to furnish us with new
ideas, to lead the mind into new trains of thought, to which it was before
unused, and which it was incapable of striking out for itself; or else to
collect and embody what we already knew, to rivet our old impressions more
deeply; to make what was before plain still plainer, and to give to that
which was familiar all the effect of novelty. In the one case we receive
an accession to the stock of our ideas; in the other, an additional
degree of life and energy is infused into them: our thoughts continue to
flow in the same channels, but their pulse is quickened and invigorated. I
do not know how to distinguish these different styles better than by
calling them severally the inventive and refined, or the impressive and
vigorous styles. It is only the subject-matter of eloquence, however,
which is allowed to be remote or obscure. The things in themselves may be
subtle and recondite, but they must be dragged out of their obscurity and
brought struggling to the light; they must be rendered plain and palpable,
(as far as it is in the wit of man to do so) or they are no longer
eloquence. That which by its natural impenetrability, and in spite of
every effort, remains dark and difficult, which is impervious to every
ray, on which the imagination can shed no lustre, which can be clothed
with no beauty, is not a subject for the orator or poet. At the same time
it cannot be expected that abstract truths or profound observations should
ever be placed in the same strong and dazzling points of view as natural
objects and mere matters of fact. It is enough if they receive a reflex
and borrowed lustre, like that which cheers the first dawn of morning,
where the effect of surprise and novelty gilds every object, and the joy
of beholding another world gradually emerging out of the gloom of night,
"a new creation rescued from his reign," fills the mind with a sober
rapture. Philosophical eloquence is in writing what _chiaro scuro_ is in
painting; he would be a fool who should object that the colours in the
shaded part of a picture were not so bright as those on the opposite side;
the eye of the connoisseur receives an equal delight from both, balancing
the want of brilliancy and effect with the greater delicacy of the tints,
and difficulty of the execution. In judging of Burke, therefore, we are to
consider first the style of eloquence which he adopted, and secondly the
effects which he produced with it. If he did not