multiplication of them. When we desire to strike the fancy, or to move the heart, we should be concise; when to inform the understanding, which is more deliberate in its motions, and wants the assistance of a guide, it is better to be full, Historical narration may be beautiful, either in a concise or diffuse manner, according to the author's genius. Livy and Herodotus are diffuse; Thucydides and Sallust are concise; yet they are all agreeable.

The nervous and the feeble are generally considered as characters of style, of the same import with the concise and the diffuse. They do, indeed, very frequently coincide; yet this does not always hold; since there are instances of writers, who, in the midst of a full and ample style, have maintained a considerable degree of strength. Livy is an instance of the truth of this observation. The foundation, indeed, of a nervous or weak style is laid in an author's manner of thinking: If he conceives an object forcibly, he will express it with strength; but if he has an indistinct view of his subject, this will clearly appear in his style. Unmeaning words and loose epithets will escape him; his expressions will be vague and general; his arrangement indistinct and weak; and our conception of his meaning will be faint and confused, But a nervous writer, be his style concise or extended, gives us always a strong idea of his meaning; his mind being full of his subject, his words are, consequently, all expressive; every phrase, and every figure which he uses, renders the picture which he would set before us more striking and complete.

It must, however, be observed, that too great a study of strength, to the neglect of the other

qualities of style, is apt to betray writers into a harsh manner. Harshness proceeds from uncommon words, from forced inversions in the construction of a sentence, and too great neglect of smoothness and ease. This is imputed

as a fault to some of our earliest classics in the English Language; such as Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Bacon, Hooker, Harrington, Cudworth, and other writers of considerable reputation in the days of Queen Elizabeth, James I, and Charles I. These writers had nerve and strength in a considerable degree; and are to this day distinguished by that quality in style. But the language, in their hands, was very different from what it is at present, and was, indeed, entirely formed upon the idiom and construction of the Latin, in the arrangement of sentences. The present form which the language has assumed, has, in some degree, sacrificed the study of strength to that of ease and perspicuity. Our arrangement has become less forcible, perhaps, but more plain and natural and this is now considered as the genius of our tongue.

Hitherto style has been considered under those characters, which regard its expressiveness of an author's meaning: We will now consider it in another view, with respect to the degree of ornament employed to embellish it. Here the style of different authors seems to rise in the following gradation: A dry, a plain, a neat, an elegant, a flowery manner. Of these we will treat briefly in the order in which they stand.

A dry manner excludes every kind of ornament. Satisfied with being understood, it aims not to please, in the least degree, either the fancy or the ear. This is tolerable only in pure didactic writing; and even there to make

us bear it, great solidity of matter is necessary, and entire perspicuity of language.

one.

A plain style advances one degree above a dry A writer of this character employs very little ornament of any kind, and rests almost entirely upon his sense. But, though he does not engage us by the arts of composition, he avoids disgusting us like a dry and harsh writer. Besides perspicuity, he observes propriety, purity, and precision, in his language; which form no inconsiderable degree of beauty. Liveliness and force are also compatible with a plain style; and, consequently, such an author, if his sentiments be good, may be sufficiently agreeable. The difference between a dry and a plain writer is, that the former is incapable of ornament,-the latter goes not in pursuit of it. Of those who have employed the plain style, Dean Swift is an eminent example.

A neat style is next in order; and here we are advanced into the region of ornament; but that ornament is not of the most sparkling kind. A writer of this character shows that he does not despise the beauty of language, by his attention to the choice of his words, and to their graceful collocation. His sentences are always free from the incumbrance of superfluous words; are of a moderate length; rather inclining to brevity than a swelling structure; and closing with propriety. There is variety in his cadence; but no appearance of studied harmony. His figures, if any, are short and accurate, rather than bold and glowing. Such a style may be attained by a writer whose powers of fancy or genius are not extensive, by industry and attention. This sort of style is not unsuitable to any subject whatever. A familiar epistle, or a law paper, on the driest subject, may be composed with

neatness; and a sermon, or a philosophical treatise, in a neat style, will be read with satisfaction.

An elegant style admits a higher degree of ornament than a neat one; and possesses all the virtues of ornament, without any of its excesses or defects. Complete elegance implies great perspicuity and propriety; purity in the choice of words, and carefulness and skill in their harmonious and happy arrangement. It implies farther, the beauty of imagination spread over style, as far as the subject allows it,-and all the illustration which figurative language affords, when properly employed. An elegant writer, in short, is one who delights the fancy and the ear, while he informs the understanding; and who clothes his ideas with all the beauty of expression, but does not overload them with any of its misplaced finery.

Style Simple; Affected; Vehement.

Directions for forming a proper Style.

SIMPLICITY, applied to writing, is a term very commonly used, but, like many other critical terms, it is often used vaguely, and without precision. The different meanings given to the word simplicity have been the chief cause of this inaccuracy. It will not, therefore, be improper to make a distinction between them, and show in what sense simplicity is a proper attribute of style. There are four different acceptations in which this term is taken.

The first is simplicity of composition, which is opposed to too great a variety of parts. This is the simplicity of plan in a tragedy, as dis

tinguished from double plots and crowded incidents; the simplicity of the Iliad, in opposition to the digressions of Lucan; the simplicity of Grecian architecture, in opposition to the irregularity of the Gothic-Simplicity, in this sense, is the same as unity.

The second sense, is simplicity of thought in opposition to refinement. Simple thoughts are those which flow naturally, which are easily suggested by the subject or occasion, and which, when once suggested, are universally understood. Refinement in writing means a less obvious and natural turn of thought, which, when carried too far, approaches to intricacy, and is unpleasing, by the appearance of being far sought. Thus we should say, that Mr. Parnell is a poet of much greater simplicity, in his turn of thought, than Mr. Cowley.

A third sense of simplicity-that in which it regards style, is opposed to too much ornament or pomp of language. Thus, we say, Mr. Locke is a simple, Mr. Hervey a florid, writer.

There is a fourth sense of simplicity, which also respects style: but it regards not so much the degree of ornament employed as the easy and natural manner in which language is expressive of our thoughts. In this sense, simplicity is compatible with the highest ornament. Homer, for example, has this simplicity in the greatest perfection; and yet no writer possesses more ornament and beauty. This simplicity, which is now the object of our consideration, stands opposed not to ornament but to affectation of ornament; and is a superior excellency in compo

sition.

A writer who has attained simplicity has no marks of art in his expression; it appears the very language of nature. We see not the writer