It is too common a fault in introductions, that they are taken from some common-place topic, which has no peculiar relation to the subject in hand; by which means they stand apart, like pieces detached from the rest of the discourse. Of this kind are Sallust's introductions, prefixed to his Catilinarian and Jugurthine wars. They might as well have been introductions to any other history, or to any other treatise whatever: and, therefore, though elegant in themselves, they must be considered as blemishes in the work, from want of due connexion with it. Cicero, though abundantly correct in this particular in his orations, yet is not so in his other works. It appears from a letter of his to Atticus, (L. xvi. 6.) that it was his custom to prepare, at his leisure, a collection of different introductions or prefaces, ready to be prefixed to any work that he might afterwards publish. In consequence of this strange method of composing, it happened to him, to employ the same introduction twice without remembering it; prefixing it to two different works. Upon Atticus informing him of this, he acknowledges the mistake, and sends him a new introduction.

In order to render introductions natural and easy, it is, in my opin ion, a good rule, that they should not be planned till after one has meditated in his own mind the substance of his discourse. Then, and not till then, he should begin to think of some proper and natural introduction. By taking a contrary course, and labouring in the first place on an introduction, every one who is accustomed to composition will often find, that either he is led to lay hold of some common-place topic, or that, instead of the introduction being accommodated to the discourse, he is obliged to accommodate the whole discourse to the introduction which he had previously written. Cicero makes this remark; though, as we have seen, his practice was not always conformable to his own rule. Omnibus rebus consideratis, tum denique id, quod primum est dicendum, postremum soleo cogitare, quo utar exordio. Nam si quando id primum invenire volui, nullum mihi occurrit nisi aut exile, aut nugatorium, aut vulgare.'* After the mind has been once warmed and put in train, by close meditation on the subject, 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 persua

* When I have planned and digested all the materials of my discourse, it is my custom to think, in the last place, of the introduction with which I am to begin. For if at any time I have endeavoured to invent an introduction first, nothing has ever occurred to me for that purpose, but what was trifling, nugatory, and vulgar.'

sion 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 out with an air of arrogance and ostentation, the selflove 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 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.

* 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.

In the fourth place, an introduction should usually be carried on in the 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 sentiments. 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: Quousque tandem, Catilina, abutêre 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.

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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 shown, 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 a discourse should be suited to the strain and spirit of the whole.

of

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, he 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 è re natum; et facilitate famam ingenii auget; et facie simplicis, sumptique è proximo sermonis, fidem quoque acquirit; adeo, ut etiamsi relique 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 introductions 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

" 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 reputation of a quick invention, and adds weight likewise to his discourse, as artless and unlaboured: insomuch, that though all the rest of his oration should be studied and written, yet the whole discourse has the appearance of being extemporary, as it is evident that the introduction to it was unpremeditated.'

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 accomplished 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.

But notwithstanding his authority and his arguments, I cannot help being of opinion, that the present method of dividing a sermon into heads, ought not to be laid aside. Established practice has now given it so much weight, that, were there nothing more in its favour, it would be dangerous for any preacher to deviate so far from the common track. But the practice itself has also, in my judgment, much reason on its side. If formal partitions give a sermon less of the oratorical appearance, they render it, however, more clear, more easily apprehended, and, of course, more instructive to the bulk of hearers, which is always the main object to be kept in view. The heads of a sermon are great assistances to the memory and recollection of a hearer. They serve also to fix his attention. They enable him more easily to keep pace with the progress of the discourse; they give him pauses and resting places, where he can reflect on what has been said, and look forward to what is to follow. They are attended with this advantage too, that they give the audience the opportunity of knowing, beforehand, when they are to be released from the fatigue of attention, and thereby make them follow the speaker more patiently. ficit audientem,' says Quintilian, taking notice of this very advantage of divisions in other discourses, 'Reficit audientem certo sin

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