not despise the beauty of language. It is an object of his attention. But his attention is shown in the choice of words, and in a graceful collocation of them, rather than in any high efforts of imagination, or eloquence. His sentences are always clean, and free from the encumbrance of superfluous words; of a moderate length; rather inclining to brevity, than a swelling structure; closing with propriety; without any tails, or adjections dragging after the proper close. His cadence is varied; but not of the studied musical kind. His figures, if he uses any, are short and correct, rather than bold and glowing. Such a style as this may be attained by a writer who has no great powers of fancy or genius; by industry merely, and careful attention to the rules of writing; and it is a style always agreeable. It imprints a character of moderate elevation on our composition, and carries a decent degree of ornament, which is not unsuitable to any subject whatever. A familiar letter, or a law paper, on the driest subject, may be written with neatness; and a sermon, or a philosophical treatise, in a neat style, will be read with pleasure. An elegant style is a character, expressing a higher degree of ornament than a neat one: and, indeed, is the term usually applied to style, when possessing all the virtues of ornament, without any of its excesses or defects. From what has been formerly delivered, it will easily be understood, that complete elegance implies great perspicuity and propriety; purity in the choice of words, and care and dexterity in their harmonious and happy arrangement. It implies, farther, the grace and beauty of imagination spread over style, as far as the subject admits it; and all the illustration which figurative language adds, when properly employed. In a word, an elegant writer is one who pleases the fancy and the ear, while he informs the understanding; and who gives us his ideas clothed with all the beauty of expression, but not overcharged with any of its misplaced finery. In this class, therefore, we place only the first-rate writers in the language; such as Addison, Dryden, Pope, Temple, Bolingbroke, Atterbury, and a few more: writers who differ widely from one another in many of the attributes of style, but whom we now class together, under the denomination of elegant, as, in the scale of ornament, possessing nearly the same place. When the ornaments, applied to style, are too rich and gaudy in proportion to the subject; when they return upon us too fast, and strike us either with a dazzling lustre, or a false brilliancy, this forms what is called a florid style; a term commonly used to signify the excess of ornament. In a young composer this is very pardonable. Perhaps it is even a promising symptom in young people, that their style should incline to the florid and luxuriant; "Volo se efferat in adolescente fæcunditas," says Quintilian, "multum inde decoquent anni, multum ratio limabit, aliquid velut usu ipso deteretur; sit modo unde excidi possit quid et elxscupi. Audeat hæc ætas plura, et inveniat et inventis gaudeat ; sint licet illa non satis interim sicca et severa. Facile remedium est ubertatis sterilia nullo labore vincuntur."* But, although the florid style "In youth, I wish to see luxuriancy of fancy appear. Much of it will be diminished by years; much will be corrected by ripening judgment; some of it, by the mere practice of composition, will be worn away. Let there be only sufficient matter at first, that can bear some pruning and lopping off. At this time of life, let genius be bold and inventive, and pride itself in its efforts, though these should not, as yet, be correct. Luxuriancy can easily be cured; but for barrenness there is no remedy." may be allowed to youth, in their first essays, it must not receive the same indulgence from writers of maturer years. It is to be expected, that judgment, as it ripens, should chasten imagination, and reject, as juvenile, all such ornaments as are redundant, unsuitable to the subject, or not conducive to illustrate it. Nothing can be more contemptible than that tinsel splendour of language, which some writers perpetually affect. It were well, if this could be ascribed to the real overflowing of a rich imagination. We should then have something to amuse us, at least, if we found little to instruct us. But the worst is, that with those frothy writers, it is a luxuriancy of words, not of fancy. We see a laboured attempt to rise to a splendour of composition, of which they have formed to themselves some loose idea; but having no strength of genius for attaining it, they endeavour to supply the defect by poetical words, by cold exclamations, by commonplace figures, and every thing that has the appearance of pomp and magnificence. It has escaped these writers, that sobriety in ornament is one great secret for rendering it pleasing ; and that without a foundation of good sense and solid thought, the most florid style is but a childish imposition on the public. The public, however, are but too apt to be so imposed on at least the mob of readers, who are very ready to be caught, at first, with whatever is dazzling and gaudy. I cannot help thinking, that it reflects more honour on the religious turn, and good dispositions of the present age, that on the public taste, that Mr. Hervey's Meditations have had so great a currency. The pious and benevolent heart, which is always displayed in them, and the lively fancy which, on some occasions, appears, justly merited applause: but the perpetual glitter of expression, the swoln imagery, and strained description which abound in them, are ornaments of a false kind. I would, therefore, advise students of oratory to imitate Mr. Hervey's piety rather than his style and, in all compositions of a serious kind, to turn their attention, as Mr. Pope says, "from sounds to things, from fancy to the heart." Admonitions of this kind, I have already had occasion to give, and may hereafter repeat them; as I conceive nothing more incumbent on me in this course of lectures, than to take every opportunity of cautioning my readers against the affected and frivolous use of ornament; and instead of that slight and superficial taste in writing, which I apprehend to be at present too fashionable, to introduce, as far as my endeavours can avail, a taste for more solid thought, and more manly simplicity in style. LECTURE XIX. GENERAL CHARACTERS OF STYLE-SIMPLE, AFFECTED, HAVING entered, in the last lecture, on the consideration of the general characters of style, I treated of the concise and diffuse, the nervous and feeble manner. I consider style also, with relation to the different degrees of ornament employed to beautify it, in which view, the manner of different authors rises according to the following gradation; dry, plain, neat, elegant, flowery. I am next to treat of style under another character, one of great importance in writing, and which requires to be accurately examined, that of simplicity, or a natural style, as distinguished from affectation. Simplicity, applied to writing, is a term very frequently used; but, like many other critical terms, often used loosely and without precision.This has been owing chiefly to the different meanings given to the word simplicity, which, therefore, it will be necessary here to distinguish ; and to show in what sense it is a proper attribute of style. We may remark four different acceptations in which it is taken. The first is, simplicity of composition, as opposed to too great a variety of parts. Horace's precept refers to this: Denique sit quod vis simplex duntaxat et unum.* This is the simplicity of plan in a tragedy, as distinguished from double plots, and crowded incidents; the simplicity of the Iliad, or Æneid, in opposition to the digressions of Lucan, and the scattered tales of Ariosto; the simplicity of Grecian architecture, in opposition to the irregular variety of the Gothic. In this sense, simplicity is the same with unity. The second sense is, simplicity of thought, as opposed to refinement. Simple thoughts are what arise naturally; what the occasion or the subject suggests unsought; and what, when once suggested, are easily apprehended by all. Refinement in writing, expresses a less natural and obvious train of thought, and which it required a peculiar turn of genius to pursue; within certain bounds very beautiful; but when carried too far, approaching to intricacy, and hurting us by the appearance of being recherché, or far-sought. Thus, we would naturally say, that Mr. Parnell is a poet of far greater simplicity, in his turn of thought, than Mr. Cowley Cicero's thoughts on moral subjects are natural; Seneca's too refined and laboured. In these two senses of simplicity, when it is opposed, either to variety of parts, or to refinement of thought, it has no proper relation to style. There is a third sense of simplicity, in which it has respect to style ; and stands opposed to too much ornament or pomp of language; as when we say, Mr. Locke is a simple, Mr. Hervey a florid writer; and it is in this sense, that the "simplex," the "tenue," or "subtile genus dicendi," is understood by Cicero and Quintilian. The simple style, in this sense, coincides with the plain or the neat style, which I before mentioned; and, therefore, requires no farther illustration. But there is a fourth sense of simplicity, also, respecting style; but not respecting the degree of ornament employed, so much as the easy and natural manner in which our language expresses our thoughts. This is quite different from the former sense of the word just now mentioned, in which simplicity was equivalent to plainness: whereas, in this sense, it is compatible with the highest ornament. Homer, for instance, possesses this simplicity in the greatest perfection; and yet no writer has more ornament and beauty, This simplicity, which is what we are now to consider, stands opposed, not to ornament, but to affecta "Then learn the wand'ring humour to contro!, FRANCIS. tion of ornament, or appearance of labour about our style; and it is a distinguishing excellency in writing. A writer of simplicity expresses himself in such a manner, that every one thinks he could have written in the same way; Horace describes it, ut sibi quivis Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraque laboret There are no marks of art in his expression: it seems the very language of nature; you see in the style, not the writer and his labour, but the man in his own natural character. He may be rich in his expression; he may be full of figures, and of fancy; but these flow from him without effort; and he appears to write in this manner, not because he has studied it, but because it is the manner of expression most natural to him. A certain degree of negligence, also, is not inconsistent with this character of style, and even not ungraceful in it; for too minute an attention to words is foreign to it: "Habeat ille," says Cicero, (Orat. No. 77) "molle quiddam, et quod indice non ingratam negligentiam hominis, de re magis quam de verbo laborantis." This is the great advantage of simplicity of style, that, like simplicity of manners, it shows us a man's sentiments and turn of mind laid open without disguise. More studied and artificial manners of writing, however beautiful, have always this disadvantage, that they exhibit an author in form, like a man at court, where the splendour of dress, and the ceremonial of behaviour, conceal those peculiarities which distinguish one man from another. But reading an author of simplicity, is like conversing with a person of distinction at home, and with ease, where we find natural manners, and a marked character. The highest degree of this simplicity, is expressed by a French term, to which we have none that fully answers in our language, naiveté. It is not easy to give a precise idea of the import of this word. It always expresses a discovery of character. I believe the best account of it is given by a French critic, M. Marmontel, who explains it thus: That sort of amiable ingenuity, or undisguised openness, which seems to give us some degree of superiority over the person who shows it; a certain infantine simplicity, which we love in our hearts, but which displays some features of the character that we think we could have art enough to hide; and which, therefore, always leads us to smile at the person who discovers this character. La Fontaine, in his Fables, is given as the great example of such naivete. This, however, is to be understood, as descriptive of a particular spécies only of simplicity. With respect to simplicity in general, we may remark, that the ancient original writers are always the most eminent for it. This happens from a plain reason, that they wrote from the dictates of natural genius, and were not formed upon the labours and writings of others, which is always in hazard of producing 'affectation. Hence, among the "From well-known tales such fictions would I raise, Yet while they strive the same success to gain, FRANCIS. "Let this style have certain softness and ease, which shall characterize a negligence, not unpleasing in an author, who appears to be more solicitous about the thought than the expression." A a Greek writers, we have more models of a beautiful simplicity than among the Roman. Homer, Hesiod, Anacreon, Theocritus, Herodotus, and Xenophon, are all distinguished for it. Among the Romans also, we have some writers of this character, particularly Terence, Lucretius, Phædrus, and Julius Cæsar. The following passage of Terence's Andria, is a beautiful instance of simplicity of manner in description. Funus interim Procedit; sequimur; ad sepulchrum venimus; Mea Glycerium, inquit, quid agis? Cur te is perditum ? All the words here are remarkably happy and elegant; and convey a most lively picture of the scene described; while, at the same time, the style appears wholly artless and unlaboured. Let us, next, consider some English writers who come under this class. Simplicity is the great beauty of Archbishop Tillotson's manner. Tillotson has long been admired as an eloquent writer and a model for preaching. But his eloquence, if we can call it such, has often been misunderstood. For, if we include, in the idea of eloquence, vehemence and strength, picturesque description, glowing figures, or correct arrangement of sentences, in all these parts of oratory the Archbishop is exceedingly deficient. His style is always pure, indeed, and perspicuous, but careless and remiss, too often feeble and languid; little beauty in the construction of his sentences, which are frequently suffered to drag unharmoniously; seldom any attempt towards strength or sublimity. But, notwithstanding these defects, such a constant vein of good sense and piety runs through his works, such an earnest and serious manner, and so much useful instruction conveyed in a style so pure, natural, and unaffected, as will justly recommend him to a high regard, as long as the English language remains; not, indeed, as a model of the highest eloquence, but as a simple and amiable writer, whose manner is strongly expressive of great goodness and worth. I observed before, that simplicity of manner may be consistent with some degree of negligence in style, and it is only the beauty of that simplicity which makes the negligence of such writers seem graceful. But, as appears in the Archbishop, negligence may sometimes be carried so far as to impair the beauty of simplicity, and make it border on a flat and languid man ner. "Meanwhile the funeral proceeds; we follow Ran to the flames with peril of her life. There! there! the frighted Pamphilius betrays His well-dissembled and long-hidden love; Runs up and takes her round the waist, and cries, COLMAN |