ment to his fancy. In what we read and what we hear, we
always seek for something in one respect or other new, which
we did not know, or, at least, attend to before. The less
we find of this, the sooner we are tired. Such a trifling mi-
nuteness, therefore, in narration, description, or argument, as
an ordinary apprehension would render superfluous, is apt
quickly to disgust us. The reason is, not because anything
is said too perspicuously, but because many things are said
which ought not to be said at all. Nay, if those very things
had been expressed obscurely (and the most obvious things
may be expressed obscurely), the fault would have been
much greater, because it would have required a good deal of
attention to discover what, after we had discovered it, we
should perceive not to be of sufficient value for requiting our
pains. To an author of this kind we should be apt to apply
the character which Bassanio in the play gives of Gratiano's
conversation: "He speaks an infinite deal of nothing. His
reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of
chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when
you have them they are not worth the search." ^* It is there-
fore futility in the thought, and not perspicuity in the lan-
guage, which is the fault of such performances. There is as
little hazard that a piece shall be faulty in this respect, as
that a mirror shall be too faithful in reflecting the images of
objects, or that the glasses of a telescope shall be too trans-
parent.

At the same time, it is not to be dissembled that, with in-
attentive readers, a pretty numerous class, darkness frequent-
ly passes for depth. To be perspicuous, on the contrary, and
to be superficial, are regarded by them as synonymous. But
it is not surely to their absurd notions that our language
ought to be adapted.

It is proper, however, before I dismiss this subject, to ob-
serve, that every kind of style doth not admit an equal degree
of perspicuity. In the ode, for instance, it is difficult, some-
times perhaps impossible, to reconcile the utmost perspicuity
with that force and vivacity which the species of composi-
tion requires. But even in this case, though we may justly
say that the genius of the performance renders obscurity to
a certain degree excusable, nothing can ever constitute it an
excellence. Nay, it may still be affirmed with truth, that the
more a writer can reconcile this quality of perspicuity with
that which is the distinguishing excellence of the species of
composition, his success will be the greater.

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