ject, materials for the preface will then suggest themselves much more readily.

In the second place, in an introduction, correctness should be carefully studied in the expression. This is requisite on account of the situation of the hearers. They are then more disposed to criticise than at any other period; they are, as yet, unoccupied with the subject or the arguments; their attention is wholly directed to the speaker's style and manner. Something must be done, therefore, to prepossess them in his favour; though, for the same reasons, too much art must be avoided; for it will be more easily detected at that time, than afterwards; and will derogate from persuasion in all that follows. A correct plainness, and elegant simplicity, is the proper character of an introduction; "ut videamur," says Quintilian," accuratè non callidè dicere."

In the third place, modesty is another character which it must carry. All appearances of modesty are favourable, and prepossessing. If the orator set cut with an air of arrogance and ostentation, the self-love and pride of the hearers will be presently awakened, and will follow him with a very suspicious eye throughout all his progress. His modesty should discover itself not only in his expressions at the beginning, but in his whole manner; in his looks, in his gestures, in the tone of his voice. Every auditory take in good part those marks of respect and awe, which are paid to them by one who addresses them. Indeed the modesty of an introduction should never betray any thing mean or abject. It is always of great use to an orator, that, together with modesty and deference to his hearers, he should show a certain sense of dignity, arising from a persuasion of the justice, or importance, of the subject on which he is to speak.

The modesty of an introduction requires, that it promise not too much. "Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem."* This certainly is the general rule, that an orator. should not put forth all his strength at the beginning; but should rise and grow upon us, as his discourse advances. There are cases, however, in which it is allowable for him to set.

*He does not lavish at a blaze his fire,
Sudden to glare, and then in smoke expire;
But rises from a cloud of smoke to light,
And pours his specious miracles to sight.

HOR. ARS. POET, FRANCIS

out from the first in a high and bold tone; as, for instance, when he rises to defend some cause which has been much run down, and decried by the public. Too modest a beginning, might be then like a confession of guilt. By the boldness and strength of his exordium, he must endeavour to stem the tide that is against him, and to remove prejudices, by encountering them without fear. In subjects too of a declamatory nature, and in sermons, where the subject is striking, a magnificent introduction has sometimes a good effect, if it be properly supported in the sequel. Thus Bishop Atterbury, in beginning an eloquent sermon, preached on the 30th of January, the anniversary of what is called King Charles's Martyrdom, sets out in this pompous manner: "This is a day of trouble, of rebuke, and of blasphemy; distinguished in the calendar of our church, and the annals of our nation, by the sufferings of an excellent prince, who fell a sacrifice to the rage of his rebellious subjects; and, by his fall, derived infamy, misery, and guilt on them, and their sinful posterity." Bossuet, Flechier, and the other celebrated French preachers, very often begin their discourses with laboured and sublime introductions. These raise attention, and throw a lustre on the subject: but let every speaker be much on his guard against striking a higher note at the beginning, than he is able to keep up in his progress.

In the fourth place, an introduction should usually be carried on in a calm manner. This is seldom the place for vehemence and passion. Emotions must rise, as the discourse advances. The minds of the hearers must be gradually prepared, before the speaker can venture on strong and passionate senti

ments.

The exceptions to this rule are, when the subject is such, that the very mention of it naturally awakens some passionate emotion; or when the unexpected presence of some person or object, in a popular assembly, inflames the speaker, and makes him break forth with unusual warmth. Either of these will justify what is called, the exordium ab abrupto. Thus the appearance of Catiline in the senate, renders the vehement beginning of Cicero's first oration against him very natural and proper: "Quosque tandem, Catilina, abutere patientia nostra?" And thus Bishop Atterbury, in preaching from this text,

"Blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me," ventures on breaking forth with this bold exordium : "And can any man then be offended in thee, blessed Jesus?" which address to our Saviour, he continues for a page or two, till he enters on the division of his subject. But such introductions as these should be hazarded by very few, as they promise so much vehemence and unction through the rest of the discourse, that it is very difficult to fulfil the expectations of the hearers.

At the same time, though the introduction is not the place in which warm emotions are usually to be attempted, yet I must take notice, that it ought to prepare the way for such as are designed to be raised in subsequent parts of the discourse. The orator should, in the beginning, turn the minds of his hearers towards those sentiments and feelings which he seeks to awaken in the course of his speech. According, for instance, as it is compassion, or indignation, or contempt, on which his discourse is to rest, he ought to sow the seeds of these in his introduction; he ought to begin with breathing that spirit which he means to inspire. Much of the orator's art and ability is shewn, in thus striking properly at the commencement, the key note, if we may, so express it, of the rest of his oration.

In the fifth place, it is a rule in introductions, not to anticipate any material part of the subject. When topics, or arguments, which are afterwards to be enlarged upon, are hinted at, and, in part, brought forth in the introduction, they lose the grace of novelty upon their second appearance. The impression intended to be made by any capital thought, is always made with the greatest advantage, when it is made entire, and in its proper place.

:

In the last place, the introduction ought to be proportioned, both in length and in kind, to the discourse that is to follow in length, as nothing can be more absurd than to erect a very great portico before a small building; and in kind, as it is no less absurd to overcharge, with superb ornaments, the portico of a plain dwelling-house, or to make the entrance to a monument as gay as that to an arbour. Common sense directs, that every part of a discourse should be suited to the strain and spirit of the whole.

These are the principal rules that relate to introductions. They are adapted, in a great measure, equally, to discourses of

all kinds. In pleadings at the bar, or speeches in public assemblies, particular care must be taken not to employ any introduction of that kind, which the adverse party may lay hold of, and turn to his advantage. To this inconvenience, all those introductions are exposed, which are taken from general and common-place topics; and it never fails to give an adversary a considerable triumph, if, by giving a small turn to something we had said in our exordium, we can appear to convert, to his own favour, the principles with which we had set out, in beginning our attack upon him. In the case of replies, Quintilian makes an observation which is very worthy of notice; that introductions, drawn from something that has been said in the course of the debate, have always a peculiar grace; and the reason he gives for it is just and sensible: "Multum gratiæ exordio est, quod ab actione diversæ partis materiam trahit ; hoc ipso, quod non compositum domi, sed ibi atque é re natum ; et facilitate famam ingenii auget; et facie simplicis, sumtique é proximo sermonis, fidem quoque acquirit; adeo, et etiamsi reliqua scripta atque elaborata sint, tamen videatur tota extemporalis oratio, cujus initium nihil preparatum habuisse manifestum est."*

In sermons, such a practice as this cannot take place; and, indeed, in composing sermons, few things are more difficult than to remove an appearance of stiffness from an introduction, when a formal one is used. The French preachers, as I before observed, are often very splendid and lively in their introductions; but, among us, attempts of this kind are not always so successful. When long introductions are formed upon some common-place topic, as the desire of happiness being natural to man, or the like, they never fail of being tedious. Variety should be studied in this part of composition as much as possible; often it may be proper to begin without any introduction at all, unless, perhaps, one or two sentences. Explanatory in

"An introduction, which is founded upon the pleading of the opposite party, is extremely graceful; for this reason, that it appears not to have been meditated at home, but to have taken rise from the business, and to have been composed on the spot. Hence, it gives to the speaker the repu tation of a quick invention, and adds weight likewise to his discourse, as artless and unlaboured: insomuch, that though all the rest of his oration hould be studied and written, yet the whole discourse has the appearance of being extemporary, as it is evident that the introduction to it was unpremeditat ed."

troductions from the context, are the most simple of any, and frequently the best that can be used; but as they are in hazard of becoming dry, they should never be long. A historical introduction has, generally, a happy effect to rouse attention; when one can lay hold upon some noted fact, that is connected with the text or the discourse, and, by a proper illustration of it, open the way to the subject that is to be treated of.

After the introduction, what commonly comes next in order, is, the proposition, or enunciation of the subject; concerning which there is nothing to be said, but that it should be as clear and distinct as possible, and expressed in few and plain words, without the least affectation. To this, generally succeeds the division, or the laying down the method of the discourse; on which it is necessary to make some observations. I do not mean, that, in every discourse, a formal division, or distribution of it into parts, is requisite. There are many occasions of public speaking, when this is neither requisite, nor would be proper; when the discourse, perhaps, is to be short, or only one point is to be treated of; or when the speaker does not choose to warn his hearers of the method he is to follow, or of the conclusion to which he seeks to bring them. Order of one kind or other is, indeed, essential to every good discourse; that is, every thing should be so arranged as that what goes before, may give light and force to what follows. But this may be a ccomplished by means of a concealed method. What we' call division, is, when the method is propounded in form to the hearers.

The discourse, in which this sort of division most commonly takes place, is a sermon; and a question has been moved, whether this method of laying down heads, as it is called, be the best method of preaching. A very able judge, the archbishop of Cambray, in his dialogues on eloquence, declares strongly against it. He observes, that it is a modern invention; that it was never practised by the fathers of the church; and, what is certainly true, that it took its rise from the schoolmen, when metaphysics began to be introduced into preaching. He is of opinion, that it renders a sermon stiff; that it breaks the unity of the discourse; and that, by the natural connexion of one part with another, the attention of the hearers would be carried along the whole with more advantage.