very sensible: so if their equality be not accompanied with variety, the Verse is disagreeable.  
Lyric Verse is composed commonly of several sorts of Feet; because that Verse being designed to be Sung in Music, the Harmony would not be pleasing, if the difference of Feet, did not afford occasion to the Musicians to diversify their Voices.  
The alliance of Variety and Equality is manifest in Latin Poesy. It is evident, for example, that in a Dactyle equality and variety is to be found; Equality, because the time of two short Syllables is equivalent to the long; and Variety, because as we have said, the Ear distinguishes very well of the difference betwixt one long Syllable and two short. Though the Verses be composed of different Feet, yet all those different feet are equal, because the time of their pronunciation is equal.   

VI  
How the Romans made the Alliance of the Equality and Variety of their Verse distinguishable.  
THe Latins joined their measures in Verse, by Sections or Retrenchment, of certain Syllables, of the precedent word, to make a foot, with the Syllables in the beginning of the following word; as for example.  Ille meas errare boves, etc. 
The Syllable as in meas, is a Section; The Syllable as with the Syllable er in the following word errare making a Spondaeus. This Section is it that incorporates the measures, and presents them together to the ear; for the voice not being used to stop in the middle of a word, and divide it, pronounces the following word swiftly, after it has once begun it. But this Section makes the feet to end and begin in the middle of a word; so the Voice that reposes not in those places, joining the Syllables of each word, joins the feet at the same time, and links them one within the other. This observation may be more visible by cutting the two following Verses into such Sections.  
Ille me— as oer— rare bo—ves ut— ●ernis &— ipsum  
Ludere— quae vel— lem cala— more per— misit a— gresti.  
The Voice distinguishes each of these Measures (as is said before) by an Elevation at the beginning, and a relaxation at the end; but it binds also these Measures by these Sections. When the Voice has pronounced the Syllable me in meas, it pronounces as next, which makes part of the following Foot, and so joins the first and the following Measure together. The Second Measure is joined with the Third, for the Voice not stopping in the middle of the word, Errare, goes on without interruption, (after having said oer) to the pronunciation of the end rare, by which means the Ear receives them united and joined together. The third measure is joined in the same manner with the Fourth. Verse without Sections do not appear to be Verse, because (as we have said) the Equality of Measures that makes the beauty of a Verse, is not distinguishable, unless they be joined, and the Ear sensible of their Conjunction. We may read the following words, and not observe that they make a Verse, because they want the aforesaid Section.  Vrbem ‑ fortem ‑ cepit ‑ nuper ‑ fortior ‑ hostis. 
It remains now only that I speak of the number of Measures required in the composition of Verse. It is clear a Verse requires at least two Measures. We have shown that it is the equality of these Measures that pleases the Ear, when the said Measures being presented to it, it perceives the equality by comparing them one with another: But, as has been often said, all comparison presupposes at least two terms. If the number of these Measures be too great, it is plain the Ear that ought to consider them all together, will be overlayed and oppressed with the greatness of their number. Wherefore a Verse is never composed of above six great Measures, such as the Sponde's and the Dactyls. An Jambick is capable of eight Feet, because as aforesaid, the Foot which denominates that Verse, passes very quick, and eight of those measures make but Four of the Greater.   

VII.  
Of the French Poetry.  
THe French distinguish the measures of their Verse after another manner than the Romans. The French elevate the Voice at the beginning of the Sentence, and abate it only at the end of a Sentence; wherefore if a measure in French Poesy should begin in the middle of one word, and conclude in the middle of another word, the Voice could not distinguish by any inflexion, the said measure as it does in Latin. To put distinction therefore betwixt the measures, and that the Ear may perceive that distinction by Elevation of the Voice at the beginning, and depression at the end, each measure ought to contain a perfect sense; which makes the measure large, and so as a French Verse is seldom composed of above two Measures, which parts it in two equal parts, of which the first is called Hemistick. So the measures of the French Verse are distinguished after a natural way, for naturally and without any art we raise the Voice at the beginning of an expression with a complete sense, and we let the Voice fall naturally at the end of a complete sense. The Equality of the measures depends upon an equal number of Vowels; in the French Language all the Vowels are pronounced with equal time: It is evident, if two Expressions have an equal number of Vowels, the times of their pronunciations are equal.  
The equality of two measures of which every Verse is composed, can give but an indifferent pleasure, so we commonly join two Verses together which make four Measures: This conjunction is made by the union of the same sense. To render this Conjunction the more sensible, the Verses which comprehend the same sense, are made to Rhyme, that is, to end both in the same manner. Nothing is more perceptible to the Ear, than the sound of words: So Rhyme that is nothing but repetition of the same sound, is very proper for the better distinction of the measures of Verse. When upon the declension of the Empire, they began to give the same quantity to all the Vowels, the Poets troubled themselves no farther than for Rhyme, and to equal the expressions which they ended by those Rhymes. This way of making Verses is very simple, and quickly tiresome, unless we be careful to occupy the mind of the Reader by the richness and variety of our thoughts, so as it may not be sensible of their simplicity.  
I shall show in few words the Fundamentals of the French Poetry, and to render what I have said the more intelligible, apply the same to the two following Verses.  
Je chante cette guerre  
Ou Pharsale jugeae.  
En cruaute fecund,  
the l'Empire du Monde.  
The Ear perceives only two Measures in each of these Verses, and distinguishes them by raising of the Voice in the beginning, and the depression of it at the end of each of the Measures, which contain a perfect sense. The Four Measures of these two Verses are bound together by the union of the same sense, and by the Rhyme. Besides the equality of time, we may observe that the equality of the repose of the Voice (which is reposed in pronouncing our Verse by equal Intervals) contributes much to their beauty: I speak not of the different works in Verse, Alexandrin's Sonnets, Stanzas, etc. Those Verses differ among themselves only by the number of their Syllables: Some are composed of longer, some of shorter, measures. In some the Rhymes are intermixed.  
As among the Latins works are composed of different sorts of Verse, so among the French they couple short Verse and long Verse together. The Art that is used in these kind of Works has nothing in it difficult enough to deserve our explanation.  
It is not sufficient to give a Verse its just measure; to have regard to the quantity or time of every Vowel, or to the number of the same Vowels; Their Concourse, and the Concourse of Consonants with which they are found, augment or lessen their Measures. Betwixt words of the same quantity, or words that contain an equal number of Vowels, some are ruff, some sweet, some fluent, others languishing; wherefore to render the measures of a Verse equal, (whether it be in Latin, or whether it be in French,) we ought to have near as much care to the Consonants as to the Vowels.    

CHAP. V.  

I.  
There is a strange sympathy betwixt the Soul and Numbers; and what Numbers are.  
WE have seen that a Discourse is agreeable when the times of the Pronunciation of Syllables which compose it are measured by exact measures; That the time, (for example) of a Syllable is exactly either the double or treble time of another Syllable. The exactest measures are those which are expressed by numbers. In Geometry all exact Reasons are called Rationes numeri ad numerum: and therefore the Masters in the Art of Speaking have thought good to call Numeros whatever the Ear perceives of proportion in the pronunciation of a Sentence, whether it be the proportion of the measure of Time, or a just distribution of the Intervals of Respiration. Cicero de Orat. lib. 3. tells us, Numerosum est id in omnibus sonis atque Vocibus, quod habet quasdam impressiones, & quod metiri possumus intervallis aequalibus. And Numerosa Oratio in Latin, is the same as an elegant or harmonious Discourse with us. The Cadence of a studied Discourse is likewise called a number. Saint Augustin observes that our Souls have a sympathy and alliance with these numbers; and that the different motions of the mind do correspond and follow certain Tones of the Voice, to which the Soul has a secret inclination. Mira animi nostri cum numeris cognatio: Omnes affectus Spiritus nostri pro sui diversitate habent pro prios modos in voce, quorum nescio qua occulta familiaritate connectantur. Longinus that excellent Critic, tells us that these numbers are instruments very proper to provoke or agitate our Passions.  
To search into the Causes of this marvellous sympathy betwixt Numbers and our Soul, and how they come to that power and efficacy upon our passions, we must know that the motions of the mind, do follow the motions of the Animal Spirits; as those Spirits are slow or quick, calm or turbulent, the mind is affected with different Passions: The least force is able to obstruct or excite the Animal Spirits, their resistance is but small; and their Levity is the cause that the least unusual motion determines them; the least motion of a sound puts them in agitation. Our Body is so disposed, that a ruff and boisterous sound forcing our Spirits into the Muscles, disposes it to flight, and begets an aversion, in the same manner as a frightful Object begets horror by the eye. On the other side a soft and moderate sound, attracts and invites our attention. If we speak loud or hastily to a Beast, it will run from us; by speaking gently, we allure and make it tame. From whence we may collect that diversity of Sounds do produce diversity of motions in the Animal Spirits.  
Every motion that is made in the Organs of Sense, and communicated to the Animal Spirits, is connext by the God of Nature, to some certain motion of the Soul; Sound can excite passions, and we may say, that every passion answers to some sound or other; which is it, that excites in the Animal Spirits, the motion wherewith it is allied. This Connexion is the cause of our Sympathy with Numbers, and that naturally, according to the Tone of the Speaker, our Resentment is different. If a Tone be languishing and doleful, it inspires sadness; if it be loud and brisk, it begets vivacity and courage; some Airs are gay, and others Melancholy.  
To discover the particular Causes of this Sympathy, and explain how among the numbers, some produce sadness, some joy, we should consider the different motion of the Animal Spirits in each of our Passions. It is easy to be conceived, that if the impression of such a sound in the Organs of hearing is followed by a motion in the Animal Spirits like that which they have in a fit of Anger, (that is, if they be acted violently and with inequality) it may raise Choler, and continue it. On the contrary, if the impression be doleful and melancholy, if the commotion it causes in the Animal Spirits be feeble and languishing, and in the same temper as commonly in Melancholy, what we have said ought not to seem strange; especially if we reflect upon what has been derived to us from many eminent Authors, relating to the strange effects of Music. Some have affirmed there were persons who played so excellently upon the Flute, that they knew how to accommodate their Airs to all kinds of Malady's, how to ease those who were in pain, delight those who were sad, and recover those who were sick.   

II.  
When Numbers agree with the things that are expressed, the Discourse becomes more significative and lively.  
IT is not to be doubted but sounds are significative, and of power to renew the Ideas of several things: The sound of a Trumpet, does it not put us in mind, and provoke us to Combat? Upon this score Cicero speaking of Thucydides that excellent Historian, tells us, that when he describes a Battle, he does it with that Emphasis and Elevation of Style, that makes us think ourselves present, and that we heard the Trumpet indeed. De Bellicis scribens, concitatiori numero videtur bellicum canere. When we hear the noise of the Sea, we imagine it presently, though perhaps it is out of our sight: When we hear a man speak that we know, his image presents itself to our mind, before we see him with our eyes. In a word, the Ideas of things have a secret Alliance and Connexion among themselves, and do excite one another. It is not to be questioned, but certain sounds, certain Numbers, and certain Cadences, do contribute to awake the Images of things with which they have had alliance and connexion. Virgil is very happy in giving Cadence to his Verse, that alone is sufficient to excite the Ideas of the things he would signify. Who is it that reading these words 
— Et altos  
Conscendit furibunda Rogos.—  would not conceive by the quickness and elevation of the Cadence, the precipitation wherewith Dido (the person meant in that place) threw herself upon the Pyle which she had prepared to burn herself. When I read this description of Sleep, 
Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris  
Incipit, & dono divum gratissima serpit;   
Methinks it lulls me, and the smooth sliding of the Verse gives me an Idea of sleep, that slides gently in my fancy without being perceived. In this Speech of Sinon the Impostor, this doleful number 
Heu! quae nunc tellus, inquit, quae me aequora possunt  
Accipere, aut quid jam Misero mihi denique restat?  Is enough to excite compassion in the Trojans. Often-times the manner of delivering a thing, the posture, the habits, are more Eloquent and Emphatical than the words. A neglected habit, a dejected posture, a sorrowful look, prevails more than argument, or entreaty. So the Cadence of Words is many times of more force than the words themselves. In short, we cannot doubt of the efficacy of the Tone. A bold Tone begets an Impression of Fear. A sorrowful Tone disposes to compassion. Discourse loseth much of its force when not sustained with advantages of action and voice: It is an Instrument that receives its virtue from the hand that manages it. Words upon Paper, is like a dead body upon the ground: In the mouth of the Speaker, they are lively and vigorous. A Cadence suitable to the things of which we discourse, keeps it (as it were) alive, by preserving the Tone with which it ought to be pronounced.   

III.  
The way of joining our Discourse by Numbers that correspond to the things signified.  
PLato pretends that the Names of things were not given by chance, and that Reason has greater share in the establishment of Language, than Fancy and Caprice. To justify this Opinion, he demonstrates by several Examples that the first roots from whence the other words were derived, were made of Letters, whose sound expressed after a manner, the thing signified. It would be hard to defend this Opinion of Plato in all the Radixes, but yet without doubt in all Languages there are words whose sounds are significative; and the beauty of their Names consists in their correspondence with the thing that they signify, either by the agreeableness of the Cadence, as in the word Boar: or because it is derived from another name that signifies something which resembles it.  
He who would join his Discourse by numbers conformable to his sense; needs no more than to consult his Ears, and learn from them what is the proper sound of every Letter, Vowel, Consonant, Syllable, and with what thing that sound can most properly agree. Some Authors have been very industrious in observing these practices: For example, 'tis observed the Consonant F expresses the Wind, Cum flamma furentibus Austris.  
The Consonant S expresses a Currant of Water or Blood, — Et plenos Sanguine Rivot.  
In like manner it expresses a Tempest, Luctantes Ventos, tempestatesque sonoras.  
The Letter L agrees with soft soft things, 
Mollia luteola pingit vaccinia caltha:  
— Est mollisflamma Medullas.   
Virgil uses several M's very happily to express an obstreperous confused noise.  
— Magno cum murmere Montis  
Circum Claustra fremunt.  
Among the Vowels, some have a clear and strong sound; others are weak and obscure: and we may compose our Discourse as we please of such as are proper for our design, when we have a mind our Cadence should be weak or strong, clear or obscure.  
Particular regard must be had to the measures of time. Among those Measures the Spondaeus marches gravely; The Dactylus rowls off something faster; the Jambus goes faster than that; and the Trochaeus seems to run, and takes its name from a Greek word of that signification. The Anapoestus, in opposition to the Dactylus rolling on pretty fast in the beginning, at the latter end, seems to knock or dash against something that repels it; from whence that also has its name, and is as much as Repercussion. The effects of these measures are all different. He who would accommodat the Cadence of his words to the things of which he treats, aught to select those feet which are most conformable to them. Virgil makes use of Dactyls to express the swiftness of an action, 
— Illi equore aperto  
Ante notos Zephirumque volant: gemit ultima pulsu  
Thraca pedum.—  
Ferte cite ferrum, date tela, scandite Muros.   
On the contrary he waves them, and makes use of Sponde's when Gravity agrees better with his expression. 
— Magnum Jovis incrementum.  
Tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem.  
Illi inter se magna vi brachia tollunt.   
Cecero reports that Pythagoras finding a company of young Bully's forcing violently into a civil House, made them quit their ruinous design by commanding the young Wench that was singing to put Sponde's into her Song. Pythagoras, concitatos ad vim pudicae domui inferendam, juvenes, jussa mutare in spondeum modos tibicina, compescuit. The Spondeus and the Dactylus are the two largest feet, therefore Hexameters of all Verse are the most Majestic, and the Sponde at the end makes us pronounce it strong, by sustaining our Voice. The Anapaestus which is at the end of the Pentameter, causes the Voice to fall; and therefore Pentameters are used to express complaints and suchlike, where the Voice is falling perpetually, and its course often interrupted. The Pentametre and Hexametre are joined, that the weakness of the one may be supported by the strength of the other. The Jambus is a foot so fleet, that the Cadence of a Verse composed of them, is often unperceivable: It passes with such swiftness that that kind of Verse is scarce distinguishable from prose: For which reason the Jambus is used commonly in Plays, and pieces for the Stage, where it is requisite the style be natural, and little differing from Prose.  
'Tis an easy matter to render the Cadence of a Discourse smooth or ruff: To make it smooth we must avoid the concourse of Vowels, which causes chasmes and void places in our Discourse, and hinders its equality and union. The Concourse of Vowels, and the Concourse of Consonants (particularly of those which are sharp, and those which do not accord) do make a Discourse rough and uneven. A rough Discourse agrees witn things that are ruff and unpleasant, Rebus atrocibus conveniunt verba auditu aspera. To describe great things, we must make use of big words, words that make a noise, and fill the mouth. The Cadence of a mean Discourse ought to be neglected, and languishing; for this cause it is requisite that all the terms of which it makes use, should have a feeble weak Sound.  
The longer the Period's are, the stronger is the action of the Voice: when it concerns us to speak sorrowfully, our expressions ought to be short and abrupt. If the action be vehement; if we be to add weight to our words (as those who would make themselves formidable, do commonly make a great noise) we must make use of long periods, which cannot be pronounced but with a tone more than ordinarily strong.  
But no more of this; it would be loss of time to give particular Rules for each number. It is not to be acquired but by long habit, and strong application, which animates and emboldens us in our Compositions; and it is naturally that we make choice of rough or smooth terms according to the things we would express. I would not have an Author perplex himself to find out a significative Cadence, as he would do to find out a leak in a Ship. I confess freely, 'tis by accident when he succeeds; 'Tis sometimes impossible, and we ought not to engage rashly in a thing where the success is subject to many accidents.  
In appearance the greatest part of Poets were ignorant of this accord betwixt numbers and things. They aimed at nothing in their Verse but a certain softness that flagged and grew languid by degrees. With them the joyful and the afflicted; the Master and the Man, spoke in the same tone: A Clown spoke as quaintly as a Courtier, and yet those Poets have their admirers, who think they favour Virgil exceedingly, when they repeat any of the rough and uneven Verses wherewith he sometimes expressed mean things, and say he did it on purpose to make the softness and gentleness of the other more sensible. They do not relish the excellent Cadence of this Verse, where he describes the faint weak stroke that old Priamus gave to Neoptolomeus, which is weak and feeble as it ought to be: 
Sic fatus Senior, telumque imbelle si●●ne ictu  
Conjecit.   
I am ashamed to use the authority of two such great Masters, to evince a truth that has so little need of proof: Yet Cicero and Quintilian both do highly commend those who have that felicity of accommodating their numbers and their sense. Historians, Poets, and Orators, have studiously endeavoured for this Beauty. Ulpian in his Commentaries upon the Orations of Demosthenes, observes that as oft as that Prince of the Greek Orators spoke of King Philip's progress, he stops the pronunciation of his Discourse, and intersperses several little particles to signify how slowly King Philip advanced in his Conquests. Quoties tardos Philippi progressus voluit ostendere, tardam, multis interjectis particulis, orationem faciebat.  
As for Virgil, it is in that he may be said to be unimitable, and that no Poet has hitherto come near him. We We need not produce our Examples, for any one may find them in his Book: and yet to better our Observation of the excellence of that Poet, I shall represent some few of the best places that offer themselves to my Memory. In the first of his Aenead's, where he brings in Neptune speaking, he gives him words with a Cadence exalted, and suiting well with the Majesty of the Speaker.  
Tantane vos tenuit generis fiducia vestri?  
Jam Caelum, terramque meo sine Numine venti  
Miscere, & tantas audetis tollere Moles.  
Mark the pomp of these three following Verses wherewith he flatters the Emperor.  
Nascetur pulchra Trojanus Origine Caesar,  
Imperium Oceano, famam qui terminet astris.  
No man can read his description of Polyphemus, that horrible and deformed Giant, without impressions of horror and fear.  
Monstrum, horrendum, inform, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.  
As also this following:  
Tela inter media, atque horrentes Marte Latino's.  
The Cadence of this Verse— Procumbit humi bos, imitates the fall of that great Beast. This Verse, Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum, expresses the ardour and fury of a high-metled Horse. Could Sadness be better expressed than by this so often interrupted Cadence.  
O Pater, O hominum, divumque aeternae Potestas,  
O lux Dardaniae, O spes fidissima Teucrum,  
The following Verses are full of the sorrow of a person in affliction for the loss of his Friend,— Te amice requivi Conspicere, etc.  Implerunt rupes, flerunt Rhodopeiae arces. 
Dionysius Halicarnassaeus, a Writer of the Roman Antiquities, and several Treatises of Rhetoric, shows that Homer frequently used that Connexion, and chose his numbers proper to his matter; he instances in several Verses, and reflects upon them with great judgement and elegance. He tells us, that in his Verse Homer had a way of making his Vowels clash and interfere, to stop the course of our pronunciation. To express the length of the time that Sisyphus employed in his labour, he uses Syllables that have their Stops and Notches, to signify thereby the resistance of every Stone, by reason of their own natural weights, and their dashing against every other stone: And in short, that we might not think it mere chance that his numbers answered to his matter, he shows how the Cadence is quite different from the next Verse, where he describes the fall of Sisyphus his Stone, how it tumbles from the top to the bottom, after it had been carried up with so much difficulty and pain. The Cadence is very swift; and the words seem to roll and tumble with the same precipitation as the Stone.  
It is not to be imagined that writing of all sorts of things, it is necessary the sounds of our words should be so expressive. This exactness is not necessary every where, but only where our judgement is most obvious, and where our design to work upon our Auditors is greatest. Besides, this Cadence must be natural; we must not subvert the Order of Nature, transpose words, retrench a good expression, insert an ill; to give a just Cadence to our Discourse. How precious soever a Discourse may be, whose numbers express the things as well as the words; yet great care is to be taken that we do not prefer that beauty to the more solid justness of Argument, and greatness of thought. Our mind cannot attend two different things at one time, and therefore it happens often that whilst we are busy in contenting our Senses, we displease our Reason. Sense is the Noblest part of Discourse, indeed it's very soul; and that Soul is it which deserves our principal care.     

THE FOURTH PART OF THE Art of Speaking.  

CHAP. I.  

I.  
We must make choice of a Style suitable to the Matter of which we treat. What Style is.  
WE have observed that Words do not give the same Idea of things that they signify, and that to make us understand the form of our Thoughts, we ought to use among our Terms such as represent their true lineaments, and their natural colours, that is to say, such as awaken in the minds of other people, the same Ideas, and the same Sentiments as we have in ours. In this Fourth part we shall make it appear, that according to the difference of the matter, we must make use of a peculiar manner of Writing; and that as every thing requires convenient words, so an entire subject requires a style that may be proportionable to it. The Rules we have given for Elocution, regard no farther than (if we may so say) the members of Discourse; that of which we are now speaking relates to the whole body.  
Style, in its primitive signification, is taken for a kind of Bodkin wherewith the Ancients writ upon Bark, and little Tables covered with Wax: To say who is the Author of such a Writing, we say 'tis such a man's hand, whereas the Ancients said it was such a man's Style. In process of time, the word Style came to be applied only to the manner of expressing: When we say such a discourse is Cicero's Style, we intent Cicero used to express himself in that manner. Before I determine with what style we are to treat of several things that are the subjects of common Discourse, what ought to be the Style of an Orator, an Historian, or Poet, who would delight, or instruct; I thought it not impertinent to inquire into the different Expressions wherewith several Authors express themselves in the same Language, and who writing on the same Subjects endeavour the same Style. Some are diffuse, and though they pretend to be succinct, half their words may be retrenched without prejudice to the sense: Others are dry, flat, barren, and what Effort soever they may make to beautify and adorn things, they leave them half-naked: The Style of some is strong; in others it is weak and languishing; in some it is rugged, in others it is smooth: In a word, as faces are different, so are the ways of Writing, and it is the cause of this Difference of which we are going to inquire.   

II.  
The Qualities of the Style depend upon the Qualities of the Imagination, Memory, and Judgement of the Writer.  
WHen the outward Object strikes upon our Sense, the motion it makes is communicated by the Nerves to the very Centre of the Brain, whose substance being soft, receives thereby certain prints and impressions: The Alliance or Connexion betwixt the Mind and the Body, is the cause that the Ideas of Corporal things are annexed to these Prints; so that when the Prints of an Object, (for Example of the Sun) are imprinted in the brain, the Idea of the Sun presents itself to the mind; and as oft as the Idea of the Sun is presented to the Mind, the Impressions caused by the presence of the Sun, begin to open and dilate. We may call those Prints the Images of the Objects. The power the Soul has to form upon the Brain the Images of things that have been perceived, is called Imagination, which word signifies both that power of the Soul, and the Images that it forms.  
The Qualities of a good Imagination are very necessary to Well-speaking; for Discourse is nothing but a Copy of those things of which we are to speak, formed before by the Soul. If the Original be confused, the Copy must be so also; if the Original be not, the Copy cannot be like. The form, the clearness, the good Order of our Ideas, depend upon the clearness and distinction of the Impressions which the Objects make upon our Brain; so that it cannot be doubted but the Quality of the Style must depend upon the quality of the Imagination. The substance of the Brain has not the same qualities in all heads, and therefore we are not to wonder if the ways of Speaking be different in each Author.  
Words read or heard leave their Impressions in the Brain, as well as other Objects, so as we commonly think of Words and Things at the same time; the Impressions of Words and Things which have been opened in Company at several times, are linked together in such sort that the Things represent themselves to the mind with their Names: when this falls out, we say the Memory is happy, and its Felicity consists only in the easiness wherewith the prints of words, and the things to which they are linked, do open themselves at the same time; that is to say, when the name of the thing follows the thought we have of it. When the Memory is unfaithful in representing the proper Terms of the things committed to it, we cannot speak justly; we are forced either to say nothing, or make use of the first words that occur, though perhaps they are not proper to express what we would say. Happy and just Expression is the effect of good Memory.  
In short, it is manifest the Qualities of the Mind are the cause of the Difference observed among all Authors. Discourse is the Image of the Mind; we show our Humours and Inclinations in our Words before we think of it. The Minds then being different, what wonder if the Style of every Author has a character that distinguishes it from all others, though all use the same Terms and Expressions in the same Language.   

III.  
The advantage of a Good Imagination.  
A Good Imagination contributes particularly to the clearness and facility of Discourse 'Tis easy to speak of things that we see, their presence guides and regulates our Discourse; but Imagination supplies us with things. A Man whose Imagination is easy, represents to himself whatever he is to say: he sees clearly before the eyes of his mind; so that expressing by his words, the things as present to him, his Discourse is clear, and the things do range and take their places of themselves in his Discourse. In the Imagination there are two things; the first is Material, the second Spiritual; the Material is the prints caused by the impressions the Objects make upon the sense. The Spiritual is the Perception or Knowledge the Soul has of these prints, and the power we have to renew or open them when once they are made. We shall inquire here only into the material part. I cannot explain exactly these prints without engaging myself in Philosophical Disquisitions remote from my Subject: I shall only say these prints are made by the Animal Spirits, which being the purest and most subtle part of the Blood, fly up like a Vapour from the Heart to the Brain: These Spirits are uncertain in their course. When a Nerve is stretched, they follow its motion, and by their Current they draw several Figures in the Brain, according as the Nerves are differently stretched or contracted; but which way soever these Figures are made, it is plain, the clearness of the Imagination depends upon the temperament of the substance of the Brain, and the quality of the Animal Spirits.   

IV.  
The Qualities of the Substance of the Brain, and the Animal Spirits, are necessary to make a good Imagination.  
Figure's drawn upon the Surface of the Water leave no prints, because they are immediately filled up. Figures engraved upon Marble are seldom perfect, because the hardness of the Matter gives too much resistance to the Chissel. This gives us to understand that the substance of the Brain ought to have certain Qualities, without which it cannot receive exactly the Images of such things as the Soul imagines. If the Brain be too moist, and the little Threads and Fibers which compose it too feeble and lax, they cannot retain the Foldings and Impressions given them by the Animal Spirits, and by consequence the things drawn there are confused, and like those we endeavour to draw upon Mud: If the Brain be too dry, and the Fibers too hard, 'tis impossible all the strokes of the Objects should leave their Impressions, which makes every thing seem dry and meager to men of that Temper. I speak not of the other Qualities of the Brain, of its heat or its coldness: when it is hot, the Spirits move with more ease; when it is cold, the Spirits are slow and retarded in their course, the Imagination is dull, and nothing to be imagined but with trouble.  
The Animal Spirits ought to have three qualities; they ought to be plentiful, hot, and equal in their motion: A brain whose Animal Spirits are exhausted, is empty of Images. Plenty of Spirits makes the Imagination fruitful: The prints drawn by the Spirits in their course being large, whilst the source that produces them is full, they represent all things easily, and under multitude of Figures which supply us amply with matter for discourse; those who have not this Fertility supplied to them by abundance of Spirits, are commonly dry. Things imprinting themselves but weakly upon their Imagination, they appear little and meager, and dry; so their Discourse expressing nothing but what passes in their Imagination, is dry and meager and jejune. The first are great Praters; they speak nothing but Hyperboles, every thing appears great to them: The others are low, mean, and insipid in their discourse. The Imagination of the first makes every thing greater; the Imagination of the last lessens them as much.  
When there is heat enough, and the Animal Spirits are warm, quick, and in great quantity, the Tongue is not sufficiently nimble to express all that is represented in the Imagination; for besides that abundance (which is the first quality requisite to the Spirits) forming the Images of things in their full dimensions; the second Quality, (which is heat) rendering the Animal Spirits lively and quick, the Imagination is full in an instant of differing Images. Those who possess these two Qualities, do immediately without thinking find more matter upon any subject proposed than others after long Meditation. A cold Spirit cannot move the Imagination without helps. Experience tells us, that want of Heat is a great Obstruction to Eloquence: In violent passion where the Animal Spirits are extraordinarily stirred, the driest Tempered Men deliver themselves with ease, the most barren want no words. And this Diversity of Images in the Imagination, causes a pleasant variety of Figures and Motions that follow those of the Imagination.  
That the Imagination be clear and unconfused, the motion of the Animal Spirits ought to be equal. When their course is irregular, sometimes slow, and sometimes swift, the Images that they imprint are without proportion; as in sick People, where the motion of the whole Mass of Blood is irregular. Those who are Gay and of a Sanguine Complexion, express themselves gracefully and readily. In those Tempers the Animal Spirits move quick and equal, and their Imagination being clear, their Discourse being but a Copy of the Images drawn in it, must necessarily be clear and distinct.   

V.  
The Advantages of a good Memory.  
THe goodness of the Memory depends upon Nature and Exercise, seeing it consists only in the easiness wherewith the prints of received Objects are renewed; by Consequence the Memory cannot be good, if the substance of the Brain be not proper to receive those draughts, or prints of things, and retain them; and when those prints (which cannot always be expanded and open) do not open themselves with ease. Exercise adds much to the Memory; Things fold easily that way that they are often folded. The Fibers of the Brain do harden and grow stiff, if that stifness be not prevented by frequent folding them, that is to say, by often repeating what we have learned already, and continual endeavours to suck in more. We must fill our Memories with proper terms, and contrive that the Images of things and their names be of so strict coherence, that the images and expressions may present themselves together. An excellent Person has resembled the Memory to a Printing-Press; a Printer who has none but Gothick Characters, prints nothing but in Gothick Characters, let the Treatise be never so good. The same may be said of those whose Memories are full of nothing but improper words; having nothing in their minds but Gothick Moulds, and their thoughts clothing themselves with Expressions from thence, no wonder if they always assume a Gothick air and fashion.   

VI  
Qualities of the Mind necessary to make a Man Eloquent.  
WHat we have hitherto said, relates only to the Corporal Organs: The qualities of the Mind are more considerable and important. Reason must regulate the advantages of Nature, which are rather Defects than advantages when we understand not how to use them. He that has a fertile Imagination, but knows not how to cull and pick his Expressisions, loses himself, and runs out into long and tedious Discourses. Among the multitude of things that he delivers, half of them are improper; and those which are good, are stifled and incommoded by these that are impertinent. If his Imagination be hot as well as fertile, and he follows the motion of his heat, he falls into thousands of other faults; his Discourse is nothing but a continuation of Figures; he seldom speaks without passion, but for the most part without reason. Being hasty and hot, the least thing excites him, and sets him on fire; without respect to Civility, without considering the merits of the Cause, he fly's out into a fury, and suffers himself to be hurried away by the impetus of his Imagination, whose irregularity and extravagance is discovered in his words.  
To enjoy the Sovereign Perfection of Eloquence, the mind must be adorned with these three Qualities: First, a capacity to discover abundantly all that may be said upon any proposed subject. A narrow Apprehension is incapable of giving things their just latitude and extent.  
The second quality consists in a certain sagacious Vivacity, that strikes immediately into things, rummages them to the bottom, and cleanses every corner: those whose minds are heavy and dull, do not penetrate into the Folds or Intricacies of an Affair, and therefore can only scum off what they find at the top.  
The Third quality is exactness of Judgement, and that regulates both the other qualities. A good Judgement chooses and picks, it stops not at every thing presented by the Imagination, but discerns and discriminates betwixt what is fit to be said, and what is fit to be passed: it dilates not upon things according to the bigness of their Images, but amplifies discourse, or contracts it, as the thing and reason require; it relys not upon first Ideas, but judges whether things are as great as they appear, and selects convenient expressions according to the light of Reason rather than the report of Imagination, which like magnifying Glasses do many times represent things greater than they are: It stops the Ideas where they are too light; it excites and chafes them when they are cold: in a word, it uses and improves many advantages that Nature has given it; it prevents Faults, and endeavours to correct them.  
The good Qualities of the Mind are not always concomitant with the qualities of a good Imagination, and happy Memory; which causes a great difference betwixt Speaking and Writing well. Oftentimes those who write well upon premeditation speak ill Ex tempore: To write well there is no need of a prompt, hot, and fertile Imagination. Unless our Wit be very bad indeed, upon serious Meditation we shall find what we ought, and what we might say upon any subject proposed; those who speak easily and without premeditation, receive that advantage from a certain fertility and fire in their Imagination, which fire is extinguished by repose and cold contemplation in a Study.  
The Qualities of the Mind are preferable to the qualities of the Body; the Eloquence of those endued with these last Qualities is like a flash of Gunpowder, gone in a moment; this Eloquence makes a great noise, and flashes for a time, but 'tis quickly spent and forgot. A Treatise composed with Judgement retains its Beauty, and the oftener it is read, the more it is admired. This is observed by Tacitus in the Fourth Book of his Annals, where he speaks of one Halerius a Famous Orator whilst he lived, but when dead, his Writings were not so much admired; his Talon lay in speaking well Ex tempore, not in Writing, having more flame in his Imagination than judgement in his Mind. A work that is solid and elaborate (says Tacitus with reflection upon the Eloquence of Halerius) lives, and is esteemed after the death of the Author; whereas the softness and flashiness of Halerius his Eloquence expipired with him. Quintus Halerius, Eloquentiae quoad vixit celebratae, monimenta ingenii ejus haud perinde retinentur. Scilicet impetu magis quam cura vigebat: utque meditatio aliorum & labour, in posterum valescit, sic Halerii canorum illud, & profluens, cum ipso simul extinctum est.   

VII.  
Diversity of Inclinations alter the Styles: Every Climate, every Age, hath its Style.  
DIscourse is the Character of the Mind; our Humour describes itself in our words, and every man incogitantly follows the style to which his disposition naturally carries him▪ We know not only the Humour of a man by his Style, but also his Country: Every Climate hath its style. The asiatics whose Imaginations are warm and full of Images, speak nothing but by Allegories, Similitudes, and Metaphors; by which means their Style is obscure to those whose Imaginations are not so lively and prompt. The Northern people have not that heat, and therefore speak more plain and intelligibly.  
Ancient Rhetoricians distinguish into three Forms the different Styles recommended to the people by their different Inclinations. The first form is the Asiatic, high, pompous, and magnificent. The people of Asia have been always ambitious, their Discourse expresses their Humour; they are lovers of Luxury, and their words are accompanied with several vain Ornaments, that a severe Humour cannot approve. The second form of Style is the Attic: the Athenians were more regular in their Lives, and therefore were more exact and modest in their Discourse. The Third is the Rhodian Style; the Rhodians had a touch of the Ambition and Luxury of the asiatics, and the modesty of the Athenians; their style characterizes their Humour, and keeps a medium betwixt the liberty of the Asiatic, and the reservedness and retention of the Attic.  
Diversity of Styles proceeds again from another Cause, that is to say, from the precogitancy or pre-occupation wherewith we speak or write; when we have taken a fancy to any way of Writing, we make it our model, and endeavour to imitate it. A Style a-la-mode is followed by the whole world; but as we change our Modes, and those who invented them, finding them common, contrive new, to distinguish themselves from the people, there is a perpetual change, and every Age has its peculiar Mode. A good Critic guesses the time when an Author writ, by observing his way: The Style of each Age gives us to understand the Inclinations of those who lived in that Age. Commonly the Style is dry, rugged, without Ornament in those Ages where the people were serious and regular. Luxury was introduced during the Licentiousness of Governments, in Languages as well as Habits, in Books as well as Buildings.    

CHAP. II.  

I.  
The Matter of which we treat, aught to determine us in the choice of our S●yle.  
THe Matter is to direct in the election of our Style. Noble Expressions that render a Style Magnificent; great words that fill up the mouth, represent things great, and argue strength of judgement in the person who speaks in so sublime a way: But if the matter itself be unworthy, if it be great only in the Imagination of the Author, his Magnificence turns to his prejudice, and shows the weakness of his judgement, in putting a value upon that is only worthy of Contempt. Figures, and Tropes, unknown to the natural order of Discourse, discover likewise the motion of the heart; but that these Figures may be just, the passion, of which they are the character, aught to be reasonable. There is nothing comes nearer Folly, than to be transported without Cause; to put one's self into a heat for a thing that ought to be argued coolly; each Motion has its Figures: Figures may enrich and embellish a Style, but unless the Motion that causes them be laudable, the Figures cannot be worthy of Commendation.  
I say then, 'tis the Matter that regulates the Style: When things are great, and cannot be considered without great Emotion, it is necessary that the Style which describes them be sprightly, full of motion, and enriched with Figures, and Tropes, and Metaphors. If in the subject of which we treat there be nothing extraordinary: if we can consider it without passion; the Style is to be plain. The Art of Speaking having no peculiar matter, every thing subject to our thoughts being matter for Discourse, there are infinite diversity of Styles, as the sorts of things of which we may speak are infinite: Yet the Masters of that Art have reduced the peculiar matter for Writing under three kinds; Sublime, Mean, or Indifferent. There are three Kind's of Styles answerable to these three Kind's of Matters; the Lofty, the Plain, and the Moderate. Sometimes these Styles are called Characters, because they denote the quality of the matter that is the subject of the discourse. I shall in this Chapter huddle together the Rules to be observed in each of these three Characters. When a Work is undertaken, we always propose a general Idea; for example, when an Orator makes a Panegyric upon some Prince, the design is to magnify and illustrate the actions of that Hero, to advance him to such an Elevation of Glory, that he may be looked upon as the most accomplished and most venerable person of his Sex. An Advocate pleading the cause of a Pauper, will be contented if he persuades his Auditory that the person whose defence he has undertaken is a good man, an innocent man, and one that behaves himself in his sphere like a very good Citizen. That which I shall say of these three Characters, relates to our prudence in carrying on our Work, so as we never suffer the general Idea we have proposed to ourselves to be out of sight.   

II.  
Rules for the Lofty Style.  
Apelles' being to draw the Picture of his Friend Antigonus, who had lost his left eye in the Wars, drew him in Porfile with the half-face that had no deformity. We must imitate this Artifice: Let the subject of which we design to give a lofty Idea, be never so Noble, its Nobleness will never be seen, unless we have the skill to present it with the best of its faces: the best of things have their imperfections; and yet the least new blemish discovered in what we valued before, abates our esteem, and perhaps extinguishes it quite. After we have spoke a thousand fine things, if among them all we shuffle in but one Expression that is mean or impertinent, some people (and those Wits) are so illnatured as to regard nothing but that impertinence, and to forget the rest. We must likewise be careful not to say any thing in one place that may contradict or interfere with what we have said in another. We have an Example of this Fault in Hesiod, who in his Poem called the Buckler, speaking of Proserpina, says that she had a filthy humour running at her Nose: Longinus observes well, that Hesiod's design being to make her terrible, this Expression did not suit, but made her rather odious and contemptible.  
We are likewise to imitate the address of another Painter no less famous than Apelles, and that is Zeuxis, who being to represent Helen as fair in colours as the Greek Poets had done in their Verse, he took the natural touches of all the Beauties of the City, where he drew it, uniting in her Picture all the Graces that Nature had distributed in a great number of handsome Women. When a Poet is Master of his Subject, and can enlarge or retrench as he pleases; if he designs a description (as for example of a Tempest) he is seriously to consider what happens in a Tempest, and to examine all the Circumstances that he may select and make use of what he thinks most extraordinary and surprising.  
Comme l' on voit les flots soulevez par l' Orage,  
Fondre sur un vaisseau qui s' oppose a leur rage,  
Le vent avec fureur dans les voiles fremit,  
Le mer blanchit d' ecume, & l' air auloin gemit:  
Le matelot trouble, que son art abandonne,  
Croit voir dans chaque flot, la mort qui l' environne.  
As when by Storm enraged, the Sea does beat,  
And dash 'gainst th' Vessel that resists its heat,  
The Wind begets a trembling in the Sails,  
The Sea grows white with foam, the Air rails;  
The Seaman troubled, his Art lost, each Wave  
That tumbles next, he looks will be his Grave.  
Our Expressions ought to be Noble, and able to give that lofty Idea which we design as the end of what we say. Though the matter be not equal in all its parts, yet we are to observe a certain Uniformity in our Style. In a Palace there are apartments for Inferior Officers, as well as those who are near the King; there are rooms of State, and there are Stables: the Stables are not built with the Magnificence of the rooms of State, and yet there is a suitableness and proportion betwixt them, and every part shows its relation to the whole. In a lofty Style, though the Expressions ought to correspond with the matter, yet we must speak of indifferent things with an Air above their condition, because our design being to give a high Idea of the thing, 'tis fit all that depend upon it should wear its Livery, and do it honour. An ambitious vain Writer, to show the magnificence of his Style in all that he writes, foists in great and prodigious things, not considering whether the invention of his Prodigies be consistent with reason: The Greeks call this vanity, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Florus in his Abridgement of the Roman History, furnishes us with a considerable example of this Teratologie. His business was to have told us, as Sextus Rufus has done, That the Roman Empire was extended as far as the Sea, by the Conquest which Decimus Brutus made of Spain. Hispanias per decimum Brutum obtinuimus, & usque ad Gades & Oceanum pervenimus. Florus goes higher, and tells us, Decimus Brutus aliquanto latius Gallaecos, atque omnes Gallaeciae populos, formidatumque militibus flumen oblivionis, peregratoque victor Oceani littore, non prius signa convertit, quam cadentem in Maria solemn, obrutumque aquis ignem, non sine quodam Sacrilegii metu & horrore deprehendit, stuffing up his Narration with Prodigies. He fancies that the Romans having carried their Conquests to the farthest parts of Spain, trembled at the sight of the Sea; as if they had thought themselves criminal for beholding with presumptuous eyes the Sun when it was setting, and as it were quenching its flames in the waters of the Ocean.  
This Fault is called Inflation, because the manner of speaking things in so incongruous and extravagant a way, is like the false corpulency of a dropical Man, who appears fat and in goodliking, when he is only puffed up with Water and Wind. This sublime Character is hard to attain; 'tis not every one can raise himself above the common pitch, at least continue his flight: It is easy to fly out into great expressions, but than if those great Expressions be not sustained by greatness of matter, and replete with solid and serious things, they are but like Stilts that show the smallness and defect of the Party at the same time they exalt him.  
By the Engine of a Phrase we may hoist up a trifle, and place it very high, but it quickly relapses, and by its elevation is exposed to their eyes, who perhaps would never have considered it, had it remained in its primitive obscurity. This vanity of making every thing we mention seem great, of clothing our discourse in Magnificent Language, makes it suspicious to persons of judgement, that the Author has a mind to conceal the meanness of his thoughts under the vain pretention of Grandeur. And Quintilian tells us, there are others who by the creeping humility of their Style affect to he thought Copious and Lofty.  
Little People to show themselves with advantage, delight to stand on tiptoe; those who write most weakly, use most Rhodomontades. This inflation of Style, this affectation of Words that make a noise, are rather Arguments of Weakness than force. Quo quisque ingenio minus valet, hoc se magis attollere & dilatare conatur; & statura breves in digitos eriguntur, & plura infirmi minantur; nam & tumidos, & corruptos, & tinnulos, & quocunque alio Cacozeliae genere peccantes, certum habeo, non virium sed infirmitatis vitio laborare.   

III.  
Of a plain simple Style.  
THe Simple and Plain Character has its difficulties: 'tis true the choice of things is not so difficult, because they ought to be common and ordinary: But the plain character is difficult, because the greatness of things dazzles and conceals the faults of a Writer. When we speak of things rare and extraordinary, we make use of Metaphors, custom not affording us expressions of sufficient strength. Discourse may be enriched with figures; because we seldom hear of great things without sentiments of admiration, love, hatred, fear, or hope. On the contrary, when common and ordinary things are to be mentioned, we are constrained to employ proper and ordinary Terms. We have not liberty to use Figures in our Discourse, which cannot be forborn without difficulty: For, in a word, those who are Writers cannot be ignorant that the liberty of using Figures saves them the labour of studying for proper words, which are not always at hand, and that it is easier to speak by Figures than to speak Naturally▪  
When I called this Character simple, I intended not to signify by that Epithet, meaness of expression, that is never good, and always to be avoided. The matter of this Style has no elevation; and yet it ought not to be vile and contemptible. It requires not the pomps and ornaments of Eloquence, nor to be dressed up in magnificent Habits: But yet it abhors an abject way of Expression, and requires that its habits be cleanly and neat.   

IV.  
Of the Middle Style.  
I Shall say little of this middle Character, because it is sufficient to know that it consists in a Mediocrity that ought to participate of the grandeur of the sublime Character, and of the simplicity of the plain Character. Virgil has given us examples of all these three Characters; his Aenead's are in the sublime Character, where he speaks of nothing but Combats, Sieges, Wars, Princes, and Hero's: In them all is magnificent, both sentiments and words. The grandeur of his Expression is suitable to the grandeur of the Subject: Every thing in that Poem is extraordinary; he uses no terms profaned by the custom of the Populace. When he is obliged to name common things, he does it by some Trope, or Circumlocution. For example, when he speaks of Bread, he expresses it by Ceres, who among the Pagans was the Goddess of Corn. The Character of his Eclogues is simple. They are Shepherds who speak and entertain themselves with Love, with Dialogues of their Sheep, and their Fields, after a plain simple manner suitable to the discouses of Shepherds.  
His Georgics are of the middle Character: The matter of which they treat is not so sublime as the matter of his Aenead's, he speaks not there of Wars and Combats, and the establishment of the Roman Empire, which are the subject of his Aenead's; nor are his Georgics so plain and simple as his Eclogues. In his Georgics he searches into the most occult and remote Causes of Nature. He discovers the mysteries of the Roman Religion; he mingles them with Philosophy, Theology, and History, observing a Medium betwixt the Majesty of his Aenead's, and the simplicity of his Bucolics.    

CHAP. III.  

I.  
Of Styles proper to certain Matters; and qualities common to all Styles.  
WE are now speaking of particular Styles, peculiar to certain matters, as the Styles of Poets, Orators, and Historians: But it is not amiss to premise certain Observations relating to the Qualities that are common to all Styles. Among those who use the same Style, some are soft, others more strong: Some are gay, others more severe. I shall show in what these Qualities consist, and how they may be attributed to a Style, when they are convenient to the quality of the subject.  
The first of these Qualities is easiness: a Style is said to be easy when things are delivered with such clearness and perspicuity, that the mind is put to no trouble to conceive them. Thus we say the declension of a Mountain is easy, when it is not hard to ascend. To give this easiness to a Style, we must leave nothing to the Reader's determination; we must prevent all doubts, and remove every thing that may perplex it. In a word, we must deliver things in their necessary latitude and extent, that they may be easily comprehended; for small things are not so visible to the eye. I have said in the precedent Book how cadence is to be sweetened, and pronunciation in discourse. The easiness of the number contributes strangely to the easiness of the Style. This easiness may have several degrees: The Style of an Author that writes with extraordinary ease, is said to be tender and delicate. I will not forget in this place that there is nothing contributes more to the softness and easiness of a Style, than the careful inserting in their due places all the Particulars necessary to make the consequence and connexion of the parts of discourse perceptible and plain.  
The second Quality is Strength, and it is directly opposite to the first; it strikes the mind boldly, and forces attention. To render a Style strong, we must use short expressions that signify much, and excite many Ideas. The Greek and Latin Authors are full of these strong expressions: They are more rare among the French, who choose rather to have their Discourse natural, free, and with some kind of diffusion; for which reason we are not to wonder that the French in their Translations of Greek and Latin Authors are more copious and verbose than the Originals, because they have not those short and compact Expressions; the Genius of our Language choosing rather to explain and disentangle those Ideas which the Greek and Latin words leave abstruse and involved. St. Paul expressing his readiness to die, says very nobly in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Latin Translation renders it, Ego enim jam delibor. To turn it into French, it must be done thus, Lar pour may, je suis comme une victim qui a deja recu l'aspersion pour etre sacrifice. For I am as a victim that has already received aspersion to be sacrificed. All these words do but explain the Ideas given by the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, when we consider its force with necessary attention.  
The Third quality renders a Style pleasant and florid. This Quality depends in part upon the first, and aught to be preceded by it; for the mind is not pleased with too strong an intention. Tropes and figures are the flowers of a Style; Tropes give a sensible conception of the most abstracted thoughts; they are pleasant delineations of what we desire to signify. Figures awaken our attention, they warm and animate the Reader, which is pleasant: Motion is the principle of Life, and of Pleasure; coldness mortifies every thing. The last Quality is severe, it retrenches whatever is not absolutely necessary; it allows nothing to pleasure; it admits of no Ornament nor decoration, and like an old Arepagit, rejects in Discourse every thing that is sprightly; it banishes all things capable of intenerating the heart.  
We are to endeavour that our Style have such qualities as are proper to the subject of which we treat. Vitruvius' that excellent Architect, who lived under Augustus observes, that in the structure of Temples they followed that order that expressed the character of the Deity to whom the Temple was dedicated. The Doric, that is the most solid and plain order, was used in the Temple of Mars, Minerva, and Hercules. The Temples of Venus, Flora, Proserpina, and the Nymphs, were built according to the Corinthian Order, which is sprucer and delicater, adorned with Garlands and Flowers, and all the Ornaments of Architecture. The Jonick was consecrated to Diana, Juno, and other Deities, of whose Humour the rules of that Order gave a character, obliging the Builders to a Medium betwixt the solidity of the Doric, and the Spruceness of the Corinthian Order. It is the same in Discourse: The Flowers and Ornaments of Rhetoric are not proper for grave and majestic Subjects. Austerity of style is unpleasing, when the matter is fitter for mirth.   

II.  
Wbat aught to be the Style of an Orator.  
THose who have writ hitherto of the Art of Speaking, seem to have intended their Rules only for Orators. Their precepts relate only to the Style of an Orator; and those who study that Art, do look upon the copiousness and richness of Expression so much admired in the Discourses of great Orators, as the chief and only Fruit of their Studies. 'Tis true, Eloquence appears more illustrious in that Style, which obliges me to give it the first place.  
Orations commonly are to clear up some obscure and controverted truth; and therefore they require a diffuse Style, because in those cases it is necessary to dissipate all the clouds and obscurities that obfuscate the truth; those who hear an Orator speak, are not so much concerned as he in the cause he defends: They are not always attentive, or their apprehension not being so quick, they conceive things with more trouble; so that an Orator is bound to repeat the same thing several ways, that if the first be defective, the second or third may supply.  
But this copiousness consists not in multitude of Epithets, Words, and Expressions entirely synonimous. To evince a truth; to make it comprehensible to the dullest and most distracted Wits, we must present it under several different Aspects, with this Order, that the last Expressions be always more forcible than the first, and add something to our Discourse, in such manner that without being tedious, we render that sensible and plain which we desire to inculcate. A skilful man accommodates to the capacity of his Auditors; he keeps close to his assertion, and quits it not till he has imprinted and fixed it in the mind of his Hearers.  
Verities in Plead and Orations are not of the same nature with Mathematical truths. Mathematical Truths depend only on a few, and those infallible principles. The other truths depend upon multitudes of circumstances, that separated signify nothing, and are of no conviction but when they are joined and united. They are not to be amassed but by art, and in this it is that the subtlety of an Orator appears. They husband the least circumstance, and lay the stress of their argument upon little particularities, that perhaps another would have rejected with disdain. Upon this score Cicero swells his Orations with circumstances that seem useless and mean. Why does he tell us of Milo's changing his shoes, of his putting on his Riding clothes, of his departing late, and waiting for his Wife who was more tedious in her Dress according to the custom of Women. It is, that the simplicity and life of the picture which he would set before our eyes, without omission of the least stroke or circumstance of the action, might persuade the Judges that there was nothing visible in the conduct of Milo, that could make him reasonably suspected of meditating the murder of Clodius, as Milo's Enemies pretended.  
Great Orators make use only of such expressions as put a value upon their arguments. They endeavour to dazzle the eyes of the Understanding, and to that end fight with none but glittering arms. Custom not supplying them always with words proper to express their judgement of things, and to make them appear in their genuine grandeur, they betake themselves to Tropes which are useful to give what Colour they desire to an action; to make it appear greater, or less, laudable or contemptible, just or unjust, as the Metaphors they employ are capable of exalting or debasing them. But they do often abuse this art, and make themselves ridiculous. We have no just right to disguise an action, to habit it as we please; to call a Venial fault a Crime, or a Crime an excusable fault. Crimes and faults give two different Ideas: If we do not use these terms with exactness, it implies want of Judgement, or want of Faith. A sober hearer respects principally the thing, and before he suffers himself to be persuaded by words, he examines whether they be just. I cannot but admire those Orators who fancy they have utterly overthrown their adversaries, when they have but drolled upon their Arguments; they think they have clearly refuted them, when they have only loaded them with Injuries, turned their Reasons into Ridicule, and spent all the Figures of their Art to represent them as contemptible as they desire.  
We cannot defend a Truth well, if we do not interest ourselves seriously in its defence. That discourse is faint and ineffectual that proceeds not from a heart zealously disposed to contend for the truth when it has undertaken its protection. We have shown in our Second Book that as Nature puts the members of the Body into postures proper for defence, or insult, in a single Duel; so the same Nature prompts us to Figures in our Discourse, and that we give them such touches and circumstances as may justify the controverted truth, and refute all that is brought in opposition. Thus we see there is nothing so artificial as the Harangue of an Orator, who espouses the Sentiments, and drives at nothing but the Interest of the person for whom he pleads.    

CHAP. III.  
What ought to be the Style of an Historian.  
NExt to Oratory, there is no occasion where Eloquence appears with more advantage, than in History: and indeed it is the properest business of an Orator to write History. Cicero tells us, Historia, opus est maxime Oratorium. By his mouth the actions of Great Men ought to be published; by his Pen their Memory ought to be transmitted to Posterity. The chief qualities of an Historical Style are clearness and brevity. An Eloquent Historian relates not only the action, but every considerable circumstance. An insipid man gives us only the Carcase, and delivers things but by halfs; his relation is dry and jejune. When we tell of a Fight, and Victory that ensued, 'tis not like a Historian to say barely they Fought: we must tell the occasion of the War; how it was begun, upon what design; what force was in the Field, in what place it was Fought, what accidents happened, and by what Stratagems it was obtained. But above his History, like a Glass, is to represent the Object simply as it is, without magnificence or diminution.  
Brevity contributes to perspicuity: I speak not of that brevity which consists in things; in the choice of what we are to say, or what we are to omit. The Style of an Historian ought to be close and compact, free from long phrases, and periods that hold the mind in suspense; it must be equal, not interrupted with numerous Figures, partiality, or passion, all improper for an Historian: Not but that an Historian that is a good Orator may make use of his Eloquence; he must relate what is said, as well as what is done: Speeches are Ornaments to a History, in which Figures are necessary to describe the zeal and passion of the Agents.  

IV.  
What ought to be the Style of a Dogmatical Assertion.  
THe zeal we show in the defence of a Controverted truth, sets our thoughts on work, makes us look about every way for Arms, and make use of all the Forces of Rhetoric to triumph upon our adversary. In Dogmatical points, where our Auditors are docible, and receive all as Oracles that we say, we have no occasion for that zeal and fervour: Particularly in Geometry, the Positions are certain and evident; to propose them is sufficient, without Rhetorical Illustration. It is not there as in the Law where the knowledge of truth is pleasing to one, and displeasing to another, inriches the one, and impoverishes the other. Who is he that will trouble himself to contest or defend a Proposition in Geometry? the Geometrician demonstrates that the three angles of a Triangle are equal to two right Angles: Whether this be true or false is indifferent, and no man will concern himself; for this Reason the Style of a Geometrician ought to be plain and naked, and free from those Ornaments that Passion inspires into an Orator. Besides, the clearer and more evident a truth is, the more are we disposed to express it in that manner.  
When we treat of Natural or Moral Philosophy, our Style is not to be so dry and barren, as when we write of Geometry; the truths discovered in them depend not always upon such simple principles. A man that applies himself eagerly to the solution of a Problem in Geometry; to find out the Equation of Algebra, is strict and austere, and cannot endure words introduced only for Ornament. Natural and Moral Philosophy are not so knotty as to put the Reader into an ill humour by studying them, and therefore the Style of those Sciences needs not be so severe. The truths discovered in profane Sciences are barren, and of little importance. Passions are not just and reasonable, but when they provoke the mind to the discovery of some solid good, or the avoiding of some real evil: it is therefore a ridiculous thing to express passion in the defence of an indifferent thing; to fly out into Transportations, and Raptures, and Figures, that discretion would reserve for more considerable occasions. I have not patience to see a man furious in defending the Reputation of Aristotle; to hear a man rail against another for not having so profound a Reverence for Cicero as himself; to exclaim and fall to work with his Figures against a poor Man that is perhaps mistaken in the description of the Roman or Greek Habits: And if you will have the truth, it is with little less aversion that I read the Works of some Divines, who handle the fundamental verities of our Religion as drily and slightly as if they were of no importance at all. It is a kind of Irreligion to be present at Divine Service, without some outward expression of love, respect, and veneration; we cannot communicate in an irreverent posture without sin. Those who profess Divinity, and would instruct others, must as much as in them lies imitate their great Master Christ Jesus, who convinced the understanding, wrought upon the will, and inflamed the heart of his Disciples whilst he taught them. It was this divine fire that he kindled in their minds, that the Disciples acknowledged, Nun cor erat ardens in nobis, dum nobiscum loqueretur in via? With what coldness do the greatest Devots read the Writings of our Scholiasts? there is nothing in them that corresponds to the Majesty of their Matter: Their arguments are low and flat, and sufficient to depreciat the authority of the most authentic truths. Their expressions are reptile, their Style mean, without efficacy or vigoun. The holy Scripture is majestic: The Writings of the Fathers are full of love and zeal for those truths that they teach. When the heart is on fire, the words that come from it must of necessity be ardent.   

V.  
[What ought to be the Style of a Poet.  
A Poet is unconfined, we give him what liberty he pleases, and do not pin him up to the Laws of Custom: This liberty is easily justified. Poets are desirous to delight and surprise us by things that are great, wonderful, extraordinary: they cannot arrive at their designed end, unless they maintain the grandeur of things by the grandeur of words. All that they say being extraordinary, their expressions being to equal the dignity of their matter, ought likewise to be extraordinary; for this cause in Poetry we say nothing without Hyperboles and Metaphors, custom not being able to supply us with terms that are strong enough. A Poetical Discourse is figure all over. The dignity of the matter filling the Soul of a Poet with Raptures, Esteem, and Admiration, the course of his words cannot be equal; he is necessarily interrupted by floods of great motions whereby his mind is agitated. So, when the subject of his Verse has nothing in it that can cause these commotions and raptures (as in Eclogues and Comedies, and certain other verse whose matter is low:) his Style must be plain without Figures. It is the quality of great and extraordinary things that excuses a Poet, and authorises him in his manner of speaking; for his matter being common, 'tis no more lawful for him than an Historian to decline common Expression. Ordinarily we do not affect abstracted verities that are not to be perceived but by the eyes of the mind. We are so accustomed to conceive only by the mediation of our senses, that we are not able to comprehend barely with our minds, unless what we would understand be grounded and established upon some sensible experiment. Hence it is that abstracted Expressions are Enigmas to most people; and those only please which are sensible, and do form in the Imagination the picture of the thing that is to be conceived. Poets, whose great end is to please, do use only these latter Expressions; and for the same reason it is, that Metaphors which (as we said before) make every thing so plain, are so frequent in their Style. This desire of striking effectually upon the sense, and making themselves easily understood, has prompted the Poets to make use of so many Fictions, and endue every thing they mentioned with body, soul, and shape.  
A Vapour rends the Clouds, and makes the crack,  
The frighted World at armed Jove does quake.  
'Tis terrible to see torn Sails, broke Masts,  
Thetis face grown rough with Aeolus blasts.  
But raging Neptune's he, which makes the Graves  
For Fleets, those flying Cities, in his Waves.  
When a Poet tells us, that Bellona Goddess of War put fear and terror into a whole Army, that the god Mars quickened the courage of the Soldier, these ways of expressing things gives a different impression upon our sense, from what we receive by the common way of Expression, The whole Army was terrified; the Soldier was encouraged. Every Virtue, every Passion is a god among the Poets. Minerva is Prudence: Fear, Choler, Envy are Furies. When these words are considered only with the Ideas that common custom has joined to them, they make no great impression; but the Goddess of Choler cannot be represented with her eyes full of Fury, her hands bloody, her mouth breathing fire, her Serpents, her lighted Torches, etc. but it begets a trembling and horror. In the Divine Poems, and in those which were Sung before the Sanctuary, the Prophets made use of such ways of speaking to make themselves intelligible to the people. David makes us conceive how God had succoured and protected him against his Enemies in as lively and emphatical a style as any of the profane Poets could have done. He represents God Almighty coming down in the Clouds to fight in his defence.  
I looked not long ere th'earth began to shake,  
The Rocks to tremble, and the Hills to quake:  
And to attest the presence of its God,  
Who to the Judgement on a Cherub road,  
The World its fixed foundation did forsake.  
Out from his Nostrils a thick smoke did go,  
And from his mouth devouring fire,  
Which more impetuous as it large did grow,  
And made the Heavens almost with heat expire.  
He bowed the Heavens, and then came down,  
Under his feet chained darkness lay,  
And Tempests that no will but this will own,  
In haste flew on before to make him way.  
He followed close, and their slow pace did chide,  
Bid them with greater speed and swiftness ride.  
And that he dreadful might appear,  
Yet not consume till got more near.  
Dark Waters and thick Clouds his face did hide.  
Poesy awakens, Prose lulls and disposes to sleep. The Narratives of a Poet are interrupted with Exclamations, Apostrophes, Digressions, and thousands of other Figures to allure attention. Poets regard things only in places where they are most capable of charming, and mind nothing of them but their Grandeur or Rarity: They consider not any thing that may cool their admiration. By this means they seem to be beside themselves; and giving way to the fire of their Imagination, they grow Enthusiastic, and like the Sibyl who being full of extraordinary Inspiration, spoke not the common Language of Mankind; 
— Sed pectus anhelat,  
Et rabie fera Corda tument; Majorq, videri,  
Nec Mortale sonans, efflata est numine quando  
Jam propiore Dei.—     

CHAP. V.  

I.  
The beauty of Discourse is an effect of an exact Observation of the Rules of Speaking.  
AN ancient Author has told us that Beauty is the flower of health. Flowers are the effect and declaration of the good condition of the Plant that produces them. Flourishes in discourse proceed in the same manner from the good Complexion, that is, from the justness and exactness of a discourse. The same thing admits of several Names according to the several faces by which it is represented. When Beauty is considered in itself, it is the flower of health; but when it is considered with reference to those who do judge of that Beauty, we may then say, that true Beauty is that which pleases Ingenious men, who are they that judge of things most reasonably. It is a hard matter to determine what it is that pleases, and in what consists that Je ne scay quoy of delight that we feel in the reading a good Author. Nevertheless upon reflection we shall find the pleasure we conceive in a well-composed Discourse, proceeds only from the resemblance betwixt the Image formed by the words in our mind, and the things whose Image they bear; so that it is either the truth that pleases, or the conformity betwixt the words and the things. That which is called Great and Sublime, is nothing but that conformity in its perfection and excellence. Longinus in his Book of this Sublimity, has given us an example of a sublime expression taken out of the First Chapter of Genesis, where Moses speaking of the Creation, uses these words; And God said let there be light, and there was light; an expression that gives a strong Idea of the power of God over his Creatures, which was the thing that Moses designed.  
The greatness of an Expression being founded upon its perspicuity and force, it is no hard matter to determine which are the true Ornaments of Discourse, and in what they consist. A discourse is beautiful when it is composed according to the Rules of Art; it is great when it is more than ordinary perspicuous; when there is not one equivocation; no sentence unintelligible; no expression ambiguous; when it is well-disposed, and the mind of the Reader led directly to the end of the design, without the remora or impediment of impertinent words. Such clearness like a Torch dispels all obscurity, and makes every thing visible. We have shown already in our Third Book, that when we range our words in such manner as their pronunciation is fluid and easy, they make a delightful harmony to every Body that hears them: so we need no other Rules for speaking Ornately, than the Rules already given for speaking justly.  
Ornaments in Discourse, like Ornaments of Nature, have this property, they are both pleasant and profitable. In Natural Beauty whatever is comely, is useful. In an Orchard where the Trees are planted in rows, or in squares, the disposition of them is pleasant and useful; because they are so set, that the Earth may communicate its juice equally to them all. Arbores in Ordinem, certaque intervalla redactae, placent; Quincunce nihil speciosius est, sed id quoque prodest, ut succum terrae aequaliter trahant. Pillars are the principal Ornaments of Building, their beauty is linked so straight with the solidity of the Work, that the Pillars cannot be pulled down without destruction to the whole House. The Ornaments of a good Discourse are also inseparable. Allusions and sporting with words; Figurative repetition of certain Syllables, and other Ornaments not altogether Essential, can give but small satisfaction to those who consider them with the eye of Reason: for in a word, it is truth only that satisfies a rational man; in Ornaments there is nothing of truth; they do rather perplex and Embarass, and render things more unconceivable than if our Discourse were simple and natural.   

II.  
The false Idea that men have of Grandeur, and their desire to speak nothing but Great things is the Cause of ill Ornaments.  
THere are but few men that examine judiciously the things which present themselves. We suffer ourselves to be taken with Appearances, because great things are rare, and extraordinary. Men do form to themselves such an Idea of Grandeur, that whatever carries an extraordinary air, appears to them great. They put no value upon any thing that is common. They despise the manners of Speaking that are not natural, for no other reason but because they are not extraordinary. They affect big words, and bombast phrases, Sesquipedalia verba & ampullas. To dazzle and amaze, we need only clothe our Propositions in strange and magnificent Language. They consider not whether under that dress there be any thing concealed that is effectually great and extraordinary. That which makes their stupidity the more remarkable is, that they admire what they do not understand, Mirantur quae non intelligunt; because obscurity has some appearance of Grandeur, sublime and exalted things being for the most part obscure and difficult.  
Men having then so false an Idea of Grandeur, it is not to be admired if the Ornaments wherewith their works are adorned be false and numerous, because as we have said before, they desire to speak nothing but what is great. But men's ambition carrying them beyond their pitch, they miscarry in their slight, and puff themselves up, till they crack with the too great quantity of wind. Copiousness is a mark of Grandeur; our impatience to appear copious, chokes up our thoughts with too great abundance of words. When men are pleased with a thing, they insist upon it too much, and repeat it over and over. Nesciunt quod bene cessit relinquere. They are like young Hounds that worry their Prey, and are not easily got off. Every thing is to be allowed its natural dimension. A Statute whose parts are disproportionable, whose legs are great, and arms small, whose body is large and head small, is monstrous and irregular. The greatest art of Eloquence is to keep the hearers attentive, and hinder them from losing the prospect of the end to which we would conduct them. But when we stop too long upon particular parts, we are many times employed so much upon them, that we forget the principal Subject. Copiousness therefore is not always good. Repletion and emptiness are both Causes of Disease.  
Amongst Learned men those are most esteemed who are best read. The difficulty of a Science advances its price; we have a value for those who understand the Arabian and Persian Languages; we never examine whether by those Languages they have acquired any knowledge that is not to be found in other Authors; it is sufficient if the skilful in these Languages understand that which is hard te be understood, and understood by few people. Our ambition to be thought Learned, and to intimate and ostentate our Erudition, causes that either in Speaking or Writing, we name continually our Authors, though their authority be necessary no farther than to show we have read them, and to make us pass for Learned men. This humour St. Austin reproaches to Julian, Quis haec audiat, & non ipso nominum, sectarumque conglobatarum strepitu terreatur, si est ineruditus, qualis est hominum multitudo, & existimet te aliquem magnum, qui haec scire potueris? they heap Greek upon Latin, and Hebrew upon Arabic. A trifle delivered in Greek is well enough received. An Italian phrase however applied in discourse, makes the Author pass for a polite, well-bred man. Were it not customary and common, we should be as much frighted at this wild way of speaking, as at the discourse of a madman. This is a fault that disgraces a style, and hinders it from being natural and clear. If it be to add weight to our words, that we add the Names of our Authors, we ought to do it only when necessity requires us to make use of the authority and reputation of an Author. What need is there that we quote Euclid to prove that the whole is equal to all the parts: Or cite Philosophers to persuade the World that Winter is cold. I do not blame all these citations, on the contrary they are commendable, when the words are clear, and convenient to awaken the mind of the Reader by variety: It is only excess in this kind that is unblamable. Those who have read much are to imitate the Bee, which digests what it has sucked from the flowers, and turns all into Honey. Nature loves simplicity. It is the sign of distemper to have the skin marked with spots of several colours. Too frequent sentences trouble also the uniformity of a style: By the word Sentence is understood those exalted and abstracted thoughts that are to be expressed in a concise way, and in few words; and these Sentences are called points. I speak not of those childish and false Sentences which have nothing in them but what is forced and unnatural. The best expressions placed too thick, do but perplex and incommode a Style, and render it rugged: and when they are separated from the rest of the discourse, the Style may be said to be rough and unpleasing. These abstracted thoughts are like patches sowed together, which being of a different colour from the rest of the stuff, make the Garment ridiculous, Curandum est ne sententiae emineant extra Corpus orationis expressae, sed intexto vestibus colore niteant. Some love to intersperse their discourses with these kind of Sentences, supposing they add reputation to the Wit of the Author: Facie ingenii blandiuntur.  
The last fault into which they fall who are desirous to have the honour of doing something exactly, proceeds from an extraordinary endeavour to make their Works excellent. A man who writes with too much affectation, is not capable of perceiving the obscurity of his words. The darkest of them seem clear to him; he discovers easily all the Ideas that his Expressions ought to awaken to be understood, because those Ideas are present to him. But it is not the same with those who read his Works, whose imaginations are not so hot, and who do not address themselves to penetrate the sense of his words with so great zeal and application as he who composed them. When a man expresses himself with pain, we labour with him, and in some measure we participate of his pain: If he expresses himself easily and naturally, so as every word seems to fall into its place without the trouble of picking them, that easiness is pleasant. The sight of a merry Man disposes us to mirth.  
This facility appears in a Treatise, when we make use of natural expressions, when we avoid those which are elaborate, and carry the sensible marks of Writing with pain. Not but that to furnish ourselves with terms natural and proper, we have need sometimes of study and application: But this study, this application ought not to appear. Ludentis speciem dabit, & torquebitur. As much as we may, and the matter of which we treat will permit, we must give our discourse this latitude and liberty of Conversation. Doubtless when a person in conversation speaks easily and pleasantly, it goes far towards towards the putting us into the same humour; the pleasure we take in his discourse, renders every thing easy that he says.   

III.  
Of Artificial Ornaments: Rules relating to those Ornaments.  
BEsides this natural Beauty which is the excellence and exactness of Discourse, we are obliged to take notice of certain Ornaments that we may call Artificial. It must be acknowledged that in the Works of the most judicious Authors, some things are to be found that might have been spared without injury to their discourse, without perplexity to the sense, and without diminution to the strength of their style. They are introduced only for Embellishment, and are of no other use but to detain the mind of the Reader, and make him the more willingly attentive. Many times when we have said all that is necessary, we add something for Entertainment, and choose to express ourselves by Metaphors or Hyperboles: Though perhaps custom affords us Terms proper enough to express our Conceptions, yet we think it better in Discourse to make use of Figures to prevent being tedious. When our Words and Expressions are well disposed, and may be conveniently pronounced, we go farther, we measure them, and give them such Cadence as may make them grateful to the ear. Nature sports herself sometimes in her own Works: all Plants do not bear fruit, some having nothing but flowers. We cannot therefore absolutely condemn these Ornaments that are inserted only for the diversion and entertainment of the Reader. They have their worth, but it is the right use of them that gives it. The following Rules will not be unprofitable for our using this copiousness of Expression with dexterity and Art. The first Rule to be observed in the distribution of Ornaments, is to apply them in their due time and place: Recreation is of Importance when we have been over-laden with business. When a subject is difficult, and that difficulty has perplexed and troubled the Reader, we must have a care of such sporting with words as may increase his perplexity by diverting his thoughts before he comprehends. When we aim at nothing but conviction, diversion is unpleasant. Some things there are that admit of no Ornament, such as these we call Dogmatical.  Ornari res ipsa negat, contenta doceri. 
When the subject of our Discourse is simple, all the rest ought to be so too. Precious Stones, and extraordinary Ornaments, are used only in great Festivals, and upon extraordinary occasions.  
The Second Rule requires that the Ornaments be just, and the Rules of Art exactly observed. Some people are so idle as not to concern themselves for the impertinence or falsity of what they say, if it be spoken after the manner of a Sentence: If they can but hedge a Metaphor or other Figure into their Discourse, they regard not whether what they say be for or against them: If they can bring in an Antithesis, a Repetition, a Cadence that tickles the sense, they care not how vain it be, and unsatisfactory to Reason. But we must know nothing is beautiful that is false; and if there be any thing that puts a value upon these fallacious Ornaments, it is because they dazzle us by their false lustre, and deafen us by their insignificant Noise; or if I may speak my thoughts freely, it is because our judgements are defective. A Noble mind affects things and truth in discourse rather than words. St. Austin tells us, Bonorum ingeniorum insignis est indoles, in verbis verum amare, non verba. I cannot value a Discourse that tickles my ear, unless the matter pleases my judgement. Nullo modo mihi sonat diserte, quod dicitur inepte.  
The Third Rule in these Artificial Ornaments is to consider first what is useful; to make choice of such terms and expressions as are capable of imprinting in the minds of our Auditors such thoughts and motions as we desire to give them. The first thing that takes up the thoughts of an Architect, is the raising of his walls, and erecting such strong Pillars as may support the Superstructure. If he has a mind to beautify, he adorns his Pillars with Gutter-work, his Cornishes with Frezes', and Flowers, and Metopes, and Treglyphes, and other decorations wherewith his art supplies him. But this is to be observed, things of Ornament are never set up till the solid and substantial part of the building be finished.  
The last Rule is, that we keep a just Moderation in our Ornaments; they must not be too frequent: The greatest pleasures are the soon gone: Omnis voluptas (says St. Austin) habet finitimum fastidium. Nothing is more graceful than the eye, but he that should have more in his face than two, would be a Monster. Confusion of Ornaments hinders discourse from being clear: and it is as observable as any thing I have hitherto said, that excess of Ornaments keeps the mind of the hearer from being intent upon the substance. This happens very frequently in Panegyrics, where Orators are usually lavish of their Eloquence, and with full hands throw about the flowers of their Art. The hearer admires the Orator, but never thinks upon the person commended. We are in every thing to respect the design. When we would arrive happily at the end of our journey, we choose the best way we can find; but it must be sure to conduct us thither. When leaves cover the Fruit, and hinder their ripening, we pull off those Leaves without considering that we rob the Trees of such beautiful Ornnments.  
For this Reason it is, that the Holy Ghost which directed the Pens of the Apostles, suffered them not to make use of the Rhetoric and pompous Eloquence of profane Orators, which deludes the eye, and makes us consider rather the beauty of words, than the sense and reason of things. The Sacred Scriptures were nor writ to indulge our Vanity, but to edify our Souls. Those who in Books require nothing but idle diversion, do undervalue them; but he who loves Reason and Matter, shall find enough in the Holy Scriptures to delight and edify himself. One single Psalm of david's is worth more than all the Odes of Pindar, Anacreon, and Horace. Demosthenes and Cicero are not to be compared to Isaiah. All the Works of Plato and Aristotle are not equivalent to one of St. Paul's Chapters. For in short, words being nothing but sound, we ought not to prefer their harmony to the solid knowledge of truth. For my own part I value not the Art of Speaking, but as it contributes to the discovery of truth; as it forces it from the bottom of our thoughts where it lay concealed; as it disintangles it, and displays it to our eyes; and indeed this is the true cause that has encouraged me to write of this Art, as a thing not only useful, but necessary.   

IV.  
The former Table refuted, and the true Original of Languages declared.  
IF that which Diodorus Siculus has writ of the Original of Languages be true, what we have fancied of our new men forming a Language to themselves, would not be a Fable, but a true Story. That Author speaking of the opinion of the Greeks in relation to the beginning of the World, tells us, that after the Elements had taken their places in the Universe, and the Waters were run down into the Sea, the Earth being yet moist, was chafed by the heat of the Sun, became fruitful, and produced man and the rest of the Creatures. That these men being dispersed up and down in several places, found by experience that to defend themselves against the Beasts, it would be convenient to live together: That at first their words were confused and gross, which they polished afterwards, and established such terms as were judged necessary for the explanation of their thoughts; and that in time men being born in several corners of the Earth, and by consequence divided into several Societies, of which every one had formed to itself a distinct Language, it followed that all Nations did not make use of the same Language.  
These are the conjectures of the Greeks, who had no true knowledge of Antiquity: Plato reproaches it to them in one of his Dialogues, where he brings in Timaeus telling that the Egyptians commonly called the Greeks children, because they understood no more than Children, from whence they had their Original, or what passed in the world before they were born; so that we are not much to depend upon their Salvation. All the ancient monuments of Antiquity bear witness to the verity of what Moses relates in Genesis about the Creation of the World, and the Original of mankind.. We understand from thence that God form Adam the first of his Sex, and gave him a Language of which alone his Children made use till the building of the Tower of Bebel some time after the Deluge. The design of building that Tower, was to defend themselves against God himself: If ever he should punish the world with another Deluge, they hoped by that Edifice to protect themselves against him; and they were so insolent in their Enterprise, that God Almighty finding them obstinate, sent such Confusion into their Language and Words as disabled them from understanding one another; by which means their design was frustrated, and they forced to desist and separate into several Countries.  
The common Opinion concerning this Confusion is, that God did not so confound the Languages of these Undertakers, as to make so many several Languages as there were men. It is believed only that after this Confusion, every Family made use of a particular Language; from whence it followed that the Families being divided, the men were distinguished as well by difference of Languages, as the places to which they retired. This Confusion consisted not alone in the Novelty of Words, but in the alteration, transposition, addition, or retrenchment of several Letters which composed their familiar words before that Confusion. Hence it is that we easily deduce from the Hebrew Language (which is rationally presumed to be that which was spoken by Adam, and used a long time afterwards) the Original of the ancient Names of Towns, and Provinces, and their Inhabitants, as has been proved by several Learned men, and particularly by Samuel Bochart in his Sacred Geography.  
The use of words than did not come by chance; it was God who taught them at first, and from the first Language that he gave to Adam, all other Languages are derived, that being afterwards divided and multiplied as aforesaid. Yet this Confusion which God brought into the Languages of the Builders of the Tower of Babel, was not the sole Cause of the great diversity and multiplicity of Languages. Those in use at this time in the world are much more numerous than the Families of the children of Noah, when they were separated, and much different from their Languages. As in all other things, so in Languages, there are insensible alterations that in time makes them all appear quite other than what they were at first. It is not to be doubted but our present French is derived from that which was spoken five hundred years since: and yet we can scarce understand what was spoken but two hundred years ago. It is not to be imagined that these alterations happened only to the French Tongue. Quintilian tells us that the Language of the Romans in his time was so different from what it was at first, that the Priests could scarce understand the old Hymns composed by their Primitive Priests to be Sung before their Idols.  
The inconstancy of man is a principal cause of this alteration. His love to Novelty makes him contrive new words instead of the old, and introduce such ways of Pronunciation as in process of time changes entirely the old Language into new. So that those who are inquisitive after the Etymology or Original of new Languages, to discover how they are derived from the Ancients, aught to consider what have been the different manners of pronunciation in different times, and how by those different manners the words have been so changed, that they appear quite different from what they were in their Original. For example, there is no great conformity betwixt Ecrire in French, and Scribere in Latin, betwixt Etabler, and Stabilire. In time it came to be the custom not to pronounce the Letter S after E at the beginning of a word, and then they writ Ecribere, Etabilere, and at length abbreviating farther, they came to write Ecrire, Etabler. Changes of this Nature have so disguised the Latin words, that they have made a new Language. In all Languages it is the same with the French, which with the Spanish and Italian proceeds from the Latin. Latin comes from the Greek, Greek from Hebrew, as the Chaldee, and Syriack. It is the different manners of Pronunciation that have caused the great difference at present in all Languages. We are much surprised at first, when from an ancient Language we can derive any word of a new Language: for example, a Latin from an Hebrew word, if their difference be considerable. The surprise proceeds from this, that no notice is taken that the Latin word before it received its present form, passed through several Countries and Conditions that altered it. These conditions are the different manners with which it has been pronounced.  
People have particular inclinations for particular Letters, and particular terminations; apprehending either by fancy or reason, that the pronunciation of these Letters; and those terminations is more easy, and accommodate to their natural dispositions. This is particularly remarkable in the Greek Tongue; and is it, that has introduced in the common use of that Language, the particularities called Dialects. The Atticks for Example instead of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, put 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. They add the Syllable 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 at the end of many of their words; they do frequently add 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to the end of their Adverbs: They contract their words in opposition to the Jonians who lengthen them. The Doricks' use the ae very often. The Aeolians use 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 before (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉), of two 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 they make two 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, they change the (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) into 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. It is the same with the Chaldee, in respect of the Hebrew. The Italians, French, and Spanish have their peculiar Letters and terminations, as may be seen by their Grammars and Dictionaries. These peculiarities do manifestly change much of their Languages, and create great difference betwixt them; so that though they proceed from the same Parents (if I may so say) they do not seem to be Sisters. For the French, Italian, and Spanish, seem to be derived from several Languages.  
The changes and revolutions that happen to States, produce alteration in Languages, because in alteration of Governments several different People are united, from which mixture confusion of Language must necessarily follow. So our French Language is not derived wholly from Latin, but composed of several words in use among the ancient Gauls and Germans, with whom the Romans cohabited in Gallia. The English Tongue has several French words, introduced upon occasion of the English remaining a long time in France, of which the greatest part was in their possession. The Spaniards have several Arabic words derived to them from the Moors, under whose Dominion they were for some Centuries of Years. Terms of Art proceed commonly from the places where those Arts have been studied and improved. Whence it comes that the Greeks having laboured most towards the cultivation of Sciences, the terms of the Liberal Arts are generally Greek. The Art of Navigation has been infinitely improved in the North, and therefore the terms of Navigation are generally in the language of the North.  
Colonies have been a great means of the multiplication of Languages. It is manifest the Tyrians who traded formerly all over the world, have carried their Language into most Countries. At Carthage (a Colony of the Tyrtans) they spoke the Language of the Phoenicians, which was a Dialect of Hebrew, as may be proved by several Arguments, but particularly by the Verses in the Punic or Carthaginian Language, to be read in Plautus. But as we have said, Colonies multiply Languages, and make several out of one, because those who are removed into those Colonies, not understanding well enough their own Language to preserve it without corruption, are apt to participate of the Language to which they are removed; by which means they by degrees begin to speak both Languages, and frame a third of them both. It is no hard matter to trace out the Original of Languages, if we have any smattering of Antiquity; but my design suffers me not to enlarge upon this Subject. From what is said, it appears clearly that Custom changes Languages, that custom makes them what they are, and exercises a Sovereignty over them, that shall be evinced more amply in the following Chapter.     

A Discourse, in which is given an Idea of the Art of Persuasion.  

CHAP. I.  

I.  
What are the Parts of the Art of Persuasion.  
THough the Arts of Speaking and Persuading are both comprehended under the name of Rhetoric by several great Masters, yet it is not to be denied but there is great difference betwixt them. Every man who speaks well, has not the secret of working upon the Affections, or working to his side, such as were before of a contrary opinion; and this is called to persuade. Wherefore being to treat of these two Arts, I chose to do it separately; yet I shall in this place only give an Idea of the Art of Persuasion, not being able to treat of it in its full latitude, because it borrows its Arms from several other Arts, and cannot be separated from them, as I shall show in the sequel of this discourse.  
To Persuade, we must find out a way to bring People to our Sentiments, that were of a contrary Sentiment before: We must put our matter in Order in our minds, and having fairly disposed it, we must make choice of such words as are proper to express it. We must get by heart what we write, that we may pronounce it with more advantage; so the Art of Persuasion consists of five parts. The first is, Invention of Proper Names; the Second is, Disposition of those means: The Third is, Elocution: The Fourth, Memory: The Fifth, Pronunciation. When a truth is eagerly contested, unless we be blinded with Interest, Perverseness, or Passion, good proof is sufficient to convince us; to remove all difficulties, and dispel all clouds. But when the controversy is with people that are not fond of the truth; that are perverse in their inclinations, and prepossessed by their Passions, Reason is too weak, and we must make use of cunning. Upon this occasion two things are to be done; we must study their humours and inclinations to gain them: And because most men judging (according to their Passions) that their Friends were in the right, and their Enemies in the wrong, we must infuse such Motions into them as may bring them to our side: Wherefore the Masters in that Art have owned three ways of Persuading; Arguments, Manners, and Passion. They teach us that to persuade we must find proofs; we must deliver ourselves so as to work upon the Inclinations of him we would gain, or excite such passion in his mind as may dispose him to our Party.   

II.  
The Invention of Proofs.  
CLearness is the character of Truth; no doubt can be made of a clear truth, and when it is evident in the highest degree, the most sullen and obstinate are obliged to throw down their Arms, and submit to conviction. No man will ever deny that the whole is greater than the part; That all the parts united are equal to the whole, etc. Sometimes we turn our faces, and will not see the clearness of such truths as offend us: Yet at length, when in spite of our Aversion, truth strikes strongly upon our eyes, we are glad to surrender, and our Tongues many times give the lie to our Minds. To persuade those whose Disputes are grounded only upon the obscurity or uncertainty of a Proposition, we must make use of one or more incontestable Propositions, and make it appear that the Proposition contested is the same with those which are incontestable. The Roman Judges doubted whether Milo had done ill in killing of Claudius; they doubted not but it was lawful to repel force by force. Cicero to clear the innocence of the accused party, made use of these two Propositions, We may kill him that would murder us, and therefore Milo might kill Claudius for seeking his life. One of these Propositions is clear, the other obscure: One is granted on all hands, the other uncertain; yet they signify but the same thing, and by consequence one of them being incontestable, the other must be so too. It is the first part of Philosophy called Logic, to give Rules of Argumentation, and therefore it is not without reason that we have said in the beginning of this Discourse, that to handle this Art of Persuasion in its full dimension, we must treat of several other Arts, which could not be done without Confusion.  
The matter of the Art of Persuading is not limited: This Art shows itself in the Pulpit, at the Bar, at all manner of business and conversation; for in a word, the whole end of Commerce and Conversation is to persuade those with whom we deal, and reduce them to our Sentiments. To be then a complete Orator, and speak well upon any thing that occurs (as the Rhetoricians pretend their Disciples may,) we ought to be universally well-read, and ignorant of nothing: for a man indeed is not perfectly capable of Arguing, but when he understands his Subject to the bottom; when his mind is full of clear truths, and undoubted Maxims, from whence Consequences may be deduced to decide the Controversy in question. For example, a Divine argues rationally and well, when to persuade an Adversary to his Opinion, he produces Texts of Scripture; the Fathers, the Councils, Tradition, and the Testimony of the Church.   

III.  
Of Common Places.  
THere is no way of filling the mind with certain truths upon the matters of which we are to Treat, like serious Meditation, and long study, of which few men are capable: Knowledge is a Fruit environed with Thorns, that keep most men at a distance: so that if it were not lawful to speak of any thing but what we know, the most part of those who make Oratory their Profession, would be obliged to hold their peace. To obviate so inevitable an inconvenience, these Orators have sought out short and easy ways to supply themselves with matter of discourse, even upon Subjects on which they are entirely ignorant. They distribute these ways into several Classes, which they call Common-Places, because they are publicly exposed, and every man may take out freely what Arguments he pleases to prove what is in dispute, though perhaps he be quite ignorant of the thing in Controversy himself. The Logicians speak of these Common-places in their Topics. I shall explain in few words the use of these Common-places, and afterwards show what judgement is to be made of them.  
Common-places do properly contain nothing but general advice that remembers those who consult them of all the faces by which a subject may be considered; and this may be convenient, because viewing a Subject in that manner on all sides, without doubt we may find with more ease what is most proper to be said on that subject. A thing may be observed a hundred different ways, yet it has pleased the Authors of those Topics to establish only 16 Common-places.  
The First of these Common-places is the Genus; that is to say, we must consider in every subject what it has in common with all other the like Subjects. If we speak of the War with the Turks, we may consider War in general, and draw our Arguments from that Generality.  
The Second place is called Difference, by which we consider whatever is peculiar to a Question.  
The Third is Definition; that is to say, we must consider the whole nature of the Subject: The Discourse which expresses the nature of a thing, is the definition of that thing.  
The Fourth place is Enumeration of the parts contained in the Subject of which we Treat.  
The Fifth is the Etymology of the Name of the Subject.  
The Sixth is the Conjugates, which are the Names which have connexion with the name of our Subject, as the word love has connexion with all these other words, to love, loving, friendship, lovely, friend, etc.  
We may likewise consider the similitude, or dissimilitude, in the things of which we treat; which two Considerations make the Seventh and the Eighth places.  
We may likewise make Comparison, and in our comparison introduce every thing to which our subject is opposed, and this Comparison and Opposition are the Ninth and Tenth places.  
The Eleventh place is Repugnance; that is to say, in discoursing upon a Subject, we must have an eye upon those things that are repugnant to it, to discover the Proofs wherewith that Prospect may furnish us.  
'Tis of importance to consider all the Circumstances of the matter proposed: but these Circumstances have either preceded, or accompanied, or followed the thing in question; so these Circumstances do make the Twelfth, Thirteenth, and Fourteenth places. All the Circumstances that can accompany an action, are commonly comprehended in this Verse  
Quis, quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis, cur, quomodo, quando.  
That is to say we are to examine who is the Author of the Action; what the action is; where it was done; by what means; for what end; how; and when.  
The Fifteenth place is the Effect: and the Sixteenth the Cause; that is to say, we must have regard to the Effect, of which the thing in dispute may be the cause; and to the things of which it may be the effect.  
These Common-places do without doubt supply us with ample matter for Discourse. The different Considerations present us with several Arguments, and are able questionless to furnish the most barren Invention. I examine not now whether this supply be commendable or not. According to this method if we be to speak against a Parricide; we speak against Parricide in General, and then bring it home to the person accused, and to the rest of the Particulars; then we proceed to the Circumstances of Parricide, discovering the blackness of the Crime by Definitions, Descriptions, Enumerations. Sometimes the Etymology of the Name of the thing upon which we are speaking, and the other Names that have reference to it, supply us with matter. A long Discourse might be raised upon the Obligation which Christians have to live well, by only remembering them of the Name that they bear.  
Discourses are much enlarged by Similitudes, Dissimilitudes, and Comparisons, that serve to remove a difficulty, and illustrate an obscure truth. In a word, he who should Circumstantiate an action, describe what was precedent, concomitant, and subsequent, what was the cause, and what was the Effect, would sooner tyre his Auditory, than want matter for Discourse.   

IV.  
Of Places proper to particular Subjects.  
THe Places of which we have spoke are called common, because they are exposed to all the world, and because they furnish Arguments for all causes: There are other places proper to particular subjects. Before we speak of those places, it is to be considered that there are two sorts of Questions; The First is called Thesis, the other Hypothesis. A Thesis is a question not determined by any circumstance of time, place, or person, as whether War be to be made. An Hypothesis is a question defined, and circumstantiated, as whether War be to be made with the Turk in Hungary this Year. But all these questions may be referred to three kinds: For we deliberate whether such an action is to be done; we examine what Judgement is to be made of that action, and we either approve or dislike the action. The first kind is called Deliberative; the Second, Judiciary; the Third, Demonstrative. Each of these kinds has its peculiar places, that is to say as is said before, there are certain Counsels and Directions given for each of these kinds. As in case of the Deliberative, according as we would advise the undertaking, or quitting of an action, we must show that it is useful, or not useful; necessary, or unnecessary; that the success will be prejudicial, or advantageous; and that the Enterprise is just or unjust.  
A Judiciary Question may be considered in one of these three States; either we know not the Author of the action that is the subject of our Discourse, and then because we endeavour to discover the said Author by Conjectures, that is called the state of Conjectures. If the Author be known, we examine the nature of the action. For Example, A Thief steals out of a Church the treasure which a private person left there in deposito: We examine whether this action be Sacrilege, or simple Theft. We consider the definition of the crime; and therefore we call the one the state of Definition, and the other the state of Quality, because the quality of the action is to be examined as whether it be just or unjust.  
In the first state it is to be considered whether the person suspected would have committed such a Crime if he could, and what Tokens there are of it. We judge of his Will, by considering what advantage it would be to him to commit it. We judge of his Power, by considering his strength, opportunity, and other means: and we judge whether he was effectually guilty or not, by the circumstances of the action; as whether he was found alone in the place where it was committed; whether before or after it was committed he did, or let fall, any thing that may make him rationally suspected.  
In the Second State we consider only the nature of the Action: All that can be said of it, depends upon particular knowledge. In the Third State we consult Reason, Laws, Custom, Precedents, Compacts, and Equity.  
In the Demonstrative-kind, to approve an action or condemn it, we must consider the Good or the Bad. Goods in a man are to be considered three ways; in respect of his Body, in respect of his Mind, and in respect of his Estate. Goods relating to the Body are felicity of Country, nobility of Birth, advantage of Education, Health, Strength, Beauty, etc. Goods relating to the Mind are Virtue, Sagacity, Prudence, Learning, etc. Goods relating to the Estate, are Riches, Honours, Employments, Commands, etc.  
All these places proper and common to each of these three kinds, are called interior or intrinsic, to distinguish them from the Exterior which are five, that is to say the Laws, the Witnesses, the Practice, the Transactions, and the Answers of the Persons examined. The Lawyer is never put to the trouble of searching his Proofs: The Client or Solicitor puts into his Councils hands his Breviate, his Bonds, his Transactions; produces the Depositions of his Witnesses, and the answer of him that was examined.   

V.  
Reflections upon this method of Places.  
THus in few words have I shown the Art to find Arguments upon all Subjects of which the Rhetoricians are accustomed to Treat, which makes the greatest part of their Rhetoric. It is our business to judge of the usefulness of this method. My respect for those Authors who have commended it, obliges me to give you an Abridgement, that you may understand the bottom of it. It is not to be doubted but the helps accrueing from it are of some kind of use. They make us take notice of several things from whence Arguments may be drawn; they teach us how a Subject may be varied and discovered on all sides. So as those who are skilled in the Art of Topics, may find matter enough to amplify their discourse; nothing is barren to them; they speak of every thing that occurs, as largely and as oft as they please. Those who reject these Topics, do not deny their Fecundity; they grant that they supply us with infinite numbers of things; but they allege that that Fecundity is inconvenient; That the things are trivial, and by consequent the Art of Topics furnishes nothing that is fit for us to say. If an Orator (say they) understands the subject of which he treats; if he be full of incontestable Maxims that may enable him to resolve all Difficulties arising upon that subject; If it be a question in Divinity, and he be well read in the Fathers, Councils, Scriptures, etc. He will quickly perceive whether the question proposed be Orthodox, or otherwise. It is not necessary that he runs to his Topics, or passes from one common place to another, which are unable to supply him with necessary knowledge for decision of his Question. If on the other side an Orator be ignorant, and understands not the bottom of what he Treats, he can speak but superficially, he cannot come to the point; and after he has talked and argued a long time, his Adversary will have reason to admonish him to leave his tedious talk that signifies nothing; to interrupt him in this manner, Speak to the purpose; oppose Reason against my Reason, and coming to the Point, do what you can to subvert the Foundations upon which I sustain myself. Separatis locorum Communium Nugis, res cum re, ratio cum ratione, causa cum causa confligat.  
If it be urged in favour of Common-Places, that indeed they do not fully instruct us what to say upon all occasions, but they help us to the discovery of Infinite Arguments that defend and fortify one another. To this it is answered, and I am of the same Opinion, That to persuade, we need but one Argument, if it be solid and strong, and that Eloquence consists in clearing of that, and making it perspicuous. All those feeble Arguments (proper as well to the accused, as the accuser, and as useful to refel as affirm) derived from Common-places, are like ill Weeds that choke the Corn.  
This Art is dangerous for persons of but indifferent Learning, because it makes them acquiesce and sit down with small suggestions easily obtained, and neglect to seek after others of more solid Importance. A witty man speaking of the method of which Raimondus Lullius treated after a particular manner, calls it An Art of Discoursing without judgement of things we do not understand. I had rather says Cicero, be wise without Eloquence, than Eloquent without Wisdom. Mallem indisertam sapientiam, quam stultitiam loquacem. To this may be added, that in all Discourse, whatever serves not to the resolution of the Question, aught to be retrenched; and after such retrenchment I suppose very few things would remain wherewith our Topics had furnished us.    

CHAP. II.  

I.  
The Second Means to Persuade.  
IF men loved truth, and sought it sincerely; to make them entertain it, there would be no need of any thing but to propose it simply, and without art, as we have already observed; but they hate it, and because it consists not with their Interests, they do willingly blind themselves that they may not see it: They are too much lovers of themselves to be persuaded that what is disagreeable to them, is true. Before they admit any thing to be true, they will be assured it shall no way incommode them. 'Tis in vain to use powerful Arguments to persons resolved not to hear them, who look upon the truth that is offered as an Enemy to their designs, and reject her lustre, for fear it should make their wickedness conspicuous: We are constrained therefore to use the greatest part of Mankind, as we do people in a Frenzy, we conceal such Remedies as are intended for their Cure. So that the truths of which it is necessary they should be persuaded, are to be delivered with such art, that they may possess the heart before they be perceived; and as if they were Children, they are to be coaxed and flattered till they take down the Medicine that is prepared for their Cure.  
Orators acted by true zeal, are to study all possible ways of gaining their Auditors to the entertaining of truth. A fond Mother trims up her Child, and her tenderness is such, that she disposes all people (as much as in her lies) to be as fond of it as herself. If we loved truth, we should be impatient to make it appear as lovely to every body else. The Fathers of the Church have always made it their care to avoid whatever might render the Church grievous. When Jesus Christ began to preach his Gospel to the Jews, who were jealous for the Honour of Moses' Law, our Saviour (as is observed by St. Chrysostom) declares that he came not to destroy that Law, but to fulfil it. Without this they would have stopped their ears, and never have heard him.  
We have said that ancient Rhetoricians placed the Art of Persuading in the knowledge how to instruct, how to incline, and how to move an Auditory: all that was to be done, was docere, flectere, and movere. I have shown the ways that these great Masters have recommended for discovery of such things as may instruct us by illustrating the Subject upon which we are to speak. I shall here make some few reflections upon the means of insinuating into the affections of our Hearers Common Rhetoric hath none of these Reflections: So though my design was not to Treat of the Art of Speaking in its full Extent, yet I shall say more of it than those who pretend to omit nothing. 'Tis true the art of working upon an Auditory is much above the reach of a Young Scholar, for whom the ancient Rhetorics were properly made. This Art is acquired by sublime Speculations, by reflections upon the nature of our mind, upon our inclinations, and motions of our will. 'Tis the fruit of Experience and long Observation of the manner wherewith men act and govern themselves; in a word, this Art is no where to be caught so methodically as in the precepts of Morality.   

II.  
Qualities required in a person who would gain upon an Auditory.  
IT is of importance that an Auditory has an esteem for the person who speaks. An Orator is to profess and give some testimony of his Friendship to those whom he desires to persuade, and pretend it is pure zeal to their Interest that prompts him to speak. Modesty is absolutely necessary, for nothing is so invincible an obstacle to persuasion as arrogancy and boldness. Wherefore in an Orator these four Qualities are especially requisite, Probity, Prudence, Civility, and Modesty.  
It is clear our esteem for the probity and prudence of an Orator, makes many times a great part of his Eloquence, and disposes us to surrender even before we know what he will say. 'Tis doubtless the effect of great prae occupation; but that prae occupation is not amiss; nor is it to be confounded with a certain obstinate headiness that inclines us to adhere to false Opinions in spite of all Reasons to the contrary. Besides that the words of a zealous man full of ardour for the truth, kindle and inflame the hearts of the hearers, it adds great reputation to what he says, when he is looked upon as honest, and one who would not delude us; nor is it more unreasonable that we submit our judgements to their light, who are very eminent for their wisdom; so that it is more advantage for an Orator to be famous for his Virtue than his Learning. Quintilian tells us, In Oratore non tam dicendi facultas, quam honesta vivendi ratio elucescat. Christianity obliges those who are Preachers studiously to endeavour to gain this authority in the minds of their Auditory. And the same Gospel that forbids vanity and ostentation, commands that our good Works shine with intention, that others seeing our good Works, may glorify, etc. Sic luceat lux vestra coram hominibus, ut videant opera vestra bona. This necessity has prevailed some time upon the most Modest to assert their own praises, and vindicate their Reputations, when otherwise their natural modesty and meekness would rather have inclined them to sit down, and be content with the Injuries they received. A good life is the mark that Christ himself has given to discriminate betwixt the Preachers of Truth, and those who are sent by the Spirit of Error to delude and deceive us.  
W● are much pleased to spare ourselves the pains of examining an Argument, and therefore we trust it to the examination of some credible person: Auctoritati credere, magnum compendium, & nullus labour. The authority of a good, a learned, and an eminent man, is a great ease and satisfaction to any man that is diffident of his own parts. No man would willingly be deceived, yet few are able to protect themselves against Error; and therefore we are much pleased when we meet a man upon whose authority we may depend in all matters of dispute. We see many times two or three Great Men (whose Reputations for Learning have gained them universal esteem) dividing the whole World, whilst every one ranks himself on his side whom he believes the most Learned and Honest. An Orator without that authority, gains but few to his Opinion, because few are able to perceive the subtlety of his Arguments. If he would win upon the multitude, he must convince them that he has those of his side, for whom the Multitude has a great reverence and esteem.  
Nothing goes farther to the gaining a man, than marks and expressions of Friendship: Friendship gives us a right to the person beloved. We may say any thing if the person to whom we speak be convinced that we love him. Ama, & dic quod vis. Our love for truth must be disinterested and entire to receive it from the mouth of an Enemy. 'Tis not to be imagined an Enemy would be so kind as to inform us of the truth. St. Paul's Epistles are full of expressions of Affection and Tenderness for those to whom he writes; and he never reprehends them for their Faults, till he has convinced them it was his zeal for their Salvation that prompted him to those Advertisements.  
The Fourth Quality (which as I conceive is absolutely necessary in an Orator) is modesty. Many times our obstinacy and aversion to the truth, is caused only by the fierceness and arrogance wherewith an Orator would force from our own mouths an acknowledgement of our Ignorance. Why do we wrangle and quarrel in our disputes, and refuse to admit the most indisputable truths? It is because one side is impatient to triumph, and the other as obstinate to adhere and contend for a Victory that would be so dishonourable to lose. Those who are discreet suffer the eagerness of the Adversary to cool, and with such art conceal their triumph, that the vanquished person is scarce sensible of his defeat, but rather thinks himself victorious over that error to which before he was a slave. A prudent Orator is never to speak advantageously of himself. Nothing so certainly alienates the minds of his Auditors, and inflames them with sentiments of hatred and disdain, as the vanity of self-applause. Honour and Reputation is a thing to which every man pretends, and no man will suffer another to engross it: For as Quintilian well observes, we have all a principle of Ambition that will endure nothing above us. Hence it is that we love to advance those who debase themselves, because by advancing them we seem to be greater than they. Habet enim mens nostra sublime quiddam, & impatiens superioris; ideoque abjectos, & submittentes se, lubenter allevamus, quia hoc facere tanquam Majores videmus. Yet this modesty ought not to be timorous and mean; Firmness and Generosity are inseparable from our Orator's zeal in defence of the truth, which being invincible, he ought never to desert it. That man renders himself terrible, who fears nothing more than to injure the truth; so that it is not unbecoming if sometimes he exalts the advantages of his own side, which is the side of truth. To this may be added, that a discourse must be suitable to the quality of the Speaker: A King must speak with Majesty, and that which is the sign of lawful Authority in him, in a private person would be a sign of Insolence and Pride.   

III.  
What is to be observed in the things of which we Speak; and how we are to insinuate into the minds of our Auditors.  
HAving spoken of our Orator's Person, let us now see what relates to the things of which he treats. If the Auditors be not concerned, and what he says touches not too near upon their Interest, Artifice is not necessary. When we are only to prove that the three Angles of a Triangle are equal to two right Angles, there is no need of Art to dispose our hearers to believe us. Where there is no danger of prejudice to the Hearer, there is no fear of Opposition to the Speaker; but when things are proposed contrary to the interest or inclination of the Hearer, then is address most necessary: There is no way to insinuate with him but by ambages, and fetches so cunningly introduced, that he is not to perceive the truth to which we would persuade him, till he be throughly convinced, otherwise his ears will be shut, and the Orator reckoned an Enemy.  
Men are acted only by Interest, even when they seem to disclaim it; we are obliged to demonstrate that the thing we would persuade, is not for their disadvantage. We must oppose Inclination against Inclination, and to draw them to our Sentiment, serve them as Mariners do a contrary wind when they make use of it to carry them to a contrary Port. This will be better understood by an Example. To possess a Woman against Painting who loves nothing but herself, and considers nothing but her Beauty, if you will follow the advice of Saint Chrysostom, we must pretend care of her Beauty, to moderate her passion for it; and this is to be done by showing that Ceruse and Paint are prejudicial to the Face.  
A Debauched man who denys himself nothing of pleasure is taken off by proposing other pleasures more sweet, or by convincing him those pleasures will be attended with very great pains; we must connive at self-love, and propose something of Equivalence to the man whom we would persuade from his interest; for unless the Grace of God changes the heart, the Passions may change the Object, and themselves continue the same. This changing of the Object is not difficult: A proud man will do any thing you would have him to satisfy his Pride, and avoid being undervalved; so that there is nothing to which a man may not be persuaded, if we know his Inclinations, and how to make use of them.  
When we expect to obtain from those to whom we speak a thing that they have no intention to grant, though perhaps reason requires it, we must be content to receive it as a favour. This demand is not to be made abruptly, but with circumstance; and after we have clearly proved that there will remain more of Honour and advantage to them by granting, than by refusing it. Chrysostom commends the prudence of Flavianus Patriarch of Antioch, who caused the Emperor Theodosius to repeal his bloody decree against the Inhabitants of that City for having pulled down the Statues of of the Empress. The Patriarch being come to Constantinople on purpose to mollify the Emperor, aggravated the fault of the Antiochians; confessed them worthy of the highest chastisements: but at length he insinuated, that the greatness of their offence would make their pardon more gloririous, and that a Christian Prince could not (with consistence) revenge an injury with so much severity. By this means he wrought upon Theodosius, who would have rather been exasperated, had he gone about to mitigate their crime: besides it would have appeared as if he had approved their Insolence, and been an Accomplice in their Sedition.  
It is great advantage to an Orator, when his Auditors believe him of their own persuasion; which is not impossible though he endeavours to dissuade them. There is no Opinion whatever in which all things are either false or unreasonable: Without offence to the truth, we may side at first with that Opinion which we design to subvert, by commending that in it which is true, and worthy commendations. For example, a Nation revolts from its lawful Sovereign, forces the power out of his hands, and divides it among several persons deputed to Govern. Love of Liberty is reasonable and just; so our Harangue is to begin with amplifications upon Liberty, and at length insinuating into the people that Liberty is greater under a Monarchy, than under a Commonwealth, (where the Tyranny is exercised by a greater number) we gain the point, and make use of the same passion that provoked them to revolt, to reduce them to Obedience.  
With the same method of prudence we disentangle people from those for whom they have an unreasonable love, against whom great care is to be taken that we fall not into a blunt and immediate declamation. 'Tis true, O Romans, never was man more bountiful and munificent than Spurius Milus; he spent freely, presented liberally, and to oblige you was very profuse in his expenses; But have a care he be not ambitious: that his Largesses be not snares, and his Presents the price of your liberty.  
Humility is the best of Virtues; it is the companion of Innocence, and seldom to be found in a Criminal. Criminals cannot endure to be reproached by their faults, and therefore 'tis no easy matter to gain those whom we desire to correct. Nevertheless when a vicious man is effectually persuaded that his crime is pernicious; that love to his Interest is the cause of his reprehension: when he knows the Speaker to be wiser, and capable of perceiving the Consequences of his ill ways better than himself, he suffers his admonition patiently, as a man in a Gangreen suffers the amputation of the part.  
That which makes admonition many times ineffectual, is the insolence and imperiousness wherewith it is delivered. When we would correct a guilty person, and hope to reclaim him, it is enough that we display before him modestly what was his duty to have done, without upbraiding him by what he has actually done. Some things are not ill in themselves, but for want of some circumstance: Such things may be commended, but we must make it appear they were not done with due circumstances of place and of time.  
That a Criminal may not be discouraged and ashamed to acknowledge his Offence, it is not amiss to lessen and extenuate his Crime by comparing it with a greater; For fear he should obstinately persist and justify what he has done, some way is to be found out to ease him of his load: Some people are so refractory they will never condemn what once they have done. We must separate betwixt the crime and the person, and take no notice that the Offender was guilty, till we have brought him in to condemn his own Crime. This was the Prophet Nathan's Method with King David, when he desired to reprehend him for the Adultery he had committed; he complained to him against another person that was guilty of the same Crime; and when King David had passed his judgement upon the man, than Nathan took his opportunity, and admonished him that his Majesty himself was the Original, and that he himself had committed that sin which his own mouth had condemned.   

IV.  
The Qualities that we have showed to be necessary in an Orator, ought not to be counterfeit.  
I Do not doubt very ill use may be made of this Art, but that hinders not our Rules from being good. One may pretend love for his Hearers, to conceal some ill design that his hatred has prompted him to meditate against them: One may put on the face of an Honest man, only to delude those who have a reverence for the least appearance of truth; yet it follows not but we may profess love to our Auditors, and insinuate into their affections, when our love is sincere, and we have no design but the interest and propagation of truth.  
Pagan Rhetoricians have given the same precepts as we have done, and Sophisters have made use of them, which obliges us to stricter and more careful application. A wicked man is not to be more zealous for Error, than a Christian for Truth: It would be a shame that Christians should neglect their natural means for propagation of the truth, whilst wicked men are so busy and industrious to deceive. These ways are good and just in themselves, and every man that has prudence and charity makes use of them insensibly.  
How wicked soever men be, it is our duty to love them; we must have compassion for their persons, and detest only their Crimes. Diligite homines, interficite errores. Those who are really pious, have no need to counterfeit; their charity shows itself quite through their discourse; they pity the faults of other men, and bear with them patiently: They correct them gently, and reflect upon them only on that side in which they are most venial. Monitio acerbitate, objurgatio contumelia careat, says Cicero. Piety finds out ways not to disgust, not to afflict the persons to be reprehended; Piety moderates correction, and with honey-words sweetens the bitterness of her discipline: In a word, piety does for God whatever self-love and interest does for man: So that the outward conduct of the one, appears the same with the outward conduct of the other, their manners of acting being distinguished only by their principles. A good Christian has no less Complaisance for those whom he would persuade, without any design but propagation of the truth, than a worldling has for those from whom he looks for a recompense.  
When I said we were not to disgust our Auditors, I did not advise that we should use only a slight complaisance proceeding from a vain satisfaction we take in not being repulsed; Men love those things that entertain them with delight, Loquere nobis placenta: It is the business of a flatterer to entertain people of that delicate humour. While a Christian Preacher has hopes of gaining upon his Auditors by gentleness, 'tis his duty to use it; but when they are hardened, and will not lay down those arms which they have taken up against truth, it would not be charity, but flattery to indulge them: When prayers avail nothing, our recourse must be to menace.  
The conduct used always by the Fathers, was to begin mildly; but if that mildness was ineffectual, to conclude with severity. St. Austin tells us, that in his first Books wrote against Pelagius, he would not mention his Name, that he might not leave him upon Record for the author of a Heresy: But when he found the Heretic insensible of that Gentleness, and that it did but contribute to the making him worse, he thought the same charity that had prompted him to mildness at first, obliged him then to remedies more violent, and proportionable to the distemper of that Heretic; considering that if they did not cure him, they would at least give alarm to the people, and let them know the danger of his communication.    

CHAP. III.  

I.  
It is lawful to excite in those to whom we Speak, such passions as may conduct them according to our designs.  
THe third Means an Orator is to use, is the art of exciting such passions in the minds of his auditory as may bend and incline them to what side he pleases. He is likewise to study the secret of extinguishing such heats as may divert the ears or affections of his auditors. But it will be Objected, That 'tis unlawful to use so unjust means as the passions. That 'tis but ill practice to regulate and clear the mind of an auditor, to raise fumes of passion which will rather choke and obfuscate it. We will reply to this Objection, as a thing worthy to be considered.  
Passions are good in themselves; 'tis extravagance that makes them faulty. There are motions of the Soul which incline it to good, and divert it from evil: which push it on to the acquisition of the one; and prick it forward when it is too dull and lazy to escape from the other. Thus far there is no evil in passion; but when men follow their false Ideas of Good and Evil, and love nothing but the World, the Passions which were good in their nature, become bad by contagion of the object upon which they are turned. Who can doubt but our Passions are bad, when in the Idea of the word Passion we comprehend the motions of the Sold with all its irregularities. If by Choler we intent the Rages, the Raptures, the Transports that trouble our Reason it must be confefsed that Choler is an ill thing: But if we take it for a motion or affection of the Soul, that animates against the impediments which retard us in the possession of any good; If we take it for a certain force or power enabling us to contend and conquer such evils; I cannot see how any man can reasonably think it lawful to excite that Choler, and make use of its efficacy to encourage his auditors in quest of that Good which he proposes to them.  
In our most exorbitant passions; in those whose objects seem nothing but false and pretended good; there is always something that is really good. Is it not a good thing to love him that is handsome, great, magnificent, or noble? We may then make use of a motion that carries on towards beauty and grandeur, and by so doing puts us in action. We may without the least scruple awaken this motion in the mind of our auditory by displaying the grandeur and beauty of the thing to which we persuade them, because it is supposed we will recommend nothing▪ but what is worthily great, and what is really beautiful.  
Men are not to be acted, but by motion of their passions: Every man is carried away by what he loves, and follows that which gives him most pleasure: For which reason there is no other natural way of prevailing upon men, than this we have proposed. You shall never divert a Covetous man from his avarice, and immoderate inclination to money, but by giving him hopes of other Riches of more prodigious value. You shall never persuades a Voluptuous man from his pleasures, but by the fear of some impending disease, or hopes of some greater delight. Whilst we are without passion, we are without action; and nothing moves us from this indifference, but the agitation of some passion. The passions may be called the Springs of the Mind; when an Orator knows how to possess himself of these Springs, and how to manage them wisely▪ nothing is hard to him, there is nothing but he can persuade.  
Christian's will confess that so many illustrious Martyrs have triumphed over death, and tortures, only by the support they received from Heaven: that so many Nuns and Holy Virgins have sustained with their weak bodies a life full of austerities, and as it were worn out with strictness of penance, only by assistance of the Divine Grace: But it is clear the most wicked are capable of the same actions, and can do whatever was done either by the Holy Virgins or Martyrs, if it falls out that they cannot satisfy their predominant Passion, but by suffering those pains. Catiline was a very ill man, yet in his Life we may observe examples of extraordinary austerity and patience; but his pretended Virtue was only subservient to his ambition: So I make this reflection only to prove that a man is wholly in our power, when we are able to stir in him such Passions as are proper for our design: and therefore a propugner of the truth is not to neglect so efficacious a means.  
Saint Austin advised the Sinner very well, when he bid him do that for fear of punishment which he would not do for love of justice: Fac timore paenae, quod nondum potes amore justitiae. It would not be difficult to make a painted Dame abhor paint, by convincing her that it is an enemy to the face: the fear of that would possibly affright her from it sooner than the love of God. This fear is not without sin: But at length the Fathers approved this holy artifice, by the use they made of it. Great confusions must be opened; an Impostume must be cured by Incision: This practice may easily be justified, but this is not a convenient place.   

II.  
What is to be done to excite the Passions.  
THe common way of affecting the heart of Man, is to give him a lively sense and impression of the object of that passion wherewith we desire he should be moved. Love is an affection excited in the Soul by the sight of a present good. To kindle this affection in a heart capable of loving, we must present him with an object of amiable qualities. Fear has for its object not only certain evil, but evil contingent. To fright a timorous person, we need no more than to make him sensible of the Evils that threaten him. It is not without reason that the arts of persuading and well-speaking are not separated; for the one serves for little without the other. To stir and affect the Soul of a man, it suffices not to give him a bare representation of the object of that passion wherewith we would animate him; we must display all the riches of our Eloquence to give him an ample and sensible delineation that may strike it home, and leave an impression, not like those phantasms that slide by suddenly before our eyes, and are seen no more. To dispose a man to Love it is not sufficient to tell him bluntly the thing we propose is amiable; we must convince him of its good qualities, make him sensible of them by frequent and effectual descriptions; we must represent them with all their faces, that if they prevail not by their appearances on one side, they may not fail by being displayed on the other: We must animate ourselves, and (if I may so say) kindle a flame in our hearts, that it may be like a hot Furnace from whence our words may proceed full of that fire which we would kindle in the hearts of other people.  
To treat exactly of this Subject, I should be obliged to speak at large of the nature of passions, to explain them every one particularly; to tell what are their several Objects, what raises, and what assuages them: But this would be to stuff into this art both Natural and Moral Philosophy, which cannot be done without confusion. Nevertheless I cannot excuse myself from speaking more exactly of some of the Passions, that is to say, of Admiration; Esteem; Contempt; and Laughter, which are of great use in the Art of Persuasion.  
Admiration is a motion of the Mind, that converts it upon some extraordinary Object, and inclines it to consider whether the said Object be good or bad, that it may either pursue, or avoid it. It is of Importance to an Orator to excite this Passion in the mind of his Auditory. Truth persuades, but first it must be known; and that it may be known, it is necessary he to whom we declare it, applies himself to understand it. We see every day many Arguments rejected, that are afterwards approved, because at that time we were not at leisure to examine them. There are several Opinions that after they have been neglected, and lain dormant several Ages, have revived again, and made a noise in the World, because they are studied, and by studying it is that we know the truth or falsity of them.  
'Tis not enough therefore to produce good arguments, to deliver them with clearness and perspicuity; but we must use them with extraordinary address, that may surprise the hearer, make him admire and draw the eyes of the whole world upon us. I have read in a certain Author, of a witty Man who having often presented himself before his Prince about some affair that concerned him very much, the Prince never vouchsafing him so much as a look; he resolved the next time to present himself naked, covered only with some few Figg-leaves. And it succeeded as he designed; for the oddness of his habit having stirred the curiosity of the Prince, and carried him to him to inquire who he was, he took occasion to make answer, and by degrees found opportunity to propose that to him, which before he had attempted in vain.  
Saint chrysostom observes that Saint Matthew begins his History of our Saviour by saying he was the Son of David, and of Abraham, (whereas he should have said Abraham and David▪) to oblige the Jews to read his History with more attention; for the Jews expected the Messiah from the Line of David: and therefore nothing was more like to win upon their attention, than to speak to them of a Son of David. All Books that are read, all Orators that are heard, have something or other extraordinary, either in the matter or manner of what they treat, or in the circumstance of time and of place.  
Admiration is followed by esteem, or contempt. When we observe any thing good in the Object on which we look with Application, we esteem it, we desire it, we love it. For this reason, as you see, we esteem nothing properly, but what is true, what is great, and what is handsome. When we value ill things, it is either because we are deceived in our judgements, or because we consider them only according to appearance. A deceitful Orator persuades only for a time, and the esteem and love of his Auditors, turns into hatred and contempt, as soon as they find themselves deluded.  
The Object of Contempt is meanness and error; that Passion is never excited but when the Soul perceives nothing in its Object, but meanness and error. To this Passion we do willingly incline; it is pleasing, and flatters the ambition that men have naturally for superiority and grandeur. We do not properly contemn any but those who we look upon as Inferiors. We look down upon them with divertisement, whereas it is troublesome to lift up our eyes in contemplation of what is above us. Other Passions spend and disturb us, but this refreshes, and is useful to our health; and indeed this passion may be called rather the repose than commotion of the Soul, because the Soul seems quiet and at ease in this passion, though in others it labours and is disturbed.  
Yet all contempt is not pleasing, for if the evil that is its object be dreadful, it affects us with fear, which is really an affliction; but where the Evil touches us not too near, and concerns us not too much, the contempt that follows is accompanied with laughter, and so commonly accompanied with great and unexpected joy. There is no way so effectual for the turning a man from an Error, as to make it appear contemptible. There is nothing we apprehend more, than to be rendered ridiculous and contemptible to the world. Therefore a seasonable piece of Raillery has sometimes better effect than the solidest Argument.  
— Ridiculum acri,  
Fortius & melius magnas plerumque secat res.  
When we fight with strong Reasons, the trouble the adversary finds to conceive the consequence of a solid Argument, confounds him: When we propose to him any thing that is high, that height dazzles and discourages him. But when his business is only to laugh and be merry, he applies himself readily, that application gives him entertainment; and his contempt of the thing that is represented as ridiculous, flatters his vanity, and makes him look down upon the object as a thing infinitely beneath him. For this reason we easily excite this contempt, because men are more prone to it naturally than to esteem, as they are to sports rather than to work. To this may be added, that several things are fit to be laughed at, for fear we should give them weight and reputation by confuting them soberly.   

III.  
How things worthy to be laughed at are to be made ridiculous.  
SInce it is allowed us to stir and provoke the Passions, thereby to excite men to action, the art which we teach of turning things into ridicule is not to be blamed, especially when by so doing our design is only to reclaim and instruct our auditors; but then if these Raillery's be not done with discretion, they will have a quite contrary effect. The Poets in their Comedy's pretend to mock people out of their Vices; yet their pretensions are vain, experience making too evident that a Reader of this sort of Plays, never made any serious conversion. The cause is plain, we despise and laugh at only such things as we think below us, and such as are but trifles in our estimation. We laugh not at the ill treatment of the Innocent: If Licentious persons make a mock of Adultery, and such Offences as will force tears from a pious man, 'tis because they have not a true notion of those Crimes, and consider them amiss.  
Poets in their Comaedies labour not to give an aversion for Vice, their business is only to make it ridiculous; so they accustom their Readers to look upon Debauches as inconsiderable Offences. From a Play we shall never receive that horror that is necessary to deter our Concupiscence; the fear of being laughed at will never discourage our inclinations to pleasure: and we see Debauched persons are the first will laugh at their own extravagancies. There are Vices to be suppressed only by oblivion and silence, of which modesty and good-breeding will not permit us to speak. The descriptions of an Adulterer never made any man chaste, and yet those sort of Crimes are generally the subject of Comedy's.  
The Orator is likewise to keep his Decorum, and omit in his Raillery's such things as modesty recommends rather to our silence. If we be prudent and honest, there will be no need of advertising that we are carefully to avoid unseasonable & ridiculous buffonory's; and to consider that nothing but ill things are fit to be derided: If the Evil we would describe be pernicious and great, we are rather to render it horrid and detestable. Nevertheless in declaiming against great offences, we may begin with Raillery's, if it be but to draw attention from the hearers, which indeed is the chief end of those things, and that which obliges me to set down some Rules how we are to turn things of that nature into Ridicule.  
Laughter being a motion excited in the Soul, when after it has been struck with the sight of an extraordinary obobject, she perceives it very little; to render a thing ridiculous we must find out some rare and extraordinary way of representing its vileness. No particular Precepts can be given for Raillery's. Those, says Cicero, who would give directions for the laughing at other people, would be laughed at themselves. And yet all tricks and extraordinary ways are proper, and may be used upon that occasion, that is▪ to discover the meanness of that object we would render contemptible. Wherefore the Ironia is of great use in these cases; For speaking quite contrary to our thoughts in terms extraordinary and inconvenient with the thing of which we speak, this disposition makes us observe it more effectually. When we call a Rascal Honest man, that expression remembers us that he is quite another thing. We cannot better convince a man he is a Coward, than by putting into his hands a Sword that he has not courage to use in his defence. So Isaiah drolled with the Prophets of Samaria, when with great yells and cries they begged of their Idol, that it would send down fire from Heaven to consume their Sacrifice. Isaiah told them, You must cry louder, perhaps your God does not hear you; it may be he is in discourse with other people; it may be he is at home; it may be he is upon the Road; it may be asleep, and cannot be awaked but by more than ordinary noise. And this way of speaking of this Idol being unusual, made it appear impotent and mean.  
Allusions are likewise proper for Raillery's, because the difficulty of understanding them makes us apply more seriously to the finding out the sense, and that application causes us to discover it more clearly. So also when we have applauded a thing that we intent should be ridiculous, and have advanced it by magnificent expressions that raise an expectation of some great matter, if on a sudden we discover its meanness, it is manifest the surprise makes the hearer attentive, and by consequence more sensible of what is said.  
If we lay a thing open, and leave it quite naked, by divesting it of all such qualities as may recommend it to our esteem, we make that thing infallibly ridiculous. Lucian relates nothing of the Gods, and the Sages of Greece, but what the Adorers of the one, and the admirers of the other, have published in their Panegyrics: Yet Lucian in his Writings renders them Ridiculous, because he divests the Gods of the Gentiles, and the Wisemen of Greece, of those imaginary qualities which the Ancients admired in both▪ wherefore we cannot read his Books without conceiving a contempt for the Religion and vain wisdom of the Greeks. Besides, the very nature of Dialogues (which is Lucian's way of writing) is very proper to discover the Vileness of any thing we would abuse: by making every one speak according to the principles he follows, thereby we make them their own Informers, and publish whatever in them is either ridiculous or mean.    

CHAP. IU.  

I.  
The Disposition and Parts of which a Discourse is to be composed. Of the Exordium.  
EFfectually to Persuade, we must first dispose our Auditors to a favourable attention of what we have to say. Next we are to give them intimation of our business, that they may have some notion of what we are about. It is not enough to assert and produce proofs of our own, but we must refel the arguments of our Adversary: When a Discourse has been long, and 'tis to be feared part of what has been said at large, may have escaped the memory of the hearer, 'tis convenient at the end of our Harangue in few words to sum up what has been delivered at length. So a Discourse is properly to consist of five parts, the entrance, or exordium; the Narration or Proposition of the thing of which we speak; the Proof in confirmation of what we affirm; the Refutation of what is alleged by the adversary, in opposition; and the Epilogue, or recapitulation of all that has passed through the whole Body of the Discourse. I shall speak of these five parts distinctly.  
An Orator in his Exordium is to respect three things, the favour, the attention, and the capacity of his hearers. We gain much upon our auditors, and insinuate strangely into their favour, when at the entrance into our Discourse we assure them that what we speak is out of our sincere zeal to the truth, and for advantage of the Public: We work upon their attention when we begin with what is most Noble and most Illustrious in the Subject of which we speak, and what is most likely to excite a desire of hearing the rest of our Discourse.  
A Hearer is susceptible when he loves, and listens to what we say. Love opens his mind, and clearing it from all prae-occupations with which we harken to an adversary, she disposes it for the reception of the truth. Attention makes him penetrate the most obscure things: There is nothing lies so close, but will be discovered to a diligent and assiduous man, who makes it his business to inquire into such things as he is ambitious to know.  
I have said before, that 'tis good at first to surprise our auditors with something that is lofty and noble; but we are likewise to be careful that we promise no more than we are able to perform; and that after we have soared and mounted up to the Clouds, we be not forced to come down, and crawl upon the ground. An Orator beginning too high, raises in the hearts of his Hearers a certain Jealousy that disposes them to criticise, and gives them a design not to excuse him, if he flags in his Tone. Modesty is better at first, and gains more upon an auditory.   

II.  
PROPOSITION.  
SOmetimes we begin our Discourse by proposing the Subject of it without an Exordium, which is to be done so as the justice of the cause we defend may appear in the said Proposition that consists only in the declaration of what we are to say, and by consequence admits no Rules for its length. When we are to speak only of a question, it suffices to propose it, and that requires but few words: When we are to speak of an action, or rhing done, we are to recite the whole action, report all its circumstances, and make a description of it, that may lay it before the eyes of the Judges, and enable them to determine as exactly as if they had been present when the action was done.  
Some there are who to make an action appear as they would have it▪ do not scruple to clothe it with circumstances favourable to their designs, though contrary to the truth; and they fancy they may do it, because their pretence is to advance the truth, by augmenting the goodness of their Cause. It is not necessary I should confute the falseness of this persuasion; for 'tis clear, that if it be contradictory to truth, we make use of a lie; it is an ill thing, because we deviat from the end of Speech, which was given us to express the truth of our Sentiments, though against truth itself; and when we equivocate for truth, we do that which is displeasing to her, because she needs not equivocation to defend herself.  
We ought therefore to deliver things simply as they are, and be cautious of inserting any thing that may dispose the Judges to give wrong Judgement. There is no affair but has several faces, some agreeable that please, others disagreeable that discourage and disgust our hearers. It is the part of a skilful Orator to propose nothing that may beget in the hearer a disadvantageous opinion of what is to follow.  
An Orator is to select the circumstances of the action he proposes, and not enlarge equally upon them all. Some are to be passed in silence, others to be touched by the by. When we are to be obliged to report an ill circumstance, that may discommend the action we would defend, we are not to pass it over and proceed, till we have applied some remedy to the evil impression that recitation may make, for we must not leave our auditors in any ill opinion that they may conceive thereupon. We must subjoin some reason or circumstance to change the face of the former, and present in less odious. You must relate the particulars of his death who was killed, to justify the person you would defend: Being to speak only in the behalf of an innocent person, at the same time when you relate the manner of the others death, you must add the just causes of his death, and make it appear that he who killed him, did it by misfortune, or accident, without any design. We must therefore praeoccupy the mind of the Judges, and prepare them with all the reasons, occasions, and circumstances that may justify the action, that when it is related, they may be disposed to examine it, and confess that there was only an appearance of Crime; and that in effect it was just, because accompanied with all the Circumstances that render such▪ actions innocent. This Artifice is not only lawful, but it would be a fault to omit it. We must have a care of rendering verity odious by our imprudence; and certainly it would be great imprudence to deliver things in such manner as may dispose our hearers to give rash judgement. Men do take their impressions immediately, and pursue their first judgements, and therefore it is of importance to prevent them.  
Rhetoricians require three things in a Narration; that it be short, clear, and probable. It is short, when we say all that is necessary, and nothing more. We are not to judge of the brevity of a Narration by the number of words, but by the exactness in saying nothing superfluous. Clearness follows this exactness; impertinences do but stuff up a History, and hinder the action from being exactly represented to the mind. It is not hard for a good Orator to make what he says probable, because nothing is so like the truth that he defends, as truth itself; and yet for this some Cunning is required, some Circumstances are of that nature, that delivered nakedly and alone, they would become suspected, and would not be believed unless backed and sustained by other circumstances: Wherefore to make a Narration appear true (as it is in effect) those Circumstances are not to be forgot.   

III.  
Of Confirmation or Establishment of Proofs, and of Refutation.  
THe Rules we are to follow to establish by solid Argument the truth we would defend, and to subvert the fallacy opposed to that truth, belong properly to Logic, from thence it is we are to learn to argue. Yet here we may give some Rules.  
First we are to consider the Subject upon which we are to speak; we are to mind and observe all its parts, that we may find out what course we are to steer for the discovery either of the truth, or the fallacy. This Rule is not to be practised but by those who have great latitude of understanding; by those who are exercised in the solution of Problems, and in penetrating the most occult things; by those who are so well versed in affairs of that nature, that as soon as a difficulty is proposed to them, though never so intricat, they can immediately find out the knot, and having their minds full of light and of truth, discover without trouble the incontestable Principles to prove the concealed verity of things, and to convince those of fallacy that are false.  
The Second Rule respects the clearness of the Principles upon which we ground our Argument. The source of all false Arguments that are used by men, is our easy and rash supposition that things doubtful are true. We suffer ourselves to be dazzled by a false lustre that we perceive not, till we find we are precipitated in great absurdities, and obliged to consent to Propositions evidently false.  
The Third Rule respects the Connexion of Principles examined with the Consequences drawn from them. In an exact Argument the Principles and the Consequences are joined so strictly, that having granted the Principles, we are obliged to consent to the Consequence, because the Principles and the Consequence are the same thing; so what we cannot reasonaby deny in the one what we have confessed in the other. If I grant it lawful to repel force by force, and to take away the life of my Enemy, when I find no other means of preserving my own; when it is proved to me that Milo in killing Clodius, did but repel force by force, I am obliged to acknowledge that Milo is innocent; because in effect allowing the Proposition, That it is lawful to repel one force by another, I confess that Milo is innocent of the death of Clodius, who would have taken away the life Milo. The Connexion betwixt that Principle and that Consequence being manifestly clear.  
There is great difference betwixt the argumentation of a Geometrician, and an Orator. Maxims in Geometry depend upon a small number of Principles: The proofs of an Orator cannot be illustrated but by great number of Circumstances that fortify one another, and being separated, would not be capable of convincing. In the most solid Arguments, there are always some difficulties that afford matter of Controversy to those who are obstinate, and are not to be convinced but by multitude of words, and by clearing of all the difficulties and objections that may be made. An Orator is to imitate a Soldier fight with his enemy. The Soldier is not satisfied with drawing his Sword, he strikes, and watches to take the first advantage that is given: He moves up and down to avoid the insults of his Enemy, and in a word assumes all the postures that Nature and practice have taught him for invasion or defence. The Geometrician lays down his proofs, and that is sufficient.  
There are certain tricks and ways of proposing an Argument, that are as effectual as the Argument itself, which oblige the Hearer to attention; which make him perceive the strength of a Reason; which augment its force; which dispose the mind; prepare it to receive the truth; disentangle it from its first Passions, and supply it with new. Those who understand the Mystery of Eloquence, do not demur or amuse themselves with throngs of Arguments; they make choice of one that is good, and manage it as follows. They do solidly lay down the Principle of their Argument; they make it as clear and perspicuous as possible. They show the connexion betwixt the Principle and Consequence deduced from it, and desire to demonstrate it. They remove all obstacles that may hinder the hearer from being persuaded: They repeat their Reasons so oft, that we cannot escape from its efficacy: They represent their design with so many faces, that we cannot but own it, and they work it so effectually into our minds, that at last it becomes absolute Master.  
The Precepts of common Rhetoricians touching Proofs, and Refutations, are not considerable: Rhetoricians advise us to place our strongest Arguments in the Van and Front of our Discourse; our weakest Arguments in the Battle, and keep some few of our best Arguments as Reserves. The natural Order to be observed in the disposition of Arguments; is to place them in such sort that they may serve as steps to an Auditory to arrive at the truth, and make among themselves a kind of chain to stop those whom we would reduce to the truth.  
Refutation requires no peculiar Rules: When we are able to demonstrate a truth, we can easily discover an Error, and make it appear. That which we have said of the care an Orator ought to have to demonstrate the force of his Principles, and their connexion with the Consequences deduced, ought equally to be understood of the care we are to take to make the false Principles of our Adversary remarkable; or if their Principles be true, to make their Consequences appear false and unnatural.   

IV.  
Of the Epilogue, and other Parts in the Art of Persuasion.  
AN Orator who apprehends the things that he says, may slip from the memory of his Auditors, is obliged to repeat them before he gives over. 'Tis possible those to whom he speaks are distracted and perplexed for some time; and the multitude of things that he has proffered, has not had room in their minds. It is fit therefore that he repeats what he said before, and contracts all into such an abridgement as may not be burdensome to the memory. Great number of words, amplifications, and repetitions are only for better explication of things, and to render them more perspicuous. Wherefore after we have convinced our Auditors of the truth of our Proposition, and made them understand it clearly▪ that the Conviction may be lasting; we must contrive that our Auditory may not lose the memory of our Arguments. To do this, our abridgement and repetition mentioned before, aught to be made in a brisk way, but not so as to be troublesome. We must at the same time awaken the motions that we have excited, and as I may so say, unbind the wounds that we made: But reading of Orators (among whom Cicero is excellent for Epilogues) will give you a better notion (than my words) of the address and cunning to be used in ramasing and contracting in the Epilogue, what in the body of our Discourse was more large and difuse.  
I shall now finish this discourse, in which my design was to give an Image or Idea of the Art of Persuasion. There still remains for Explication three parts of this Art, Elocution, or the manner of disposing our Matter; Memory and Pronunciation: Of Elocution I have writ a whole Treatise: Memory all the world knows is a gift of Nature, not to be improved by any thing but exercise; for which no Precepts need to be given: and Pronuuciation is of such advantage to an Orator, that it deserves to be treated on at large; for there is a Rhetoric in the eye, the motion and air of the Body, that persuades as much as Arguments. When an Orator with this air begins his Harangue, we comply immediately: Many Sermons well pronounced are well received, which ill pronounced would be despised. Men are generally content with the appearance of things. Those who deliver themselves with a firm and emphatical tone, and are graceful in their Mine, are sure to prevail. Few persons make use of their Reason; common recourse is to the Sense. We examine not what an Orator says, but judge of him by our eyes and our ears: If he satisfies their eyes, and pleases their ears, he shall be certain of the hearts of his auditory. The necessity of taking advantage of our weakness, obliges an Orator (if he be zealous for the truth) not to despise Pronunciation. We have certainly many defects; Postures that are indecent, ridiculous, affected, mean, and not to be suffered: There are likewise Imperfections in the Voice, that are tiresome and unpleasant to the Ear. 'Tis not necessary that we particularise, every man daily observes them. Every Passion has its peculiar tone, its peculiar gesture, its peculiar Mine, which if good or bad, make a good or a bad Orator: If good, they contribute not a little to the conception of what we would persuade, and the pains that we take to pronounce things well, will neither be vain nor unprofitable. But in Books or Writing it will be more vain. Rules for Pronunciation cannot be well taught, but by experience and practice.  
FINIS.     

THE TABLE OF CHAPTERS.  

The First Part.  

CHAP. I.  
I. THe Organs of the Voice; how Speech is formed. p. 1.  
II. Before we Speak, we are to form a Scheme in our minds of what we are to say. p. 5.  
III. To mark the difference of our Thoughts, there is need of Words of different Orders. p. 8.  
IV. Of Noun Substantives, Adjectives, and Articles. p▪ 12.  
V. How we can mark the references that things have among themselves. p. 15.   

CHAP. II.  
I. Of the Nature of Verbs. p. 18.  
II. Of Pronouns, and that we may with one single Verb express a whole Proposition. p. 20.  
III. Of the Tenses of Verbs. p. 22.  
IV. That Verbs have a power of signifying divers ways of affirming, and certain circumstances of the action that they signify. p. 25.  
V. What Words are necessary to denote the other Operations of our mind. p. 28.  
VI Construction of Words, and Rules for that Construction. p. 31.   

CHAP. III.  
I. That we must express all the principal Ideas or touches in the Picture that we have form in our mind. p. 35.  
II. What ought to be the order or disposition of our words. p. 40.  
III. How we may express our Passions. p. 46.   

CHAP. IU.  
I. Custom is the Master of Language. p. 50.  
II. There is a good Custom and a bad; three ways to distinguish them. p. 53.  
III. Words are to be used only in their proper signification, and to express the Idea to which custom has annexed them. p. 60.  
IV. We are to consider whether the Ideas of words that are joined, may be joined also. p. 62.  
V. It is choice of Expression that makes a man elegant. p. 66.    

The Second Part.  

CHAP. I.  
I. There is no Language so copious and rich to furnish terms capable of expressing all the different Faces under which the mind can represent one and the same thing; therefore recourse must be had to certain ways of Speaking called Tropes, whose Nature and Invention is explained in this Chapter. p. 69.  
II. A List of the most considerable sort of Tropes. p. 72.   

CHAP. II.  
I. Of the good use of Tropes, they ought to be clear. p. 82.  
II. Our Tropes must be proportioned to the Ideas that we would give. p. 87.  
II. Tropes are an Ornament in Discurse. p. 90.   

CHAP. III.  
I. The Passions have a peculiar Language; Expressions that are the characters of Passions are called Figures. p. 92.  
II. Figures are useful and necessary. p. 95.  
III. A List of Figures. p. 101.  
IV. The number of Figures is infinite, and every Figure may be made a hundred several ways. p. 123.   

CHAP. IU.  
I. Figures are the Arms of the Soul: A parallel betwixt a Soldier fight, and an Orator speaking. p. 125.  
II. The Consequence of our Parallel betwixt a Soldier fight, and an Orator pleading in defence of a Cause. p. 130.  
III. Figures illustrate obscure truths, and make the mind attentive. p. 135.  
IV. Reflection upon the good use of Figures. p. 142.    

The Third Part.  

CHAP. I.  
I. Of Sounds and Letters, of which words are composed. p. 105.  
II. What is to be avoided in ranging our words. p. 114.  
III. In speaking, the voice does frequently repose; we may commit three faults in misplacing the repose of the voice. p. 121.  
IV. Too frequent repartition of the same sounds, the same letters, and the same words, is troublesome: The means to render pronunciation in discourse, equal. p. 127.   

CHAP. II.  
I. Words are sounds; conditions necessary to make sounds agreeable: The first condition; A violent sound is disagreeable; a moderate sound pleaseth. p. 132.  
II. The second condition; A sound aught to be distinct, that is strong enough to be heard. p. 133.  
III. The equality of sounds contributes to render them distinct, which is the third condition. p. 134.  
IV. The fourth condition; Diversity is as necessary as equality to render sounds agreeable. p. 136.  
V. The fifth condition: The precedent conditions are to be allied. p. 138.  
VI The sixth condition; The alliance of equality and diversity ought to be sensible: what is to be observed in order thereunto. p. 139.  
VII. What the ear distinguishes in the sound of words, and what it perceives with pleasure. p. 140.   

CHAP. III.  
I. The art to render pronunciation agreeable, is to be used with discretion. p. 144.  
II. How we are to distribute the intervals of respiration, that the reposes of the voice may be proportionable. p. 147.  
III. The composition of Periods. p. 150.  
IV. Examples of some few Latin periods: Periods are pronounced with ease p. 154.  
V. The figurative ranging of words, and in what these Figures consist. p. 157.  
VI Reflections upon these Figures. p. 162.   

CHAP. IU.  
I. Of the measure of time in pronunciation. p. 164.  
II. Of the structure of Verse. p. 167.  
III. How the Latins distinguish their measures. How many sorts of measures there are in the structure of a Verse. p. 170.  
IV. Equality of Measures. p. 175.  
V. Of the Variety of measures, and the alliance of their equality with that variety. p. 180.  
VI How the Romans made the alliance of the equality and variety of their Verse, sensible. p. 185.  
VII. Of the Poetry of the French. p. 187.   

CHAP. V.  
I. There is a strange sympathy betwixt Numbers and the Soul: What Numbers are. p. 202  
II. When Numbers agree with the things expressed, they render our discourse more lively and significative. p. 206.  
III. The way of joining our discourse by Numbers that correspond to the things signified. p. 209.    

The Fourth Part.  

CHAP. I.  
I. We must choose a style suitable to the matter of which we treat. What Style is. p. 1.  
II. The qualities of the style depend upon the qualities of the imagination, memory, and judgement of the writer. p. 4.  
III. The advantage of a good imagination. p. 7.  
IV. Qualities of the substance of the brain, and in the animal spirits, necessary to make a good imagination. p. 9  
V. The advantage of a good memory. p. 13.  
VI Qualities in the mind necessary to make a man eloquent. p. 14.  
VI Diversity of inclinations alter the styles: Each age, each climate has its several style. p. 19   

CHAP. II.  
I. The matter of which we treat, aught to determine us in the choice of our style. p. 22.  
II. Rules for the sublime lofty style. p. 25.  
III. Of the plain simple style. p. 32.  
IV. Of the moderate style. p. 34.   

CHAP. III.  
I. Of styles proper to certain things; Qualities common to all these styles. p. 36.  
II. What ought to be the style of an Orator. p. 41.  
III. What ought to be the style of an Historian. p. 46.  
IU. What ought to be the Dogmatical style. p. 48.  
V. What ought to be the style of a Poet. p. 52.   

CHAP. IU.  
I. The beauty of discourse is the effect of exact observation of the Rules speaking. p. 59▪  
II. The false Idea that men have of grandeur, and their desire to speak nothing but great things, is the cause of ill ornaments. p. 63.  
III. Of artificial ornaments, and rules relating to them. p. 70.  
IV. The former fable refuted, and the true original of languages declared. p. 77.    

A Discourse Presenting an Idea of the Art of Persuasion.  

CHAP. I.  
I. The parts of the Art of Persuasion. p. 88  
II. The invention of Proofs. p. 91.  
III. Of Common Places. p. 94.  
IV. Of places proper to certain subjects. p. 99  
V. Reflection upon the method of places. p. 103.   

CHAP. II.  
I. A second means to persuade. p. 107.  
II. Qualities required in an Orator who would allure those to whom he speaks. p. 110.  
III. What is to be observed in things upon which we speak, and in what manner we are to insinuate into our Auditors. 117▪  
IU. The qualities that we have shown to be necessary in an Orator, ought not to be counterfeit. p. 124.   

CHAP. III.  
I. 'Tis lawful to excite such passion in our hearers, as may carry them as we design. p. 128.  
II. What is to be done to excite these passions. p. 133.  
III. How we may make such things contemptible as are fit to be laughed at. p. 141▪   

CHAP. IU.  
I. Of the disposition of those parts that make up a discourse. Of the Exordium. p. 147.  
II. Proposition. p. 150.  
III. Of Confirmation, or establishment of proofs; and at the same time of Refutation. p. 155.  
IV. Of the Epilogue, and other parts of the Art of persuasion. p. 161.     

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