it, can melt it from its various affinities into a flow of one common emotion.

§ 599. It should be added, that emotion in the soul of the orator must spring from the subject itself, and not from any thing extraneous and accidental. A man may rise in a public assembly under the influence of some strong emotion, as of bashfulness, of despair, or of love of praise, and find that an emotion of this kind, arising from something extraneous to the subject, only disqualifies him for speaking, by withdrawing his attention from the subject, and fixing it upon that which is extraneous. But when, like Patrick Henry, his whole soul is so absorbed in the subject at issue, that it "haunts him like a passion," in solitude as weil as in the assembly; when, in his deep devotion to a cause like his, he can 12. say, "Give me liberty, or give me death!" like him he will

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be eloquent. Like him he will find that the common heart of his audience will respond in strong throbbings to his own.

§ 600. And, further, the emotion in the soul of the speaker, springing from a view of the subject, should be regulated by a sound judgment. It should be so strong as to invigorate the other faculties of the mind, but not so overwhelming as to disturb them in their movements. There is a degree of excitement bordering on derangement, under which the orator may sometimes speak with great effect, like MacBriar in Old Mortality. In this state of mind he is possessed by his subject, rather than possesses it. And though he may within certain limits carry his audience along with him on the "seraph wings of ecstasy," there is danger that, taking leave of his reason and his audience, he may run into the extravagance of mere rant and impotent passion. Emotion must string his nerves and "imp his eagle wings," but judgment must direct his flight.

§ 601. In looking at the origin of eloquence in the soul of the orator, we find that it is closely related to the love of truth. Truth is the grand instrument for making others feel as he feels. A love of truth must animate the orator in all his investigations, as well as in the delivery of his opinions, or he will not tax his mind to the full and successful exertions of his powers. A mind that has a strong affinity for

truth can first discover and then unfold it to others, when an other mind, influenced only by the love of gain, or of reputa tion, or of office, would fail. Truth is the natural invigora

He who loves truth is the others in such a way that Moreover, when an orator

tor and nourisher of the mind. better qualified to present it to they too will feel its influence. evinces to an audience that he has a strong love of truth in his soul, he has a deeper hold of that audience, because he has their confidence, than he can have who, by falsehood, is skilled to "make the worse appear the better reason." What was it but the love of the truth that gave the Apostle Paul power over his audience? With what candor and gentleness does he treat the arguments and the prejudices of his hear ers, that by all means he should win some to the knowledge of the truth! It was the love of truth, and not the desire of victory, that formed the living principle of his argumentation, as it was the ruling principle of his life. As his Mas ter came to bear witness to the truth, so Paul felt, in his fervent love of the truth, that he was set for the defense of the Gospel, the sum and substance of the truth.

§ 602. Moreover, there must be in the soul of the orator a strong sense of right, to qualify him to enforce what is right apon others. There are men whose want of moral sensibility is such, that they can look with indifference upon some atrocious crime as they can likewise upon some glorious act of virtue. Their pulse neither quickens with the flush of anger in the one case, nor with the generous glow of admiration in the other. Such men can not be eloquent in those cases in which there must be strong appeals to the sense of right and wrong, that deep principle in the common heart of man, which no orator can safely neglect.

What was it that fired the eloquence of Burke, when, on a certain occasion, it shook the walls that confined it with anathemas almost superhuman? Was it not the deep sense of violated right, the strong abhorrence of that "Geographical morality" which characterized the Governor of India and his minions? How could he have described the tortures inflicted by his orders, the flagrant injustice committed by his authority; how could he have painted "agonizing nature

vibrating in horrid suspense between life and destruction," and, in the climax of the crimes, "death introduced into the very sources of life," in such a way that a "convulsive sensation of horror, and affright, and smothered execration pervaded all the male part of the hearers, and audible sobbings and screams, with tears and fainting, the female," unless his own moral sensibilities had been deeply excited? Without his strong hatred of vice, which is no other than a passionate love of virtue, how could he have made the accused party bear testimony the strongest ever borne to the powers of any orator in any country? "For half an hour," said Mr. Hastings, "I looked up at the orator in a reverie of wonder; and, during that space, I actually felt myself the most culpable man on earth;" adding, however, "but I recurred to my own bosom, and there found a consciousness that consoled me under all I heard and all I suffered." It is an ancient opinion that none but a good man can be an eminent orator. The opinion is a sound one, for this reason, if for no other, that none but a good man can have that hatred of vice and wrong which are no other than a passionate love of right and virtue. Lacking goodness, he lacks the highest inspiration, and the most powerful instrumentality.

§ 603. But in order to speak with effect, it is necessary that the orator should have distinctly in his mind the end for which he speaks. This end must stand forth in the field of his vision distinct and prominent, as the one thing to be thought of during the meditation and delivery of his discourse; as the one thing to be held up before his hearers. What he says, he is to regard as valuable only as it is a means adapted to promote that end. Whatever he regards as foreign to this instrumentality, he rejects, however beautiful in thought or expression it may be. To accomplish this end, to conduct his hearers to the point to which he wishes to lead them, he endeavors to fill their minds with the same thoughts and feelings which fill his mind; to link in his ideas on the subject in hand with their habitual ideas concerning duty, moral excellence, the public weal, and personal happiness. Whether in the cause of justice at the bar, or in the cause of the public weal in the deliberative assembly, or in the cause

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of religion in the pulpit, he must have a distinct end in his mind, and distinct ideas related to this end, and a distinct mode by which he endeavors to connect his ideas with their ideas, and thus to bring them to act with him. This was what distinguished the younger Pitt. He always had a distinct end in speaking related to distinct ideas or principles thought out in his mind, which, in their application, became what was called The Pitt System.

$ 604. Another requisite is, that the orator should have good sense in adapting the means which he employs to the end. He must not only have in his mind truths that have a bearing upon the subject in hand, but those truths which have a bearing upon the minds of his hearers. He must, therefore, fully understand the state of their feelings, the degree of their knowledge, the strength of their prejudices and predilections, otherwise he will fail of accomplishing his end, from not applying the appropriate means. All eloquence is relative. It must be related to the audience, to the time, to the place, to the occasion. The speaker must not mistake his office, which is to apply truth, for that of the philosopher, which is to discover truth. He must have that ready perception of the proprieties of the occasion, that tact in seizing hold of any relationship between him and his audience, which Paul manifested when he made the declaration, "I am a Pharisee." Burke, as a philosophic statesman, in addressing the House of Commons, sometimes "Thought of convincing while they thought of dining;" while Charles Townsend, a practical man, could always, in the language of the former, "hit the House between wind and water."

§ 605. Besides good sense, in addressing his audience, the orator must, for the highest excellence in his art, have the power of distinct and vivid conception, in order that he may communicate a distinct impression of the objects which he describes. It is only when he sees the objects in the past, the distant, and the future, that he can so describe them to others; that they can see them as in a picture, in their true forms and colors, as if they were actually before their eyes. Leonardo da Vinci had in his mind certain vivid and distinct conceptions of the Last Supper, which, with his pencil, by

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light, and shade, and color, he exhibited, in his celebrated
painting in the Cathedral of Milan, in forms so true to nature
that the spectator could hardly resist the impression that he
was actually gazing upon breathing bodies. What are light,
and shade, and color to the painter in one of the fine arts,
such are words, and tones, and gestures to the orator in an-
other and a higher art. By means of them his own concep-
tions, as if pictured, are visibly set forth to the view of oth-
ers. He who has the power of picturesque, description has
an advantage over him who has not: first, in his power of
securing attention; secondly, in his power of making himself
understood; thirdly, in awakening a deep interest in the
speaker, such as he could not awaken if he trusted to dull
generalities. It was this power of picturesque description
which gave a charm to the eloquence of our countryman,
Fisher Ames: "Experience," he says, "has already been.
the prophet of events, and the cries of our future victims
have already reached us. The western inhabitants are not
The voice of humanity

a silent and uncomplaining sacrifice.
issues from the shade of their wilderness. It exclaims, that
'while one hand is held out to reject the treaty, the other
grasps a tomahawk! It summons our imagination to the
scenes that will open. Indeed, it is no great effort of the
imagination to conceive that events so near are already be-
gun. I can fancy that I listen to the yells of savage venge-
ance and the shrieks of torture. Already they seem to sigh
in the west wind; already they mingle with every echo from
the mountains." Every sentence here contains a distinct
image; and the whole is so picturesque, that we can see the
whole as if on canvas.

§ 606. Moreover, there must be a strong desire to express to others the emotions which the speaker feels. Strong feeling naturally seeks to express itself in words; for in doing this man finds relief, just as the brute creation show forth pleasure or pain by inarticulate sounds. In the intercourse of private life, men under the influence of any emotion ever seek to pour out their thoughts into the ear of private friendship, or in a more public way give vent to their feelings Such is the strength of the social principle, that speak the