172. John Berridge, 1716-1793. (Handbook, par. 483.) Faith-Its Efficacy. For my own part since first my unbelief was felt, I have been praying fifteen years for faith, and praying with some earnestness, and yet am not yet possessed of more than half a grain. You smile, sir, I perceive at the smallness of the quantity; but you would not if you knew its efficacy. Jesus, who knew it well, assures you that a single grain, and a grain as small as mustard-seed, would remove a mountain-remove a mountain-load of guilt from the conscience, a mountain-load of trouble from the mind, a mountain-load from the heart. World Unmasked, p. 94. Perseverance, and its Guard. The doctrine of perseverance affords a stable proof to upright minds, yet lends no wanton cloak to corrupt hearts. It brings a cordial to revive the faint, and keeps a guard to check the froward. The guard attending on this doctrine is serjeant If; low in stature, but lofty in significance; a very valiant guard, though a monosyllable. Kind notice has been taken of the sergeant by Jesus Christ and his apostles; and much respect is due to him, from all the Lord's recruiting officers, and every soldier in his army. Pray listen to the serjeant's speech:-If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed. John viii. 31. If ye do those things ye shall never fall. 2 Pet. i. 10. We are made partakers of Christ, if we hold stedfast unto the end. Heb. iii. 14. Yet take notice, sir, that serjeant If is not of Jewish but of Christian parentage; not sprung from Levi, though a son of Abraham; no centinel of Moses, but a watchman for the camp of Jesus. Ib. p. 194. Morality thrives only on Gruce. The people who are chiefly loaded with morality are the booksellers; and they have got a shop-full, but are rather sick of the commodity and long to part with it. Though gilt and lettered on the back, it moulds upon a shelf like any Bible: and Mr. Hall's tract on salvation, will post away through ten editions, before a modest essay on morality can creep through one. The Whole Duty of Man was sent abroad with a good intent, but has failed of its purpose, as all such teaching ever will. Morality has not thriven since its publication; and never can The heathens for thrive unless grounded wholly upon grace. want of this foundation, could do nothing. They spoke some noble truths, but spoke to men with withered limbs and loathing appetites. They were like way-posts, which show a road but cannot help a cripple forwards; and many of them preached much brisker morals than are often taught by their modern friends. In their way, they were skilful fishermen, but fished without the gospel-bait and could catch no fry. And after they had toiled long in vain, we take up their angle-rods, and dream of more success, though not possessed of half their skill. World Unmasked, p. 210. 173. Horace Walpole, 1717-1797. (Handbook, pars. 412, 524.) One of our most clever and polished letter-writers: though deficient in true feeling. The Earthquake of London, 1750. Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent, My text is not literally true; but as far as earthquakes go towards lowering the price of wonderful commodities, to be sure we are overstocked. We have had a second, much more violent than the first; and you must not be surprised if, by next post, you hear of a burning mountain sprung up in Smithfield. In the night between Wednesday and Thursday last (exactly a month since the first shock), the earth had a shivering fit between one and two; but so slight that, if no more had followed, I don't believe it would have been noticed. I had been awoke, and had scarce dozed again-on a sudden I felt my bolster lift up my head; I thought somebody was getting from under my bed, but soon found it was a strong earthquake, that lasted near half a minute, with a violent vibration and great roaring. I rang my bell; my servant came in, frightened out of his senses; in an instant we heard all the windows in the neighbourhood flung up. I got up and found people running into the streets, but saw no mischief done: there has been some; two old houses flung down, several chimneys, and much chinaware. The bells rung in several houses. Admiral Knowles, who had lived long in Jamaica, and felt seven there, says this was more violent than any of them; Francesco prefers it to the dreadful one at Leghorn. The wise say, that if we have not rain soon, we shall certainly have more. Several people are going out of town, for it has nowhere reached above ten miles from London; they say, they are not frightened, but that it is such fine weather, one can't help going into the country. Letters. 174. Hugh Blair, 1718-1799. (Handbook, par. 426.) Style. All the qualities of a good style may be ranged under two heads, Perspicuity and Ornament. For all that can possibly be required of language is to convey our ideas clearly to the minds of others, and at the same time in such a dress as, by pleasing and interesting them, shall most effectually strengthen the impressions which we seek to make. When both these ends are answered, we certainly accomplish every purpose for which we use writing and discourse. Rhetoric. Gentleness. I begin with distinguishing true gentleness from passive tameness of spirit, and from unlimited compliance with the manners of others. That passive tameness which submits, without struggle, to every encroachment of the violent and assuming, forms no part of Christian duty, but, on the contrary, is destructive of general happiness and order. That unlimited complaisance which, on every occasion, falls in with the opinions and manners of others, is so far from being a virtue, that it is itself a vice, and the parent of many vices. It overthrows all steadiness of principle, and produces that sinful conformity with the world which taints the whole character. . . ... It stands opposed, not to the most determined regard for virtue and truth, but to harshness and severity, to pride and arrogance, to violence and oppression. It is, properly, that part of the great virtue of charity which makes us unwilling to give pain to any of our brethren. Compassion prompts us to relieve their wants; forbearance prevents us from retaliating their injuries. Meekness restrains our angry passions; candour our severe judgments. Gentleness corrects whatever is offensive in our manners; and, by a constant train of humane attentions, studies to alleviate the burden of common misery. Its office, therefore, is extensive. It is not, like some other virtues, called forth only on peculiar emergencies; but it is continually in action when we are engaged in intercourse with men. It ought to form our address, to regulate our speech, and to diffuse itself over our whole behaviour. . . . ... True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe to Him who made us, and to the common nature of which we all share. It arises from reflection on our own failings and wants, and from just views of the condition and the duty of man. It is native feeling, heightened and improved by principle. It exercises authority with moderation, administers reproof with tenderness, confers favour with ease and modesty. It is unassuming in opinion, and temperate in zeal. It contends not eagerly about trifles; slow to contradict, and still slower to blame, but prompt to allay dissension and to restore peace. It neither intermeddles unnecessarily with the affairs, nor pries inquisitively into the secrets of others. It delights, above all things, to alleviate distress, and, if it cannot dry up the falling tear, to soothe, at least, the grieving heart. In a word, it is that spirit, and that tenor of manners, which the gospel of Christ enjoins when it commands us to bear one another's burdens; to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to weep with those who weep; to please every one his neighbour for his good; to be kind and tender-hearted; to be pitiful and courteous; to support the weak; and to be patient towards all men. Sermons. Serm, vi, 175. George Campbell, 1719-1796. (Handbook, par. 426.) The author of a translation of the Four Gospels, and of one of the ablest and most original works on Rhetoric. Appeals to Feeling as well as to Reason essential to Persuasion. When persuasion is the end, passion also must be engaged. If it is fancy which bestows brilliancy on our ideas, if it is memory which gives them stability, passion doth more,—it animates them. Hence they derive spirit and energy. To say that it is possible to persuade without speaking to the passions, is but at best a kind of specious nonsense. The coolest reasoner always, in persuading, addresseth himself to the passions some way or other. This he cannot avoid doing, if he speak to the purpose. To make me believe, it is enough to show me that things are so; to make me act, it is necessary to show that the action will answer some end. That can never be an end to me 'It which gratifies no passion or affection in my nature. You assure me it is for my honour.' Now you solicit my pride, without which I had never been able to understand the word. You say it is for my interest.' Now you bespeak my self-love. is for the public good.' Now you rouse my patriotism. will relieve the miserable.' Now you touch my pity. So far, therefore, it is from being an unfair method of persuasion to move the passions, that there is no persuasion without moving them. "It But if so much depend on passion, where is the scope for argument? Before I answer this question, let it be observed that, in order to persuade, there are two things which must be carefully studied by the orator. The first is, to excite some desire or passion in the hearers; the second is, to satisfy their judgment that there is a connection between the action to which he would persuade them, and the gratification of the desire or passion which he excites. This is the analysis of persuasion. The former is effected by communicating lively and glowing ideas of the object; the latter, unless so evident of itself as to supersede the necessity, by presenting the best and most forcible arguments which the nature of the subject admits. In the one lies the pathetic; in the other the argumentative. These, incorporated together, constitute that vehemence of contention to which the greatest exploits of eloquence ought doubtless to be ascribed. Here, then, is the principal scope for argument; but not the only scope, as will appear in the sequel. When the first end alone is attained, the pathetic without the rational, the passions are indeed roused from a disagreeable languor by the help of the imagination, and the mind is thrown into a state which, though accompanied with some painful emotions, rarely fails, upon the whole, to affect it with pleasure. But if the hearers are judicious, no practical effect is produced. They cannot, by such declamation, be influenced to a particular action, because not convinced that that action will conduce to the gratifying of the passion raised. Your eloquence hath fired my ambition, and makes me burn with public zeal. The consequence is, there is nothing which at present I would not attempt for the sake of fame and the interest of my country. You advise me to such a conduct; but you have not shown me how that can contribute to gratify either passion. Satisfy me in this, and I am instantly at your command. Indeed, when the hearers are rude and ignorant, |