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 is but too apt to be dazzled by a false lustre. I cannot help thinking, that it reflects more honour on the religious and benevolent disposition of the present age, than on the correctness of its taste, that the works of Mr. Hervey have been so generally admired. The pious and benevolent heart which is always displayed in them, and the lively fancy which appears on some occasions, justly merit applause; but the perpetual glitter of expression, the swoln imagery, and strained description, with which they abound, are ornaments of a false kind. The following passage may be produced as a specimen.

It was early in a summer morning, when the air was cool, the earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh and gay. The noisy world was scarce awake. Business had not quite shook off his sound sleep, and Riot had but just reclined his giddy head. All was serene; all was still; every thing tended to inspire tranquillity of mind, and invite to serious thought.-Only the wakeful lark had left her nest, and was mounting on high, to salute the opening day. Elevated in air, she seemed to call the laborious husbandman to his toil, and her fellow-songsters to their notes.-Earliest of birds, said I, companion of the dawn, may I always rise at thy voice! rise to offer the matin-song, and adore that beneficent Being, "who maketh the outgoings of the morning and evening to rejoice."-How charming to rove abroad, at this sweet hour of prime ! to enjoy the calm of nature, to tread the dewy lawns, and taste the unrifled freshness of the air!—The greyness of the dawn decays gradually. Abundance of ruddy streaks tinge the fleeces of the firmament; 'till, at length, the dappled aspect of the East is lost in one ardent and boundless blush.-Is it the surmise of imagination, or do the škies really redden with shame, to see so many supinely stretched on their drowsy pillows?-Hervey's Reflections on a Flower-Garden.

There is a certain degree of elevation to which prose may be permitted to rise. Its elevation however must not be perpetual; when the writer affects unvaried magnificence, it is probable that his reader will at length be seized with satiety. Ornament loses its effect when every page is crowded with embellish

ments.

CHAP. XXV.

OF THE SIMPLE AND THE AFFECTED STYLE.

SIMPLICITY, applied to writing, is a term very frequently used; but, like other critical terms, it is often used in a very loose and vague manner. This circumstance has chiefly arisen from the variety of meanings attached to the word. It will therefore be necessary to distinguish these different significations, and to show in what sense the term is properly applicable to style. We may remark four different acceptations of which it is susceptible.

The first is simplicity of composition, as opposed to a great variety of parts. This is the simplicity of plan in dramatic or epic poetry, as distinguished from double plots, and crowded incidents. Thus we term the plan of Home's Douglas simple, and that of Dryden's Spanish Friar complicated; we speak of the simplicity of Homer's Iliad, in opposition to the digressions of Lucan's Pharsalia. In this sense, simplicity is the same with unity.

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The second sense is simplicity of thought, as opposed to refinement. Simple thoughts are what arise naturally, what the subject or the occasion suggests unsought, and what, when once suggested, are easily apprehended. Refinement in writing expresses a less natural and obvious train of thought, which it requires a peculiar bent of genius to pursue. Thus we say, that Parnell and Goldsmith exhibit greater simplicity of thought than Donne and Cowley; Cicero's thoughts on moral subjects are natural, Seneca's too refined and far-fetched. In these two senses of simplicity, when it is opposed either to variety of parts, or to refinement of thought, it bears no proper relation to style.

In the third place, simplicity stands opposed to superfluous ornament, or pomp of language. Thus Jortin is termed a simple, and Gibbon a florid writer. In this sense, the simple coincides with the plain or with the neat style, which, as it has already been treated of, requires no further illustration.

To the term simplicity there is also another signification attached: this does not refer to the degree of ornament employed, so much as to the easy and na tural manner in which our language expresses our thoughts. In this sense, simplicity is compatible with the highest ornament; it stands opposed, not to ornament, but to affectation. Thus Homer possesses this kind of simplicity in the greatest perfection; and yet no poet has more ornament and beauty.

easy

A writer of simplicity expresses himself in a manner which every one thinks to be attained. There are no marks of art in his expression; it seems the very language of nature; we see in the style, not the writer

ter.

and his labour, but the man in his own natural charac He may be rich in his expression; he may avail himself of the beauties of figurative language; still however every thing seems to flow from him without effort; and he appears to write in this manner, not because he has studied it, but because it is most natural to him. Yet it must not be imagined that a style of this kind is to be attained without study.* To conceal its own efforts, is said to be the perfection of art: and when we find an author's style characterized by a beautiful simplicity, we may conclude that this is the effect of natural ingenuity, aided by an assiduous attention to the rules of composition. Some writers have recommended, not merely simplicity, but even a certain negligence of style, more particularly in familiar compositions; but I entirely agree with a learned Spaniard, Don Gregorio Mayans, that although negligence may be pardoned, it is by no means to be praised.†

Reading an author of simplicity, is like maintaining familiar conversation with a person of distinction, who lays open his sentiments without affectation or disguise. But a mode of writing which seems artificial and ela

"Itaque eum qui audiunt," says Cicero, "quamvis ipsi infantes sint, tamen illo modo confidunt se posse dicere. Nam orationis subtilitas imitabilis illa quidem videtur esse existimanti, sed nihil est experienti minus." (Orator, cap. xxiii.)

"Non tamen adsentior Symmacho præcipienti in familiaribus scriptis negligentiam quamdam debere nos imitari; et multo minus Ennodio, qui ab eo edoctus ait, legem esse in epistolis negligentiam. Istæ sunt voces excusationem præparantium negligentiæ suæ, ut hæc illis non solum condonetur, sed et laudi vertatur, tamquam ex arte profecta. At ego negligentiam, si alicubi reperio, facile condono, sed minime laudo." (Majansii Epistolarum libri sex, præf.)

borate, has always this disadvantage, that it exhibits 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 person from another.

The ancients are more remarkable for simplicity than the moderns, and the reason is obvious. The former wrote from the dictates of natural genius, and did not endeavour to model their own compositions according to those of others. When an author makes this attempt, he is always in danger of deviating into affectation. The more early Greek writers had no proper models to imitate; and accordingly they surpass those of every other learned nation in point of beautiful simplicity. This quality is highly conspicuous in the writings of Homer, Hesiod, Anacreon, Theocritus, Herodotus, and Xenophon. Rome can also boast of several writers of this description; particularly Terence, Lucretius, and Cæsar.

It has been remarked by Mr. Knight that " perfection in taste and style has no sooner been reached, than it has been abandoned, even by those who not only professed the warmest, but felt the sincerest admiration for the models which they forsook. The style of Virgil and Horace in poetry, and that of Cæsar and Cicero in prose, continued to be admired and applauded through all the succeeding ages of Roman eloquence, as the true standards of taste and eloquence in writing. Yet no one ever attempted to imitate them; though there is no reason to suspect that their praises were not perfectly sincere: but all writers seek for applause; and applause is only to be gained by