ingenuity also; but infected with an extravagant love of an artificial style, and of that parade of language which distinguishes the Shaftsburean manner.

Having now said so much to recommend simplicity, or the easy and natural manner of writing, and having pointed out the defects of an opposite manner; in order to prevent mistakes on this subject, it is necessary for me to observe, that it is very possible for an author to write simply, and yet not beautifully. One may be free from affectation and not have merit. The beautiful simplicity supposes an author to possess real genius; to write with solidity, purity, and liveliness of imagination. In this case, the simplicity or unaffectedness of his manner, is the crowning ornament; it heightens every other beauty; it is the dress of nature, without which, all beauties are imperfect. But if mere unaffectedness, were sufficient to constitute the beauty of style, weak, trifling and dull writers might often lay claim to this beauty. And, accordingly we frequently meet with pretended critics, who extol the dullest writers on account of what they call the chaste simplicity of their manner;' which in truth, is no other than the absence of every ornament, through the mere want of genius and imagination. We must distinguish, therefore, between that simplicity which accompanies true genius, and which is perfectly compatible with every proper ornament of style, and that which is no other than a carcless and a slovenly manner. Indeed, the distinction is easily made from the effect produced. The one never fails to interest the reader; the other is insipid and tiresome.

I proceed to mention one other manner or character of style, different from any that I have yet spoken of; which may be distinguished by the name of the vehement. This always implies strength; and is not by any means, inconsistent with simplicity; but, in its predominant character, 13 distinguishable from either the strong or the simple manner. It has a peculiar ardour; it is a glowing style; the language of a man, whose imagination and passions are heated, and strongly affected by what he writes; who is therefore negligent of lesser graces, but pours himself forth with the rapidity and fullness of a torrent. It belongs to the higher kinds of oratory; and indeed is rather expected from a man who is speaking, than from one who is writing in his closet. The orations of Demosthenes furnish the full and perfect example of this species of style.

Among English writers, the one who has most of this character, though mixed, indeed, with several defects, is Lord Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke was formed by nature to be a factious leader; the demagogue of a popular assembly. Accordingly, the style that runs through all his political writings, is that of one declaiming with heat, rather than writing with deliberation. He abounds in rhetorical figures ; and pours himself forth with great impetuosity. He is copious to a fault; places the same thought before us in many different views; but generally with life and ardour. He is bold rather than correct; a torrent that flows strong, but often muddy. His sentences are varied as to length and shortness; inclining, however, most to long periods, sometimes including parenthesis, and frequently crowding and heaping a multitude of things upon one another, as naturally happens in the warmth of speaking. In the choice of his words, there is great facility and precision. In exact construction of sentences, he is much inferior to Lord Shaftesbury; but greatly

superior to him in life and ease. Upon the whole, his merit as a writer, would have been very considerable, if his matter had equalled his style. But while we find many things to commend in the latter, in the former, as I before remarked, we can hardly find any thing to commend. In his reasonings, for the most part, he is flimsy and false; in his political writings, factious; in what he calls his philosophical ones, irreligious and sophistical in the highest degree.

I shall insist no longer on the different manners of writers, or the general characters of style. Some other, besides those which I have mention. ed, might be pointed out; but I am sensible that it is very difficult to separate such general considerations of the style of authors from their peculiar turn of sentiment, which it is not my business, at present, to criticise. Conceited writers, for instance, discover their spirit, so much in their composition, that it imprints on their style a character of pert ness; though I confess, it is difficult to say, whether this can be classed among the attributes of style, or rather is to be ascribed entirely to the thought. In what ever class we rank it, all appearances of it ought to be avoided with care, as a most disgusting blemish in writing. Under the general heads, which I have considered, I have taken an opportunity of giving the character of many of the eminent classics in the English language.

From what I have said on this subject, it may be inferred, that to determine among all these different manners of writing, what is precisely the best, is neither easy, nor necessary. Style is a field that admits of great latitude. Its qualities in different authors may be very different; and yet in them all beautiful. Room must be left here for genius; for that particular determination which every one receives from nature to one manner of expression more than another. Some general qualities, indeed, there are of such importance, as should always, in every kind of composition, he kept in view; and some defects we should always, study to avoid. An ostentatious, a feeble, a harsh, or an obscure style. for instance, are always faults; and perspicuity, strength, neatness, and simplicity, are beauties to be always aimed at. But as to the mixture of all, or the degree of predominancy of any one of these good qualities, for forming our peculiar distinguishing manner, no precise rules can be given; nor will I venture to point out any one model as absolutely per

fect.

It will be more to the purpose, that I conclude these dissertations upon style, with a few directions concerning the proper method of attaining a good style, in general; leaving the particular character of that style to be either formed by the subject on which we write or prompted by the bent of genius.

The first direction which I give for this purpose is, to study clear ideas on the subject concerning which we are to write or speak. This is a di rection which may at first appear to have small relation to style. Its rela tion to it, however, is extremely close. The foundation of all good style. is good sense accompanied with a lively imagination. The style and and thoughts of a writer are so intimately connected, that, as I have seve ral times hinted, it is frequently hard to distinguish them. Whenever the impressions of things upon our minds are faint and indistinct, or perplexed and confused, our style in treating of such things will infallibly be so too. Whereas, what we conceive clearly and feel strongly, turally express with clearness and with strength. This, then, we may be

we

shall na

assured, is a capital rule as to style, to think closely on the subject, till we have attained a full and distinct view of the matter which we are to clothe in words, till we become warm and interested in it; then and not till then, shall we find expression begin to flow. Generally speaking, the best and most proper expressions, are those which a clear view of the subject suggests without much labour or inquiry after them. This is Quintilian's observation, lib viii. c. 1. Plerumque optima verba rebus cohærent, et cernuntur suo lumine. At nos quærimus illa, tanquam, lateant, seque subducant. Ita nunquam putamus verba essa circa id de quo dicendum est; sed ex aliis locis petimus, et inventus vim afferimus.'* In the second place, in order to form a good style, the frequent practice of composing is indispensably necessary. Many rules concerning style I have delivered, but no rules will answer the end, without exercise and habit. At the same time, it is not every sort of composing that will improve style. This is so far from being the case, that by frequent, careless, and hasty composition, we shall acquire certainly a very bad style; we shall have more trouble afterwards in unlearning faults, and correcting negligences, than if we had not been accustomed to composition at all. In the beginning, therefore, we ought to write slowly and with much care. Let the facility and speed of writing, be the fruit of longer practice. . Moram et solicitudinem,' says Quintilian with the greatest reason, 1. x. c. 3. initiis impero. Nam primum hoc constituendum ac obtinendum est, ut quam optime scribamus; celeritatem dabit consuetudo. Paulatim res facilius se ostendent, verba respondebunt, compositio prosequetur. Cuncta denique ut in familiâ bene institutâ in officia erunt. Summa hæc est rei; cito scribendo non fit ut bene scribatur; bene scribendo, fit ut cito.'t

We must observe, however, that there may be an extreme, in too great and anxious a care about words. We must not retard the course of thought, nor cool the heat of imagination, by pausing too long on every word we employ. There is, on certain occasions, a glow of composition which should be kept up, if we hope to express ourselves happily, though at the expense of allowing some inadvertencies to pass. A more severe examination of these must be left to the work of correction. For, if the practice of composition be useful, the laborious work of correcting is no less so is indeed absolutely necessary to our reaping any benefit from the habit of composition. What we have written, should be laid by for some little time, till the ardour of composition be past, till the fondness for the expressions we have used, be worn off, and the expressions themselves be forgotten; and then, reviewing our work with a cool and critical eye, as if it were the performance of another, we shall discern many imperfections which at first escaped us. Then is the season for pruning

The most proper words for the most part adhere to the thoughts which are to be expressed by them and may be discovered as by their own light. But we hunt after them, if they were hidden, and only to be found in a corner. Hence, instead of conceiving the words to lie near the subject we go in quest of them to some other quarter, and endeavour to give force to the expressions we have found out."

fI enjoin, that such as are beginning the practice of composition, write slowly, and with anxious de iberation. Their great object at first should be, to write as well as possible; practice will enable them to write speedily. By degrees matter will offer itself still more readily; words will be at hand: composition will flow; every thing as in the arrangement of a well-ordered family will present itself in its proper place. The sum of the whole is this; by hasty composition, we shall never acquire the art of composing well; by writing Well, we shall learn to write speedily."

redundances; for weighing the arrangement of sentences; for attending to the juncture and connecting particles; and bringing style into a regular, correct and supported form. This Lime Labor,' must be submitted to by all who would communicate their thoughts with proper advantage to others; and some practice in it will soon sharpen their eye to the most necessary objects of attention, and render it a much more easy and practicable work than might at first be imagined.

In the third place, with respect to the assistance that is to be gained from the writings of others, it is obvious, that we ought to render ourselves well acquainted with the style of the best authors. This is requísite both in order to form a just taste in style, and to supply us with a full stock of words on every subject. In reading authors with a view to style, attention should be given to the peculiarities of their different manners; and in this, and former lectures, I have endeavoured to suggest several things that may be useful in this view. I know no exercise that will be found more useful for acquiring a proper style, than to translate some passage from an eminent English author, into our own words. What I mean is, to take, for instance, some page of one of Mr. Addison's Spectators, and read it carefully over two or three times, till we have got a firm hold of the thoughts contained in it; then to lay aside the book; to attempt to write out the passage from memory, in the best way we can ; and having done so, next to open the book, and compare what we have written, with the style of the author. Such an exercise will, by comparison, shew us where the defects of our style lie; will lead us to the proper attentions for rectifying them; and, among the different ways in which the same thought may be expressed, will make us perceive that which is the most beautiful. But,

In the fourth place, I must caution, at the same time, against a servile imitation of any author whatever. This is always dangerous. It hampers genius; it is likely to produce a stiff manner; and those who are given to close imitation, generally imitate an author's faults as well as his beauties. No man will ever become a good writer, or speaker, who has not some degree of confidence to follow his own genius. We ought to beware, in particular of adopting any author's noted phrases, or transcribing passages from him. Such a habit will prove fatal to all genuine composition. Infinitely better it is to have something that is our own, though of moderate beauty, than to affect to shine in borrowed ornaments, which will at last, betray the utter poverty of our genius. On these heads of composing, correcting, reading, and imitating, I advise every student of oratory to consult what Quintilian has delivered in the tenth book of his Institutions, where he will find a variety of excellent observations and directions, that well deserve attention.

In the fifth place, it is an obvious, but material rule, with respect to style, that we always study to adapt it to the subject, and also to the capacity of our hearers, if we are to speak in public. Nothing merits the name of eloquent or beautiful, which is not suited to the occasion, and to the persons to whom it is addressed. It is to the last degree awkward and absurd, to attempt a poetical florid style, on occasions when it should be our business only to argue and reason; or to speak with elaborate pomp of expression, before persons who comprehend nothing of it, and who can only stare at our unseasonable magnificence. These are defects not so much in point of style, as, what is much worse, in point of common sense. When we begin to write or speak,

we ought previously to fix in our minds a clear conception of the end to be aimed at ; to keep this steadily in our view, and to suit our style to it. If we do not sacrifice to this great object, every ill-timed ornament that may occur to our fancy, we are unpardonable; and though children and fools may admire, men of sense will laugh at us and our style.

In the last place, I cannot conclude the subject without this admonition, that in any case, and on any occasion, attention to style must not engross us so much, as to detract from a higher degree of attention to the thoughts; Curam verborum,' says the great Roman critic, rerum volo esse solicitudinem."* A direction the more necessary, as the present taste of the age in writing, seems to lean more to style than to thought. It is much easier to dress up trivial and common sentiments with some beauty of expression, than to afford a fund of vigorous, ingenious, and useful thoughts. The latter, requires true genius; the former may be attained by industry, with the help of very superficial parts. Hence, we find so many writers frivolously rich in style, but wretchedly poor in sentiment. The public ear is now so much accustomed to a correct and ornamented style, that no writer can, with safety, neglect the study of it. But he is a contemptible one who does not look to something beyond it; who does not lay the chief stress upon his matter, and employ such ornaments of style to recommend it, as are manly not foppish: Majore animo,' says the writer whom I have so often quoted, aggredienda est eloquentia ; quæ si toto corpore valet, ungues polire et capillum componere, non existimabit ad curam suam pertinere. Ornatus et virilis et fortis, et sanctus sit; nec effeminatam levitatem, et fuco ementitum colorem amet; sanguine et viribus niteat.'†

LECTURE XX.

CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF THE STYLE OF MR. ADDISON, IN No. 411 OF THE SPECTATOR.

I HAVE insisted fully on the subject of language and style, both because it is, in itself, of great importance, and because it is more capable of being ascertained by precise rule, than several other parts of composition. A critical analysis of the style of some good author will tend further to illustrate the subject; as it will suggest observations which I have not had occasion to make, and will show, in the most practical light, the use of those which I have made.

Mr. Addison is the author whom I have chosen for this purpose. The Spectator, of which his papers are the chief ornament, is a book

To your expression be attentive: but about your matter be solicitous.'

A higher spirit ought to animate those who study eloquence. They ought to consaft the health and soundness of the whole body, rather than bend their attention to such trifling objects as paring the nails, and dressing the hair. Let ornament be manly and chaste, without effeminate gaiety, or artificial colouring; let it shine with the glow of health and strength.?

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