You see these reasons, in whatever defective, are both of them founded in one common principle, which the Bishop every where goes upon, and the best philosophy warrants, That, when the Deity interposes in human affairs, he interposes no further than is necessary to the end in view, and leaves every thing else to the intervention and operation of second causes. The Apostles wanted NO succedaneum to an inward conscious persuasion, which the observance of the general principles of eloquence supplies; they were not, therefore, supernaturally instructed in them. They wanted NO assistance from a power that tends to stifle reason and inflame the passions: it was not, therefore, miraculously imparted to them. Every thing here is rational, and closely argued. What was not necessary was not done. Not a word about the inconvenience and inutility, in all cases, of recurring to the rules and practice of a chaste eloquence: not a word to shew that, where eloquence is employed, there is nothing but fraud and falshood, no inward persuasion, no consciousness of truth: not a word to insinuate that either you or the Bishop should be restrained from being as eloquent on occasion as you might have it in your power to be, or might think fit: nay, not a word against the Apostles themselves having recourse to the aids of human eloquence, if they had access to them, and found them expedient; only these aids were not REQUIRED, that is, were not to be claimed or expected from divine inspiration.
Thus stands the Bishop’s reasoning, perfectly clear and just. The only room for debate is, whether his ideas of the nature and end of eloquence be just, too. Eloquence, he says, is but a persuasive turn given to the elocution, to supply that inward, that conscious persuasion of the speaker, so necessary to gain a fair hearing. The general affirmation you do not, indeed cannot, reject or controvert; for, the great master of eloquence himself confirms it in express words—Tum optimè dicit orator, cum VIDETUR vera dicere. Quinctil. l. iv. c. 2. And, again, Semper ita dicat, TANQUAM de causâ optimè sentiat. l. v. c. 13; that is, an inward conscious persuasion is to be supplied by the speaker’s art. The Bishop’s idea then of the nature of eloquence is, as far as I can see, the very same idea which Quinctilian had of it. Both agree, that eloquence is such a turn of the elocution as supplies that inward conscious persuasion so necessary to the speaker’s success. The Bishop adds, that this supply the inspired writers did not want. But you will say, perhaps, that merely human writers may have this inward conscious persuasion, as well as the inspired. What then? if human writers can do without this succedaneum, which human eloquence supplies to inward persuasion, who obliges them to have recourse to it? Yes, but they cannot do so well without it. Who then forbids them to have recourse to it? For, neither are the inspired writers barred of this privilege: only, as being simply UNNECESSARY, it was not præternaturally supplied. Your perplexity on this subject arises from not distinguishing between what is absolutely necessary, and what is sometimes expedient: Divine inspiration provides only for the first; the latter consideration belongs to human prudence.
But it would be, further, a mistake to say, that merely human writers have their inward conscious persuasion as well as the divine. They may have it, indeed, from the conclusions of their own reason, but have they it in the same degree of strength and vivacity, have they the same full assurance of faith, as those who have truth immediately impressed upon them by the hand of God? I suppose, not.
But the Bishop’s idea of the END of eloquence revolts you as much as his idea of its nature. What, says he, is the END of eloquence, even when it extends no further than to those more general principles, but to stifle reason and inflame the passions? And what other end, I pray you, can it have? You will say, To adorn, recommend, and enforce truth. It may be so, sometimes: this, we will say, is its more legitimate end. But even this end is not accomplished but by stifling reason and inflaming the passions: that is, eloquence prevents reason from adverting simply to the truth of things, and to the force of evidence; and it does this by agitating and disturbing the natural and calm state of the mind with rhetorical diminutions or amplifications. Vis oratoris OMNIS, says Quinctilian, in AUGENDO MINUENDOQUE consistit. [l. viii. c. 3. sub fin.] Now what is this but stifling reason? But it goes further: it inflames the passions, the ultimate end it has in view from stifling reason, or putting it of its guard. And for this, again, we have the authority of Quinctilian, affectibus perturbandus et ab intentione auferendus orator. Non enim solum oratoris est docere, sed plus eloquentia CIRCA MOVENDUM valet. l. iv. c. 5. Or, would you see a passage from the great master of rhetoric, where his idea of this double end of eloquence is given, at once; it follows in these words—Ubi ANIMIS judicum VIS afferenda est, et AB IPSA VERI CONTEMPLATIONE abducenda mens, IBI PROPRIUM ORATORIS OPUS EST. l. vi. c. 2. That is, where the passions are to be inflamed, and reason stifled, there is the proper use and employment of the rhetorical art. So exactly has the Bishop traced the footsteps of the great master, when he gave us his idea of the END of eloquence!
Well, but this end, you say, is IMMORAL. So much the worse for your system; for such is the undoubted end of eloquence, even by the confession of its greatest patrons and advocates themselves. But what? Is this end immoral in all cases? And have you never then heared, that the passions, as wicked things as they are, may be set on the side of truth? In short, Eloquence, like Ridicule, which is, indeed, no mean part of it, may be either well or ill employed; and though it cannot be truly said that the end of either is simply immoral, yet it cannot be denied that what these modes of address propose to themselves in ALL cases is, to stifle reason and inflame the passions.
The Bishop’s idea, then, of the end of eloquence, I presume, is fairly and fully justified. But your complaint now is, that the Bishop does not himself abide by this idea. For you find a contradiction between what his Lordship says here—that the END of eloquence, even when it extends no further than to those more general principles, is but to style reason and inflame the passions, and what he says elsewhere—that the PRINCIPAL end of eloquence, AS IT IS EMPLOYED IN HUMAN AFFAIRS, is to mislead reason and to cajole the fancy and affections[155]. But these propositions are perfectly consistent; nor was the latter introduced so much as for the purpose of qualifying and palliating any thing that might be deemed offensive in the former. For though eloquence, chastely employed, goes no further than to stifle reason and inflame the passions (and the chastest eloquence, if it deserves the name, goes thus far), yet the principal end of eloquence, as it is employed in human affairs, is to mislead reason, which is something more than stifling it; and to cajole, which is much worse than to inflame, the passions. Reason may be STIFLED, and the passions INFLAMED, when the speaker’s purpose is to inculcate right and truth: Reason is only in danger of being MISLED, and the fancy and affections of being CAJOLED, when wrong and error are enforced by him. So very inaccurate was your conception of the Bishop’s expression! which I should not have explained so minutely, but to shew you that, when you undertook to expose such a writer, as the Bishop, you should have studied his expression with more care, and should have understood the force of words at another rate, than you seem to have done in this instance.
Still you will ask, if the end be so legitimate, why should not the inspired writers be trusted with this powerful engine of human eloquence? The Bishop gives several reasons: It is a suspicious instrument, p. 57. It was an improper instrument for heaven-directed men, whose strength was not to be derived from the wisdom of men, but from the power of God, p. 59. But the direct and immediate answer is contained, as I observed, in these words—The propagation of Christian truths indispensably requires the aid of reason, and requires no other aid. 1. Christianity, which is a reasonable service, was of necessity to be propagated by force of reason; in the Bishop’s better expression, IT INDISPENSABLY REQUIRED THE AID OF REASON; but Reason, he tells us in the next words, can never be fairly and vigorously exerted but in that favourable interval which precedes the appeal to the passions. 2. The Propagation of Christianity, which indispensably required the aid of reason, REQUIRED NO OTHER HUMAN AID: that is, no other human means were simply REQUISITE or NECESSARY. God, therefore, was pleased to leave his inspired servants to the prudential use and exercise of their own natural or acquired talents; but would not supernaturally endow them with this unnecessary power of eloquent words. The inspired writers, even the most learned and, by nature, the most eloquent of them, made a very sparing use of such talents, proudly sacrificing them, as the Bishop nobly and eloquently says, to the glory of the everlasting Gospel. But as the end was not, so neither was the use of eloquence, simply immoral or evil in itself. They were considerations of propriety, prudence, and piety, which restrained the Apostles generally, but not always, in the use of eloquence; which was less decent in their case, and which they could very well do without. When the same considerations prompt other men, under other circumstances, to affect the way of eloquence, it may safely, and even commendably, for any thing the Bishop has said on this subject as it concerns divine inspiration, be employed.
Admitting then the Bishop’s ideas both of the nature and end of eloquence, the want of this character in the sacred writings is only vindicated, not the thing itself interdicted or disgraced.
The conclusion from the whole of what the Bishop has advanced on this argument, follows in these words:
‘What, therefore, do our ideas of fit and right tell us is required in the style of an universal law? Certainly no more than this—To employ those aids which are common to all language as such; and to reject what is peculiar to each, as they are casually circumstanced. And what are these aids but CLEARNESS and PRECISION? By these, the mind and sentiments of the Composer are intelligibly conveyed to the reader. These qualities are essential to language, as it is distinguished from jargon: they are eternally the same, and independent on custom or fashion. To give a language clearness was the office of Philosophy; to give it precision was the office of Grammar. Definition performs the first service by a resolution of the ideas which make up the terms: Syntaxis performs the second by a combination of the several parts of speech into a systematic congruity: these are the very things in language which are least positive, as being conducted on the principles of metaphysics and logic. Whereas, all besides, from the very power of the elements, and signification of the terms, to the tropes and figures of composition, are arbitrary; and, what is more, as these are a deviation from those principles of metaphysics and logic, they are frequently vicious. This, the great master quoted above [Quinctilian] freely confesseth, where speaking of that ornamented speech, which he calls σχήματα λέξεως, he makes the following confession and apology—esset enim omne schema VITIUM, si non peteretur, sed accideret. Verum auctoritate, vetustate, consuetudine, plerumque defenditur, sæpe etiam RATIONE QUADAM. Ideoque cum sit a simplici rectoque loquendi genere deflexa, virtus est, si habet PROBABILE ALIQUID quod sequatur[156].’