severe in the choice of his words, must resolutely accept the first
that present themselves, encourage the flow of thought, and leave
epithets and phraseology to chance. Neither will his intrepidity, when
once acquired, go unrewarded: the happiest language will frequently
rush upon him, if, neglecting words, he do but keep his attention
confined to thoughts. Of thoughts too it is rather necessary for
him to deliver them boldly, following his immediate conceptions and
explaining away inaccuracies as they occur, than to seek severe
precision in the first instance. Hesitation is the death of eloquence;
and precision, like every other power, will increase by being
exercised. It is doubtless understood that I do not speak of orations
already written and digested; but of speeches in reply, in which any
laboured preparation is impossible.'

His lordship applauded the solution of the difficulty, and some of the
company observed the orator had given the history of his own mind.




CHAPTER IX


_Literary labours continued: The thermometer of hope still rising: The
sermon and the disappointed cravings of vanity_


To carry on two controversies at the same time was certainly
favourable to neither; except that abuse, or something very like it,
being the key common to both, the subjects were so far in unison.