The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Preface
• Key to Abbreviations and References
• Introduction
• 1.: The Manuscript
• 2.: The Lectures
• 3.: Considerations Concerning the First Formation of Languages
• 4.: Rhetoric and Literary Criticism
• 5.: System and Aesthetics
• Bibliographical Note
• Lectures On Rhetoric and Belles Lettres: Lecture 2D.
• Lecture 3D.: Of the Origin and Progress of Language 1
• Lecture 4tha
• Lecture 5. A
• Lecture 6.THA: Of What Is Called the Tropes and Figures of Speech. B
• Lecture. 7. A
• Lecture. 8. A
• Lecture. 9tha
• Lecture. 10tha
• Lecture. 11 a
• Lecture. 12.THA: Of Composition
• Lecture. 13 a
• | Lecture. 14 a
• Lecture 15tha
• Lecture. 16th. a
• Lecture XVII. A
• Lecture Xviii a
• Lecture. Xixth. a
• Lecture. XX.THA
• Lecture Xxist. a
• Lecture Xxiida
• Lecture Xxiiida
• Lecture Xxivtha
• Lecture XXV. A
• Lecture Xxvitha
• Lecture Xxvii a
• Lecture Xxviiitha
• Lecture Xxix a
• Lecture. Xxx a
• Considerations Concerning the First Formation of Languages,&c. &c.1
• Appendix 1 (see P. 32) the Bee, Or Literary Weekly Intelligencer, For Wednesday, May 11, 1791.
• Appendix 2 Table of Corresponding Passages

Lecture. 7. ^a

Wednesday Dec.^r 1^st 1762

Besides those tropes and fig<ure>s as they are called, of which we treated in the last lecture, there are others that consist either in the meaning the word is taken in or in the arangement of the words. The 1^st they call figuræ verborum,^b the 2^d figuræ sententiarum. 1 When we use a fem<inine> for a mascu<line> or even give an other gender to a neuter, this is a figura verborum. Figuræ senten<tiarum>, on the other hand, are such as imperative, interogative or exclamatory phrases. But these as we observed above give no beauty of their own, they only are agreable and beautifull when they suit the sentiment and express in the neatest manner the way in which the speaker is affected. | 74 When the common form of speech ^c well enoug<h> describes the thing we want to make known or sufficiently communicates our sentiments, yet perhaps it does not express clearly and with sufficient life the manner we ourselves regard it. If in this case the fig<urative> way of speaking is more suited to our purpose, then it surely ought to be used preferably to the other. But we may observe that the most beautiful passages are generally the most simple. That passage of Demosthenes in which he describes the confusion at Athens after the battle of | 75 Elat<eia> is reckond by Longinus the most sublime <of> all his writings; and yet there is not one figure or trope through the whole of it. 2 Very often the figures seem to diminish rather than add to the beauty of an excellent passage. Two of the most beautifull passages in all Popes works are those in which he describes the state of mind of an untaught Indian; and the other in which he considers the various ranks and orders of beings in the universe.

• {Lo the Poor Indian whose untutored mind
• Sees God in clouds and hears him in the Wind etc. 3

The words watery waste had been better exchanged for Ocean but that the Rhime required them.

• Behold above around and underneath
• all nature full and bursting into birth etc.} ^d

In the latter of these there is not any one figurative expression, and the few there are in the other are no advantage to it.— —

On the other hand there is nowhere more use made of fi| 76gures than in the lowest and most vulgar conversation. The Billingsgate language is full of it. ^e Sancho Panca, and people of his stamp who speak in proverbs ^f , always abound in figures. For we may observe that a proverb always contains one, at least, and often two metaphors.

Upon the whole then, Figures of speech give no beauty to stile: it is when the expression is agreable to the sense of the speaker and his affection that we admire it.

But the same sentiment may often be naturally and agreably expressed and yet the manner be very different | 77 according to the circumstances of the author. The same story may <be> considered either as plain matter of fact without design to excite our compassion, or [it] in a moving way, or lastly in a jocose manner, according to the point in which it is connected with the author. ^g There are variety of characters which we may equally admire, as equally go<o>d and amiable, and yet these may be very different. It would then be very absurd to blame that of a good natured man because he wanted the severity of a more ^h rigid one. A man of Superior sense and penetration is not <to> be condemned because he | 78 give his assent to the opinion of the Company with the same ease as one of a more soft temper and of less parts (whose ⁱ character for this reason very often acceptable) will do. Other charac[ac]ters all very commendable can not be blamed because they want some perfections we are apt to admire, for these perhaps are ^j not at all consistent with them, and can hardly meet in the same person. The ^k consideration of this variety of characters affords us often no small entertainment, it forms one of the chief pleasures of a sociall life, and few are so foolish as to blame it or consider it as | 79 any defect.

In the same manner the various stiles in stead of being condemned for the want of beauties perhaps incompatible with those they possess may be considered ^l as good in their kind and suited to the circumstance of the author. ^m This observation confirms what we before observed that the expression ought to be suited to the mind of the author, for this is chiefly governed by the circumstances he is placed in. {The stile of an author is generally of the same stamp as their character. Thus the ⁿ[         ] of [         ] and the [         ] [of] of the flowery modesty of [         ] Addison [         ]ⁿ the pert and flippant insolence ^o of Warburton and the ^p[         ] of [         ]^p appear evident in their works and point the very character of the man.}

A Didactick writer and a historian seldom make use of the bolder figures, which an orator frequently introduces | 80 with advantage. The end ^q they have in view is different and so the means by which they hope to accomplish that end must be so too.

It is here to be observed that an Orator or didactick writer has two parts in his work: in the one he lays down his proposition and in the other he brings his proof of that proposition. An historian on the other hand has only one part, to wit the proposition. He barely tells you the facts, and if he has any thing as a proof of it, <it> is only a quotation from some other authore in a note or parenthesis. | 81 From this it is that tho the circumstances of an Orator and a didactick writer are very differen<t> yet there is a much greater resemblance betwixt their stiles than even ^r betwixt the <stile> of the latter and the historians.

The Orator and historian are indeed in very different circumstances. The business of the one is barely to narrate the facts which ^s are often very distant from his time and in which he is, or ought to be and endeavours to appear, noways interested. The Orator again treats of subjects he or his friends are nearly concerned in; it is <his> business therefore to appear, if <he> is not realy, deeply concerned in the matter, and uses all his art to | 82 prove what he is engaged in. Their Stiles are no less different. The orator insists on every particular, exposes it in every point of view, and sets of every argument in every shape it can bear. What the historian would have said barely and in one sentence by this means is brought into a long series of different views of the same argument. The orator frequently will exclaim on the strength of the argument, the justice of the cause, or any thing else that tends to support the thing he has in view; and this two in his own person. The historian again as he is in no pain what side seems the justest, but acts ^t as if | 83 he were an impartial narrater of the facts; so he uses none of these means to affect his readers, he never dwells on any circumstance, nor has he any use for insisting on arguments as he does not take part with either side, and for the same reason he never uses any exclamations in his own person. {When he does so we say he departs from the character of the historian and assumes that of the orator. Amongst the ancient historians I remember but three instances of such exclamations in the first person: one in Velleius Paterculus 4 on the death, and the other in Florus on the Eloquence, of Cicero. The third is in Tacitus life of Agricola in the end, on the character of that Roman ^u . Virgil has but three exclamations in the Eneid, one on[e] the love of Dido, another on the death of Pallas, a third on that of Nisus and Euryalus, Felices animæ si quid mea carmina possunt.}

The Didactick writer, as his circumstances ^v are nearer ^w to that of the orator ^x , so their stiles bear ^y a much greater resemblance to each other. The orator often lays aside the dictatorial stile and barely offers his arguments in a plain modest manner, especially when his discourse is directed to those of greater | 84 judgement and higher rank than himself. The didactick writer sometimes assumes an oratorial stile tho it may be questioned whether this be altogether so proper. Cicero often does so. Not only in those writings which are wrote in the manner of dialogue, but where he speaks in his own person, he often runs out into oratorial exclamations, and dwells on the same argument, and repeats it in different manners. Most other writers of this sort often do so ^z as well as he. Aristotle amongst the ancients, and Matchiavel ^a among the moderns are perhaps the only two who have adhered | 85 closely to this peculiar stile of a didactick writer. They trust solely to the strength of their arguments and the ingenuity and newness of their thoughts and discoveries to gain the assent of their readers.

Such is the variety of stiles that those which appear the most like have still a great difference. No two stiles have a great<er> connexion than a plain and a simple one, but they are far from being the same. 5

A Plain man is one who pays no regard to the common civilities and forms of good breeding. He gives his opinion bluntly and affirms without condescending to give any reason for his doing | 86 so; and if he mentions any sort of a reason it is only to shew how evident and plain a matter it was and expose the stupidity of the others in not perceiving it as well as he. {He is not <at> all ruffled by contradiction or any irritation whatever but is at pains to shew that this proceeds from his confidence in his own superior sense and judgement. He never gives way either to joy or grief; such affections would be below the dignity and complacence of mind which he affects. Compassion finds littl<e> room in his breast; admiration does not at all suit his wisdom; contempt is more agreable to his selfsufficient imperious temper.} He is not at all sedulous to please, on the conterary he affects a sort of austerity and hardness of behaviour, so that when the common civilities of behaviour would be the most natural and easy manner, he industriously avoids them. He is so far from affecting any graces or civilities that he affects the conterary, and renders himself more severe than his nature would naturally lead him to be. {He despises the fashion in every point and neither conforms himself to it in [in] dress, in language nor manners, but sticks by his own downright ways. Wit would ill–suit his gravity, Antitheses or Such like expressions. ^b } | 87 He is more apt to think that others have ill motives even when they act well than that they are only in a mistake and do not err knowingly when they act amiss. {He affirms without mitigation or apology.} ^c In ordinary conversation he thinks it enough to support what he says that it is his opinion, and is at no pains to enquire into those of others. Such a character is what clergymen generally assume, and those come to age.

It does well enough in those of superior abilities, who have had greater opportunities than common, or longer experience, but young men generally avoid it. Modesty and diffidence are more suited to their years than the assuming arrogance of this | 88 character; which even tho accompanied with age and knowledge ^d renders the possessor rather the object of our respect ^e and esteem than of our love.

The Simple man again, is not inde<e>d studious to appear with all the outward marks of civility and breeding that he sees others of a more disingenuous temper generally put on; but then, when they naturally express his real sentiments, and do’nt appear constrained, he readily uses them. He appears always willing to please, when this desire does not lead him to act dissingenuously. At other times the modesty and affability of his behaviour, his being always willing to comply | 89 with customs that do’nt look affected, plainly shew the goodness of his heart. He is not over ready to give his opinion and when he does it ’tis with that unaffected modesty which displays itself in all his behaviour, and in nothing more than in his conversation where his diffidence of his own judgement leads him to offer all the reasons he has to be of that mind, ^f to shew that he does not assert any thing merely because it is his opinion. Contempt never enters into his mind, he is more ready to think well than meanly both of the parts and the conduct of others. His own goodness of heart | 90 makes him never suspect others of dissengenuity. He is always open to conviction and is not <at> all irritated by others contradicting him, but the reason of this is not any stubbornness but the diffidence he entertains of his own capacity. {This leads him to speak very often in the first person to shew the mean opinion he has of himself, and sometimes to childish prating.} He is more given to admiration and pity, joy [pity] g<r>ief and compassion than the conterary affections, they suit well with the softness of his temper. This temper is what we often find in young men and in them is very agreable. Old men are generally not so apt to be of this character. It renders one more an object of ^g love and affection than regard and esteem.— — — —

| 91 When the characters of a plain and a simple man are so different we may naturally expect that the stile they express themselves in will be far from being the same.—Swift may serve as an instance of a plain stile and Sir Wm Temple of a simple one. Swift never gives any reason for his opinions but affirms them boldly without the least hesitation; and when one expect<s> a reason he meets with nothing but such expressions as, I have always been of opinion that, etc. because etc. It seems to me. This we find he does in the begin of his Considerations on the present state of affairs. 6 He is so far from studying the ornaments of language that he | 92 affects to leave them out even when naturall; and in this way he often throws out pronouns etc. that are necessary to make the sentence full but would at the same time lead him into the uniformity of cadence which he industriously avoids. This however make<s> his stile very close, no word can be passed over without notice, every other one must be strongly accented to draw the attention of the hearer, for a word lost would spoil the whole. This makes us read his works with more life and emphasis than those <of> most others; in Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke or others who study this uniformity of caden<c>e there are many superfluous words which we huddle together | 93 as being of very small importance to the sense of the period. He never introduces (in his grave works) any sort of figure, and that for the same reason as he avoids harmony and smoothness of cadence. He never expresses any passion but affirms with a dictatorial gravity. ^h

Temple on the other hand is not anxious about ornament but when they are naturall he does not reject them; his stile has neither the hardness of Swifts nor the labourd regularity of Shaftesbury. ⁱ The most common and received opinions he never <expresses> ^j but the most <?> manner possible, as That saying that | 94 wit and solid judgement are seldom or ever found together; which he brings in his character of the Dutch nation.—He does not avoid a figurative stile when agreable to his subject, as in the comparison betwixt the life of a merchant and a ^k soldier,—{In which there <are> a great many antitheses. These Swi<f>t never uses in his grave works, the<y> savour too much of the paradox, that is of wit, to suit his gravity.}—He uses more obsolete words here than we would expect in a writer of his age. This we never find in Swift. The knowledge of the world which <he> affects and which he chiefly imploys to satyrize it and turn it to ridicule, will not allow him to use anything that is out of the present taste. But Temple is led to them by the notion that every thing belonging to our forefathers has more simplicity than those of our times, as we ^l they were a more simple and honest set of men. | 95 His love of a modest simple stile leads him (but in a different maner from Swift) to use the first person very often, as well as to run into prating and Quibble. The description he gives of ^m may se<r>ve as an instance of both the former. When he says, The earth of Holland is better than the air, the the love of Interest stronger than the love of honour, 7 it is a mere quibb<l>e on the words earth and profit, air and honour. Xenophon and most other writers of this sort as well as he, abound in Jokes we are surprised to find in such grave writers.

[a]MS 6

[b]MS underlines only this phrase

[1 ]See v.55 n.1 above, and Introduction.

[c]is to be chosen replaced by most expressive in every which is then deleted

[2 ]Demosthenes, De Corona, 169. This account of the alarm of the Athenians at the news of Philip’s occupation of Elateia in 339 bc was admired by several critics: Hermogenes, and Longinus On the Sublime, X.7; cf. ii.225 n.3 below.

[3 ]Essay on Man, i.99–112; line 100 reads ‘or hears him . . .’; line 106 is ‘Some happier island in the watry waste’, to rhyme with ‘embrac’d’.

‘Behold above around and underneath . . .’: the passage on the ‘vast chain of being’ (i.233 ff.) reads:

• See, thro’ this air, this ocean, and this earth,
• All matter quick, and bursting into birth.

[d]Hand B

[e]MS off

[f]are deleted

[g]As deleted; The v written opposite on v.76

[h]ru deleted

[i]replaces a

[j]replaces will

[k]replaces These

[l]last three words added in blank left

[m]And deleted

[n–n]five blanks in MS of about seven letters each

[o]last fifteen words in Hand B; pert and flippant insolence replaces Hand A’s flippant unsol

[p]two blanks in MS of about four letters each

[q]replaces thing

[r]added in margin

[s]in which their of all deleted except which

[t]replaces to act

[4 ]C. Velleius Paterculus, Hist. Rom. ii.66; Annaeus Florus, Epitome, ii.16 (Cicero’s funeral juxtaposed with his fame as orator); Tacitus, Agricola, xlv.3; Aeneid, iv.65–7 (‘heu! vatum ignarae mentes . . .’), cf. iv.408–10 (Dido apostrophised, ‘quis tibi tum . . .’); x.501–2 (‘nescia mens hominum . . .’), and Pallas apostrophised ‘o dolor atque decus magnum . . .’ (507–9); ix.446–9 (for ‘Felices animae’ read ‘Fortunati ambo!’).

[u]last six words in Hand B; also following sentence

[v]bear deleted

[w]resemblance deleted

[x]so his stile deleted

[y]MS bears, s deleted

[z]likewise deleted

[a]Hand B, replacing Hand A’s Dr Mandeville deleted

[5 ]On the Characters see Introduction, p. 17.

[b]sentence written down inner margin of v.85, with last five words at top of v.86

[c]Hand B

[d]MS age, knowledge and

[e]replaces esteem regard

[f]last eight words replace arguments he can think of

[g]regard, than of love deleted

[6 ]Some free thoughts upon the Present State of Affairs – May 1714, published 1741.

[h]three blank lines follow

[i]In deleted

[j]conjecturally supplied: blank in MS

[k]the written above

[l]for if

[m]blank of eleven letters in MS

[7 ]Observations upon the United Provinces of the Netherlands (1673), ch.4. See i.200 n.12 below.