press can never supersede the orator in his distinctive province; which is not, be it remembered, to inform or misinform his audience by narration of fact or fiction, more or less dully or drolly, but to win them to his purposes by force of manner, whether he informs or excites, argues or illustrates. This manner is the differentia (as a logician would say) of the orator. But this is a function not to be supplied by the press-even in any probable improvement of its character and composition. Again; it is to be considered that the press is an agency which works both ways;" if it serves to explain and enforce the measures of a ministry, it is equally efficient and available to thwart and misrepresent them. Its conflictions in this way-which, however curious, this is not the place to deduce at length-seem to result in the establishment of a species of equilibrium, which leaves the modern orator upon an equal (though a dissimilar) footing with the ancient. Our meaning will be clearer, perhaps, in the moot question, as to thegreater happiness" of man in the civilized or in the savage state; or as it is put more precisely in Hume's position: That a girl going to a ball, in her first full dress, is as happy as Cicero descending from the forum with the laurels of eloquence around his brow. It is a nicer matter than such as do not reflect can imagine—at least, if the measure of happiness be allowed, rationally, to depend upon the ratio between gratification and desire. Civilization brings an increase of comforts (including, of course, that "daily bread," the morning paper); but does it not also bring a multiplication of wants in the same, or a higher, proportion? So with the modern statesman, if journalism gives him new facilities to advance his objects, it furnishes also a full counterweight of opposition for him to combat. Have the government journals left nothing to do for the powerful oratory of M. Guizot? and is it not by means of that oratory-and of it alonethat he has braved, for a period unprecedented in his office, the majority of the press, and, perhaps, of the people, of France?

That oratory is not now the power that it was of old is, therefore, not because it has been superseded, but because it has degenerated. The cause of this defection is a point of infinite dispute among those who have too much sagacity to be satisfied with the easy expla

nation just discussed. And as it is a matter of the first moment to our subject, to our country, as well as to the cause of education in general, we shall stop to submit a solution, which, it is believed, will have the merit of being new, if none other less equivocal.

Aristotle and Quinctilian, with their followers-under whatever transformation of manufacture and quackery—are still the masters of rhetoric in our educational institutions; Demosthenes, Cicero, &c., its model examples. To this undeniable fact we trace the as evident inefficiency of the rhetorical instruction, meagre as it is, which is taught in our colleges. This course is worse than inefficient; it is perverse, inasmuch as it operates to the diversion of attention and inquiry from the contrivance of a better. It is inefficient; for the plain reason, that it is the oratory of a remote age, of a far different people, of a very dissimilar civilization. A necessary result of this difference is, a corresponding one in the form of the oratorical art. But the subject matter, moreover, of the ancient orations which are read in our schools, is still more incongruous. What more of interest or reality to the American student have the peculations of Verres, the enfranchisement of Archius, or the memorable contest "de corona" between the two illustrious Athenians, than if we were to revive the Suasoria of the school declamations, so severely ridiculed by Juvenal, and denounced, particularly in the elegant dialogue on oratory attributed to Tacitus, as having caused the corruption and decline of Roman eloquence? The former, though founded upon real occurrences, have to us the same pernicious inanity. And if it be said that the orations of Cicero are not taught for their matter, it is answer enough here, that to separate the form (allowing this to be unexceptionable) were an effort of abstraction beyond the competency of most learners-not to say, of the teachers.

We surely have no disposition to depreciate these immortal ancients; our disposition is rather the reverse. Twenty centuries' possession has established their title to the throne of eloquence; and their dominion, in our judgment, should endure forever, if oratory were an exception to every other art, in being capable of absolute, not merely of relative excellence. But no: All arts, to be effective, that is, to be art, must conform their methods to the changes of their objects or materials; and

oratory has to do with the most shifting of all, perhaps with men, their passions, their interests, their pursuits. But these, in the present age, are all fallen below their ancient dignity or elevation: or soar above it, as we are assured by the philosophers of "progressive Democracy." At all events-what is alone to our purpose--they are no longer in the same plane. And if those orators in question continue still, indeed, the proverbs of eloquence upon every tongue, they are revered only as the more enlightened heathens worshiped their gods; not that we believe in their divinity, or observe their precepts, but partly because our parents and their predecessors had knelt at the same altar, and partly too, perhaps, from calculations of interest or impulses of vanity. Only let our professions be tested by acts. What orator or advocate would now be found to utter before a tribunal, in this country or England, the elaborate exordium (for example) of the oration for Milo, or even its more natural peroration, whose masterly pathos must, however, be the same to every age, and which, for our own part, we cannot still reperuse, for a fiftieth time, without tears a tribute never extorted by any modern oration? Why, he would be laughed out of court, or at the least, out of countenance. Would the wildest of our Fourth of July "orators" venture upon invoking solemnly the shades of the "heroes who fell at Saratoga," or "Bunker Hill?" It would appear ridiculous, even to the ridiculous passions commonly uppermost on these occasions. Why? Only because, it would be out of joint with the times, in Hamlet's language. For the same reason it is that nothing can be more frigid, as Lord Shaftesbury remarks, than the invocation of the Muse by a modern. Accordingly, the shrewd author of Hudibras invokes a pot of beer-the Helicon most congenial, on many accounts to our day as well as his; as may be judged from his enumeration of its inspirative virtues: "Thou, that with ale or viler liquors

Didst inspire Withers, Pryn and Vikars, And force them, though it was in spite Of nature and their stars, to write." &c. -Just the thing, for the intellectual exigence of our times! So, Milton, also, qualifies his invocation of Urania, by adding:

"The meaning, not the name, I call." And Byron's "Hail, Muse! et cetera," hits off the same transmutation of the

æval sentiment, with the characteristic felicity of his poet instinct and profound irony.

For the rest, this inapplicability of the ancient forms of oratory is indeed of common observation. But the mode of accounting for it is, by the sage reflection, that the days of Eloquence, like those of Chivalry, are gone. Of Ciceronian eloquence, true, alas! But eloquence, in some form, and capable of equal artistic perfection, can, in our opinion, pass away only with humanity itself; of which it is, essentially, the expression. Man, in the progress of civilization, passes through a variety of phases in manners, views, interests, and external circumstances, remaining, however, in fundamentals, much the same. The arts, therefore, which are subservient to this accidental mutation, in order to flourish, must follow man through a corresponding succession of adaptations. This correlation seems to be a universal law, or condition, of art of all sorts; all having man for their centre of reference. We observe and obey the necessity in the civil institutions and organic laws of society. An adaptation of this sort then, in fine, is what we need in oratory, or, to use a phrase just in fashion, a reorganization of the art. We may add-to confirm farther our position, as well as extend the benefits of the recipe-that such seems to be the present predicament of the more strictly æsthetical arts in general; of whose "decline," especially the "drama's," we hear so much complaint, in strains too, more tragically (perhaps because more feelingly) uttered than the "damned" contributions to their support or revival. The grand mistake here too is, that we set to imitating the productions of other, generally remote, ages, instead of aiming (as those ages had to do, of necessity) to produce the perfection proper to our own. For each age, and indeed each nation, nay, each individual perhaps, not utterly brutified, has within it or him an ideal world correlative to the actual in which he, or it, has lived and moved, and of which it is the collective result, the characteristic reflection. By of the age-to the heart of the time, if we addressing themselves to this inner life might talk transcendentally-it is that genius and art have worked their wonders never by imitation. Where were the Roman or Florentine galleries to form a Praxitiles or an Apelles; and especially their earlier countrymen Myron and

Zeuxis, with the latter of whose four simple colors our modern "artists" could hardly execute a decent signboard? Where were the models for an Angelo and a Raphael? Had there been such, these great painters, perhaps, had never become the models they now are, themselves. Indeed this is scarcely left to conjecture. It is remarkable that there arose no Italian sculptor in their age, or indeed since, (notwithstanding Canova,) of a corresponding rank of excellence. Yet this art had over its sister the advantage, as it is esteemed, of having for its guide and inspiration the first models in the world! What is the explanation of a state of facts (if we may use the expression) so paradoxical? Ours is this: The master-pieces of ancient statuary have descended to us; the materials of the painter have proved less enduring (may we say, fortunately?) than marble. In the former art the modern student repaired to the Vatican of Rome, and petrified his talent (when he had any) by the study of stones, into the dull faultlessness of mediocrity; while the painter had to resort to the vatican of nature, and draw from the glorious gallery within his own glowing soul. Triter instances are, Homer who has never been approached in the Epic; nor Sophocles, in Tragedy; nor Demosthenes in Oratory. Where were their models? This has long been a standing marvel among critics. For our part, the marvel to us would be that it had happened otherwise, in the circumstances. The creations of those early authors which have descended with the stream of civilization itself, have subjugated all subsequent genius to their authority; have been, in fact, received as the law of their respective arts, by man, that most imitative of all animals, or rather more prone than the others (be cause of the faculty of thought) to shrink from the void and seize on the positive though that positive were but a straw. Shakspeare has succeeded: but it was in happy ignorance of his classical predecessors, as it is often in outrage (we cannot call it happy) of their rules. With the classical erudition of Ben Jonson, he probably had not come down to us as the first of British dramatists. But what English successor, or German disciple of Shakspeare has equaled Shakspeare?

The same freedom which left Shakspeare to nature and his own genius, has made Alfieri, in like manner, the first dramatist of his country; for this wayward being, we are told, was ignorant of even the Greek alphabet, and had never read a Greek play in translation, at a time when he had written the greater part of those pieces which are amongst the noblest effusions of the tragic muse. But this line of illustration might be carried through all art and literature, were we not lured too far already beyond our limits, if not beside our subject.

The worst evil of imitation then is not merely the fact that it is always inferior to the model, as that must be always behind which follows. Nor yet that the principal excellence of its original cannot be imitated, it being an emanation of genius-a thing of instinct not of rule. It is not what it fails and must fail in ; but what it forfeits and prevents. The grand' mischief is, that its prevalence in an age, or in a people, stunts irretrievably the growth of all genius, by turning its meditation outward, swaddling it with rules, and tying it down to a particular subject or school; instead of leaving it its own boundless range and buoyant wing and gifted intuition, to seek forms of beauty through the immensity of the imagination. Here-finding or failing-it equally is invigorated for higher creation, by the mere pursuit; for intellect, like the poet's fame, reverses the laws of material motion, et vires acquirat eundo. We say, therefore, to our artists of all species, but especially those of the pen, Imitate not at all; retire into your own bosoms, where alone (or it is nowhere) is your fountain of inspiration. Pectus est enim quod desertos facit, et vis animi, is an axiom as true of the other arts as it is of eloquence. To close, in fine, and confirm this little disquisition, we trust it will not be deemed falling into pedantry to quote another passage from the author just cited-at once, perhaps, the most polished and profound of critics-wherein we find our meaning recapitulated with equal brevity and force: Namque eis, quæ in exemplum assumimus, SUBEST NATURA ET VERA VIS; contra omnis imitatio ficta est, ET AD ALIENUM PROPOSITUM ACCOMMODATUR.

With regard to our immediate subject:

What is requisite to the actual plan of oratorical instruction-whether the merely academic or a subsequent preparation, for the senate, the bar, or the pulpit-is not imitation of the past, but adaptation to the present; a modification of the principles of the art in harmony with the sentiments, theories, pursuits, as well as the institutions, of our age and people.

Nowhere is something of this sort more needed than under a government like ours, as nowhere is it more important. We are sorry to have to add, that, also, the " consummation" is nowhere more hopeless. We are overshadowed by the laws, and especially the literature, of a foreign people; that is, by the two influences which are more powerful than all the others together, not merely in controlling national progress, but even in conforming national character. And it is known, and seen, that we are to expect from the shade but the usual growth of brambles and brushwood. The translator, in a note on the place of Ceba now under consideration, remarks, that the English call us a "nation of orators." We have never heard or seen the compliment, at least unqualified by an epithet, which Mr. Lester may have deemed unfit for ears patriotic, if not also for "ears polite." He concedes, however, there is no country in the world where there is "so much bad speaking." How should it be otherwise, if, indeed, all speak? But it had been more to the purpose to say where there is so little good speaking. And this is a remarkable fact. A large plurality of our male mature population are brought up, more or less, in the habit of public conference. Many of them "taking the stump," it is true, with few other advantages than vigor of lung and village politics; but also an enormous proportion entering the bar, the tribune or the pulpit, who must be assumed (if but in courtesy to those learned" professions) to have obtained a regular education. Assuredly, there is not another country in the world-we say it with just republican pride-where talent is so little left (or, rather leaves itself) unknown. Yet, we believe, after all, our public speakers, having any claim to real eloquence, would not greatly outnumber the just men of Sodom. It does not appear to be so with other peoples, even in.circumstances the most unfavorable. See in France, what a blaze of eloquence broke forth with the Revolution! What a brilliant band of orators

arose at once, as if by some Cadmean creation; and this from among a generation brought up amid the double night (as we Protestant republicans must regard it) of political and spiritual darkness and despotism! In Ireland, also, where some years ago anti-tythe meetings were held in all parts of the country, it was observable that every district could furnish half-a-dozen speakers, who, without having, most of them, ever before addressed a public assembly, were at the least respectable, for matter and method as well as style. These rapprochements are not flattering, we are aware; and it is partly for this reason that we make them. There are flatterers enough without us. And it is only to men by whom these flatterers are no less detested for their mischief, than disdained for their meanness, that we care to address these reflections.

The note goes on to ascribe this national defect, or deficiency, to "want of preparation;" which is perfectly just, in a certain sense. But is it in the sense of particular preparation for the occasions of business, as Mr. Lester means? We think not. It is well-too well-known to the printers at Washington, and the other capitals of the several States, that our lawmakers bring on their speeches as often, at least, in their pockets as in their heads. The preparation really neglected and needed is, the general, the fundamental one of education, of information, discipline, study. This is the only effectual preparation, and once well made, it leaves no need for future "cramming." Hence it is that such men as Webster are found equally prepared to speak at all times and on all subjects, and speak eloquently and inexhaustibly. This is, indeed, a description of the real orator: for "eloquence" (as Bolingbroke has somewhere expressed it) "must flow like a stream that is fed by an abundant spring, and not spout forth like a frothy water on some gala day, but remain dry the rest of the year." Here, one wouid fancy, are prophetically imaged the eloquence of Webster as contrasted with that which is seen everywhere around him. The oratory of this truly great man comes the nearest to our conception of the eloquence above alluded to as proper to this agethe eloquence (as it might be called) of affairs, or business, in the widest sense of this term. It would be much to our purpose and to our pleasure, to illustrate its characteristics by an analysis of Mr.

Webster's manner, had we not, in taking up this subject, resolved, for reasons of our own, to avoid all particular reference to American statesmen.

Ceba, in the succeeding chapters, proceeds to inculcate the several branches of knowledge with which the orator, as the Statesman, should store his mind, viz., Natural and Moral Philosophy, History, Political Economy, the Art of War, of Administration, the Mathematical Sciences, Poetry. This enumeration would be incomplete for the present day. He properly begins with Moral Philosophy, as furnishing the principles which ought to govern the employment of the whole. Here he wisely recommends (what is as applicable, we think, to every citizen as to the statesman) that the latter, in order to cultivate the habit for public use, should be rigorously observant of order, economy and integrity, in his family and private affairs. For it is of these aggregations of individuals and of interests that the State is composed; and, (as our author argues, after his manner,) had Cataline been well brought up in his father's house, he would, probably, have never conspired against the liberty of his country. Illustrating the expedience of economy, he observes, with great truth, that poverty is often the mother of crime; for private profusion and public rapacity are naturally and necessarily connected-or, as somewhat uncouthly rendered by the translator, the recklessness of one's own goods and usurping those of others are two things which, as Plutarch teaches us" (quære, Sallustalieni appetens, sui profusus) "are by necessary relations chained together."

Space will not allow us to even touch upon the others. As to the head of Poetry, it belongs, in a system of political education, to the department of rhetoric. Ceba echoes what we think to be a misapprehension, however general, respecting Plato's proscribing poetry from his ideal Republic. It was not as poetry; but (as Warburton has well noted) upon theological grounds. It was because the mythology of Homer, and other poets of those ages, had a tendency to impair the governmental sanction of a future state, which Plato believed, as politicians believe or affect to believe at the present day, to be derivable from popular superstition. Our author might have surmised something of this kind, from even the saying of the same Plato, which, in the next page, he quotes for a contradiction:

that "the poets were the fathers and the chiefs of wisdom." But this avowal was addressed to a philosopher; the Republic, in which the poets are supposed to be outlawed, to the multitude. There is here no contradiction. And the mistake in question probably first arose from confounding the two modes of exposition-the esoterical and exotericalemployed, as is familiarly known, by the ancient teachers, according to the degree of intelligence of their audience.

Having thus indicated the intellectual accomplishments of his ideal Citizen, Ceba goes on to consider the moral virtues he is to acquire. In these matters there is little new to dwell upon. Were they but practiced, as well as they are apprehended, there would be no pressing need, we trow, of fresh instruction. There is here, however, a distinction as to the nature of virtue in general, which, if more commonly understood, or attended to, would not fail to introduce much perspicuity, and exclude some inconsistency, from our current systems of morality. The author begins with distinguishing between Habit and Disposition: in which, be it said, he is not very clear, we suspect, in the original, and is quite unintelligible, we are certain, in the translation. On this point we have, therefore, to refer (as it is one of importance) the inquiring reader to Tucker's

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Light of Nature," who treats this and kindred subjects with a depth of analysis and a felicity of illustration unequaled, as far as we know, by any other modern or ancient writer.

Ceba, placing (as we conceive him) habit in the constant act, disposition in the continuous state, of restraining the passions, explains as thus: That the disposition which inclines the passions to or from the appetite (for example) named lust, is called Continence or Incontinence, according as it is well, or ill, directed; and that which exercises them in irascibility is termed Patience or Anger, (rendered by our good translator Tolerance or Tenderness?) according to the same rule. Upon which he then remarks, that Continence and Patience are not properly virtues, nor their opposites properly vices; but only tendencies to become, according to consequences, the one thing or the other, respectively; that they are what were termed "imperfect” (not unformed, as the translator travesties it) virtues and vices by Grotius, and, after him, by Paley and other ethical phi