XXXV.

' Lord

Bacon.

LECT. himself, when it became more fashionable. Which a noble writer of ours represents as a punishment upon him for his former crime1. It feldom happens, that the fame perfon excells in each of these characters. They feem to require a different genius, and most people are naturally led to one of them more than another; tho all of them are

requifite for an orator upon different occafions, as I fhall fhew hereafter.

I SHOULD NOW procede to explain the nature of these several characters, and the particular properties, by which they are distinguished from each other; but this will be the subject of some following discourses.

LEC

LECTURE XXXVI.

TH

Of the low Stile.

XXXVI.

"HAT there is a great variety in ftile, LECT. is manifest to every one, who makes any observation upon what he either reads or hears. This, as was fhewn in my last discourse, arifes among other reasons from a diversity of subjects; and has been reduced by rhetoricians to three degrees or characters, called the low or plain stile, the middle or temperate, and the lofty or fublime. I fhall now procede, as I then promised, to treat of the nature and properties of these feveral characters, begining with the low ftile. And that I And that I may do this with the greater clearness, I fhall confider it under two heads, thoughts and language, in each of which these several characters are distinguished one from another.

AND with respect to the former, as the fubjects proper for this stile are either common things, or fuch as fhould be treated

in a plain and familiar way; fo plain thoughts are most fuitable to it, and diftinguish it from the other characters.

Vo L. II.

K

Now

LECT.

XXXVI.

Now by plain thoughts are meant fuch, as are fimple and obvious, and seem to rife naturally from the subject, when duly confidered; so that any one, upon first hearing them, would be apt to imagine, they must have occured to himself. Not that this is really the cafe, but because the more natural a thing is, the more eafy it seems to be; tho in reality it is often otherwise, and the perfection of art lies in its nearest refemblance to nature. And therefore in order to speak plainly and clearly upon any subject, it must first be duly confidered, well understood, and throughly digested in the mind; which tho it require labor and study, yet the more a person is master of what he fais, the lefs that labor will appear in his discourse. This natural plainefs and fimplicity, without any disguise or affectation, very much contributes to give credit to what is faid. Nor is any thing more apt to impofe on us, than the appearance of this, when artfully affumed. Cicero's account of the fight between Milo and Clodius, in which Clodius was killed, is a remarkable inftance of this. When Clodius knew, fais he, that Milo was obliged to go to Lanuvium upon a folemn and neceffary occafion, be immediately haftened from

Rome

XXXVI.

Rome the day before, to affaffinate him, before LECT. Clodius's own boufe, as appeared afterwards by the event. And this he did at a time, when his turbulent mob in the city, wanted bis affiftance; whom he would not have left, but for the advantage of that place and feafon to execute his wicked defign. But the next day Milo was in the fenate, where he continued till they broke up, then went home, changed his dress, staid there fome time, till his wife was ready, and afterwards fet forward fo late, that if Clodius had defigned to return to Rome that day, he might have been bere by that time. Clodius, prepared for his defign, met him on horseback, having no chariat, no equipage, no Greek attendants, as ufual, and without his wife, which was scarce ever known; whereas Milo was in a chariot with his wife, wrapt up in a cloak, and attended by a large retinue of maid fervants, pages, and other perfons unfit for an engagement. He met with Clodius before his house, about five a clock in the evening, and was prefently affaulted from an higher ground by many armed men, who killed the coachman. Upon which Milo throwing off his cloak, leaped out of the chariot, and bravely defended himself and thofe who were with Clodius having their fwords drawn, fome make up to

XXXVI.

LECT. the chariot to attack Milo; and others, who now thought he had been killed, began to fall upon his fervants, who were behind. And of thefe, fuch who had courage, and were faithful to their master, fome were killed; and others, when they saw the skirmish at the chariot, and could do their mafter no fervice (for they heard Clodius himfelf fay that Milo was killed, and really thought it was fo) did that, not by their master's order, nor with bis knowledge, nor when he was prefent, which every one would have his own fervants to do in the like circumftances. I do not fay this to fix any crime upon them, but only to 1 Pro Mil. relate what happened. His meaning is, they killed Clodius; which he avoids mentioning, to render what he fais lefs offenfive. Can any thing be told in a more plain and fimple manner than this? Here is nothing faid, but what in itself feems highly probable, and what one would imagine the fact might eafily fuggeft to any ordinary fpectator. But in this both the art and kill of it confift. For in the whole account, as on the one hand Milo is fo defcribed, as to render it highly improbable, he could have any defign at that time againft Clodius; fo on the other, no one circumstance is omited, which might feem

proper