APPENDIX.

I. THE DEFINITION OF RHETORIC.

Two objections have been brought against Prof. Day's definition of Rhetoric, accepted in the text ;-(1) That it is equally true of Grammar; (2) That it characterizes Rhetoric only as an art. Each of these objections demands attention.

First, According to the objectors, Grammar as well as Rhetoric teaches the laws of speech and writing : Rhetoric seeks to make discourse effective; it teaches men, not only how to convey intelligence to other minds, but how to obtain over these other minds a mastery. The time-honored definition of Grammar describes it as teaching men how to speak and write. Surely Rhetoric is something more than this; and in what, if not in adapting discourse to its purpose, or end in view?

But all this proceeds upon a time-honored misconception of the office of Grammar, which has not necessarily anything to do with speaking and writing. Grammar seeks only to discover and establish in a system the theory of the sentence: Rhetoric deals with the whole composition, and with the sentence as only one part of this whole. Grammar is not an art, but a science: it aims at knowledge, not at skill.1 The ancient definition of Grammar simply confused it with Composition; for, the moment Grammar gives lessons in composition, that moment it becomes Rhetoric, on however low a plane. Campbell long ago commented on the close-lying border lands of Grammar and Rhetoric; and, but for his faulty definition of Rhetoric, he might have commented, also, on the erroneous definition of Grammar. Further, the words effective, etc. add nothing to Prof. Day's definition of Rhetoric: the qualification they express is already in the word art; for all arts aim at efficiency. and the only possible results of adding a qualifying term to the definition are to set up a tautology and to give color to the unjust aspersion of Rhetoric as an art that teaches an unusual, bookish, or fussily ornamented style of writing-the very mode 1 See p. 331, below.

of expression that a true Rhetoric pillories as mere "jewelry and rouge," the acme of the unrhetorical, because it is unnatural and displeasing to every cultivated mind.

Secondly, Rhetoric is often defined as a science as well as an art; but in no true sense is Rhetoric a science. It discovers nothing; it simply states laws that are true in the nature of man, and grounded on principles furnished by its nomothetical sciences. To argue this question fully needs the light of certain distinctions to be set out in the next section of this Appendix. Before passing to these distinctions, however, a glance must be thrown at several other definitions of Rhetoric anciently or even still adopted by many writers.

(1) The Ancients, whose only means of addressing large bodies was speech, and who had only written books and but few of them, naturally thought of Rhetoric as the art of Oratory, or Spoken Discourse. (2) Many writers, both ancient and modern, have limited the art to Prose Composition, excluding Poetry (or both Romance and Poetry) as fine arts. The end of Poetry (and Romance), they say, is to please; while Rhetoric strives after an outward end, "that mastery over other minds which it does not quietly wait for, but obtains by a struggle." 3 (3) Whately, accepting Aristotle's dictum, "Rhetoric is an offshoot [avríorpopos] from Logic," still further limits Rhetoric to Argument, and practically considers Persuasion as the end of the art. (4) On the other hand, Quintilian extended the province of the art. In his view, Rhetoric was “more like an encyclopædia of all arts and sciences, than a limited and specific branch of knowledge." It included "everything that could conduce to the attainment of the object proposed-Law, Morals, Politics, etc., on the ground that a knowledge of these subjects is requisite to enable a man to speak well on them.'

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On these definitions, the following criticisms seem just. (1) The Ancients' definition of Rhetoric was due solely to their circumstances. Had they known printed books, or had even the manuscript copies of their books been many in number, they would doubtless have extended the scope of their art. As things were, they were by no means ignorant that much of their teaching applied equally to writing.5 (2) The restriction of Rhetoric to Prose Composition is often useful by way of limiting the scope Theremin, Eloquence A Virtue, I. ii. · Whately, I.

12 16, above. 2273, above. 4Shedd, Literary Essays, p. 106.

of a text-book or a course of study; but it can not be maintained in a definition of the art. Many rules apply equally well in all kinds of compositions; and any restriction would be unscientific. (3) So, too, with regard to the proposed limiting of Rhetoric to Argument or Persuasion: the full definition of the art is squarely against the advocates of restriction; and nothing would be gained by it, but much lost. (4) Quintilian's extension of the art is equally unwise. Rhetoric is no more under obligation to supply the knowledge needed by a writer than is Architecture to supply bricks or mortar or other materials for building. One might almost as well insist upon its furnishing men with mental faculties. At the same time, Quintilian's notion that only a well-informed man can write well,-that, in this art, as everywhere in nature, nothing comes out of nothing, -is an important truth. Dr. Shedd's maxim, printed on the title-page of this volume, is even more binding on the writer, who addresses his thousands, than on the speaker, who has comparatively a small audience.

II. THE SCIENCES THAT GIVE LAWS TO RHETORIC.

The relations of Rhetoric to its nomothetical sciences will be better understood, perhaps, in a careful consideration of the following distinctions.

1. Science, Art, CRITICISM.-Science analyzes the finished art-product or other fact presented to it, in order to discover the laws of its being. By way of preparation, it observes and classifies all the related facts and processes. Its work, therefore, is one of discovery, and tends to knowledge. Art teaches the rules by which this finished product is constructed; either grounding these rules upon the related science or sciences, or stating them arbitrarily. Its work, therefore, is essentially constructive, and tends to skill. "It uses knowledge, not as knowledge, but as power.' Criticism examines the product, in order to pronounce upon its merits or demerits, basing itself upon knowledge of both the art-rules and the scientific principles. Its work, therefore, is judgment, and tends to the improvement of the art-product.

2. PURE AND APPLIED SCIENCE.-Science is either Pure or Applied;-Pure, when it teaches necessary truths as abstract 1 A. S. Hill, p. iii.

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propositions; Applied, when it adapts these truths to particular concrete cases. 'Applied Science is a knowledge of facts, events, or phenomena, as explained, accounted for, or produced by means of powers, causes, or laws. Pure Science is the knowledge of these powers, causes, or laws, considered apart, or as pure from all applications." Hence, the principles of pure science are always true, true in themselves and in all possible cases: the principles of applied science are true only as applied, and in the special cases.

3. THEORY.-Theory is a body of scientific principles underlying and explaining or justifying the rules of an art; or it is the study of these rules viewed in the light of their underlying principles. Hence, it is properly opposed to Practice,—a sense, says Sir William Hamilton,1 in which it both was known to the Ancients and is now commonly used on the continent of Europe. Hence, (1) Art is more than Applied Science; for the latter is content to know the truth in the special case, while the former is dissatisfied until it has done the work that the application of the truth enables it to do. Art promotes skill; Applied Science teaches special truths. For example, Surveying may be taught either as an applied science or as an art. As the one, it seeks only knowledge for its own sake; as the other, it seeks to make skilled surveyors. (2) Science and Art are incompatible terms,—terms, that is, which are not affirmable of the same object at the same time. The same name, indeed, may be given to both science and art;-for example, to Mechanics, which is either "the science of the action of forces on bodies" or the art of constructing machines and other mechanical contrivances ;-but, unless the two things so named are only one and the same thing, it is no more true that they are at once a science and an art, than it is that two men, both named John Smith, are only one man. Confusion is often created by this loose way of speaking, and serious errors have been inculcated by it. (3) Science and Theory, though often interchanged, are, in fact, essentially different terms, and should not be confused. The scientific principles on which an art is based are often drawn (as is the case in Rhetoric) from several nomothetical sciences; and, in this case, though they constitute a theory, they can not be said to constitute a science: they are only excerpts from several sciences. Even when they all come from a sin1 Metaphysics, Edited by Bowen, p. 113.

gle science, they are, with reference to the art, plainly not a science but only a body of scientific principles underlying the rules of an art,—that is, a theory. This error has led to erroneous definitions, as well as to false, and, therefore, misleading, conceptions of the nature of art.

In order of time, the art-product is always evolved first; then come rules; and finally, the underlying theory is made out, and both rules and theory are arranged in a system. (1) Practice necessarily precedes theory; for neither scientific principles nor rules for work can be discovered except through experience, and this experience "can have no foundation, other than previous practice. Such must obviously be the case with all the arts. Many a house must have been built, before a system of architecture could be formed; many a poem composed, before an art of poetry could be written."1 (2) Rules are always suggested by the work already done, and are inferred from it. At first, they are but "rules of thumb,"-mere dicta of experience, liable to revision, correction, and even retractation; but later, when brought to the bar of Criticism and carefully tested, they become more accurate and more trustworthy.2 This criticism, it is true, is at first uncertain, because without a sufficient foundation in knowledge; but, the underlying arttheory being once detected,-knowledge exists abundantly, and Criticism has a fair field. (3) Finally, guesses are made at the "why" of the rules; scientific principles are brought forward to explain or justify them;—that is, a theory of the art is constructed; while the rules themselves are more and more revised, till they are perfected into a system. Thenceforward, the art, its theory, and intelligent criticism of the art-work are mutually dependent; each throws light upon the others; each helps to make the others perfect.

In the light of all this, Rhetoric is plainly not a science, but an art. Its end is to construct the composition, not to discover knowledge. Its rules are the dicta of experience; its underlying principles, truths drawn from four nomothetical sciences; and the phrase science of Rhetoric is simply a blunder for theory of Rhetoric.