It will be admitted that hardness must arise either from the thing itself or from the handling. If the thing itself is hard it must be because it is strange to the reader, because it is outside of his ordinary interests and occupations, or because he does not give full study and attention to it. To illustrate the former difficulty, what affinity is there, in respect of occupation, between a simple ploughman, a wary merchant, and a subtle lawyer, or between manual trades and metaphysical discourses, whether in mathematics, physics, or divinity? Again, even to students who profess some alliance with what they study, can anything be easy if they have not laboured sufficiently in it? I need say no more than this, that where there is no acquaintance in profession there is no help to understanding, where there is no familiarity there is no facility, where there is no conference there is no knowledge. If the man delves the earth, and the matter dwells in heaven, there is no means of uniting them over so great a distance. But when the understanding, though in affinity, is clearly insufficient, there is far more hardness than where there is a difference of occupation, because a vain conceit brings much more error than weak knowledge. Some good may come out of an ignorant fellow if he begin to take hold, but the lukewarm learned mars his way by prejudiced opinion. But in all this, if there be any difficulty about the matter, its cause lies in the man, and not in the nature of the thing. I am quick in teaching, and hard of understanding, but towards whom and why? Towards him, forsooth, who is not sufficiently acquainted with the matter in hand. Well, then, if want of familiarity is the cause of the difficulty, acquaintance once made and continued will remedy that complaint, if the matter seem worth the man’s acquaintance in his natural tongue, for that is a question in a vision blinded by foreign glamours, or if the learner is really desirous to be rid of his ignorance, for that is another question where a vain opinion over-values itself. For in the case of a book written in the English tongue there are so many Englishmen well able to satisfy fully the ignorant reader, that it were too great a discourtesy not to lighten a man’s labour with a short question, and an equally short answer. But where the matter, being no pleasant tale nor amorous device, but a serious and worthy argument concerning sober learning, not familiar to all readers, or even to all writers, professes no ease without some effort, then if such effort be not made an unnatural idleness is betrayed, which desires less to find ease than to find fault. For why should one labour to help all, and none be willing to help that one? Nay, why should none be willing to help themselves out of the danger and bondage of blind ignorance? If the book were all in Latin, and the reader were not acquainted with a single word, then the case would be desperate, but as it is, any man may compass it with very little inquiry from his skilful neighbour. Therefore if anything seems hard to an ignorant man who desires to know, and fails owing to the unfamiliarity of the subject, he must handle the thing often, so that it may become easy, and when a doubt arises he must confer with those who have more knowledge. For all strange things seem great novelties, and are hard to grasp at their first arrival, but after some acquaintance they become quite familiar, and are easily dealt with. And words likewise which express strange matters, or are strangers themselves, are not wild beasts, nor is a term a tiger to prove wholly untractable. Familiarity and acquaintance will bring facility both in matter and in words.
If the handling seems to cause the difficulty, and if that proceeds from him who presents the argument, not only in the opinion of the unpractised reader, but truly in the view of those who are able to judge, then such a writer is worthy of blame, in seeking to expound without sufficient study; but if the defective handling is due not to the writer, but to plain misunderstanding, then there is small praise to the reader who misconstrues without regard to courtesy or reverence for truth.
As for my style in treatment, if it be charged with difficulty, that also proceeds from choice, being intended to show that I come from the forge, being always familiar with strong steel and pithy stuff in the reading of good writers, and therefore bound to resemble that metal in my style. To argue closely and with sequence, to trace causes and effects, to seek sinews and sound strength rather than waste flesh, is seemly for a student, especially when he writes for perpetuity, where the reader may keep the book by him to study at his leisure, not being forced either to take it all at once or forgo it altogether, as is the case in speech. Discourses that are entirely popular, or are written in haste for the moment, may well be slight in manner, for their life is short; and where what is said is at once to be put to present use, the plainer the style the more plausible it will be, and therefore most excellent in its kind, since the expression must be adapted to the immediate end in view, leaving nothing to muse on, as there is no time for musing. But where the matter is no courier to post away in haste, and there must be musing on it, another course must be taken, and yet the manner of delivery must not be thought hard, nor compared with others of a different kind, considering that it is meant to teach, and can use such plainness only as the subject admits of. Does any man of judgment in learning and in the Latin tongue think that Cicero’s orations and his discourses in philosophy were equally well known and of equal plainness to the people of Rome, though both in their own way are plain enough to us, who know the Latin tongue better than our own, because we pore over it, and pay no attention to our own? Certainly not, as appears from many passages in Cicero himself, where he notes the difference, and confesses that the newness of the subjects which he transported from Greece was the cause of some darkness to the ordinary reader, and of some contempt to the learned because they fancied the Greek more. Yet neither ignorance nor contempt could discourage his pen from seeking the advantage of his own language, by translating into it the learning which others wished to remain in the Greek; he kept on his course, and in the end the tide turned in his favour, bringing him the credit which he enjoys to this day. And he himself bears witness that the resistance he met with was due not only to the matter of which he treated, but also to his manner of expression, and even to the very words he used, which being strange and newly-coined were not understood by the ordinary reader. “I could write of these things,” he says, meaning philosophical subjects, “like Amasanius” (an obscure writer of apophthegms) “but in that case not like myself; as plainly as he, but not then so as to satisfy myself, or do justice to the subject as I should handle it. I must define, divide, distinguish, exercise judgment, and use the terms of art. I must have regard as well to those from whom my learning is borrowed, that they may say they meant it so, as to those for whom it is borrowed, that they may say they understand it.”
The writer who does otherwise may be thought plain by those who seek nothing far, but if those who call for plainness are always to be pleased, and dealt with so daintily that they are put to no pains to learn and enquire, when they find themselves in a difficulty through their own ignorance; if they must be made a lure for learning to descend to, rather degenerating herself than teaching them to look up, what is the use of skill? He who made the earth made hills and dales, heights and plains, smooth places and rough, and yet all good of their own kind. Plainness is good for a pleasant course, and a popular style is in place in ordinary argument, where no art is needed because the reader knows none, and the matter can be simply expressed, being indeed in her best colours when she is dressed for common purposes. Likewise this alleged hardness, though it belong to the matter, has its special use in whetting people’s wits, and making a deep impression, where what seems dark contains something that must be considered thrice before it is mastered.
Labour is the coin which is current in heaven, for which and by which Almighty God sells His best wares, though in His great goodness He sometimes does more for some in giving them quickness and intelligence, even without great labour, than any labour can do for others, in order to let us know that His mercy is the mistress when our labour learns best. But in our ordinary life, if carpeting be knighting, where is necessary defence? If easy understanding be the readiest learning, then wake not my lady; she learns as she lies. If all things are hard which everyone thinks to be so, where is the privilege and benefit of study? What is the use of study, if what we get by labour is condemned as too hard for those that do not study. I will not allege that the learned men of old made use of obscure expressions in matters of religion in order to win reverence towards a subject that belonged to another world and could not be fully dealt with in ordinary speech, nor that the old wisdom was expressed in riddles, proverbs, fables, oracles, and mystic verses, in order to draw men on to study, and fix in the memory what was carefully considered before it was uttered. Are any of our oldest and best writers whom we now study, and who have been thought the greatest, each in his kind, ever since they first wrote, understood at once after a single reading, even though those who are studying them know their tongue as well as we know English—nay, even better, because it is more intricate? Or is their manner of writing to be disapproved of as dark, because the ignorant reader or fastidious student cannot straightway rush into it? That they fell into that compressed kind of writing owing to their very pith in saying much where they speak least, is clearly shown by the comments of those who expand at great length what was set down in one short sentence—nay, even in a single phrase of a sentence. Are not all the chief paragons and principal leaders in every profession of this same character, inaccessible to ordinary people, even though using the same language, and giving of their store only to those who will study?
But may not this obscurity lie in him who finds it rather than in the matter, which is simple in itself, and simply expressed, though it may not seem so to him? Our daintiness deceives us, our want of goodwill blinds us—nay, our lack of skill is the very witch which bereaves us of sense, though we profess to have knowledge and favour towards learning. For everyone who bids a book good-morrow is not necessarily a scholar, or a judge of the subject dealt with in the book. He may have studied up to a certain point, but perhaps neither hard nor long, or he may be very little acquainted with the subject he is seeking to judge of. Perhaps the desire of preferment has cut short his study when it was most promising, or there is some other of the many causes of weakness, although pretension may impose upon the world with a show of learning. Any man may judge well of a matter which he has sufficiently studied, and thoroughly practised (if it be a study that requires practice), and has regarded in its various relations. A pretty skill in some particular direction will sometimes glance beyond, and show a smattering of further knowledge, but no further than a glance, no more than a smattering. Therefore, in my judgment of another man’s writings, so much only is just as I should be able to prove soundly, if I were seriously challenged by those who can judge, not so much as I may venture uncontrolled, in seeking merely to please myself or those as ignorant as myself. Apelles could admit the opinion of the cobbler, so far as his knowledge of cobbling justified him, but not an inch further.
As for my manner of writing, if I do not meet expectation, I have always some warrant, for I write rather with regard to the essence of the matter in hand than to superficial effect. For however it may be in speech, and in that kind of writing which resembles speech, being adapted to ordinary subjects with an immediate practical end, certainly where the matter has to stand a more lasting test, and be tried by the hammer of learned criticism, there should be precision, orderly method, and carefully chosen expression, every word having its due force, and every sentence being well and deliberately weighed. Such writing, though it may be without esteem in our age through the triviality of the time, may yet win it in another, when its value is appreciated. Some hundreds of years may pass before saints are enshrined, or books gain their full authority.
As for the general writing in the English tongue, I must needs say that for some points of handling there is no language more excellent than ours. For teaching memory work pleasantly, as in the old leonine verses, which run in rhyme, it admits more dalliance with words than any other tongue I know. In firmness of speech and strong ending it is very forcible, because of the monosyllabic words of which it so largely consists. For fine translation in pithy terms I find it as quick as any foreign tongue, or quicker, as it is wonderfully pliable and ready to express a pointed thought in very few words. For apt expression of a good deal of matter in not many words it will do as much in original utterance as in any translation. This compact expression may sometimes seem hard, but only where ignorance is harboured, or where indolence is an idol, which will not be persuaded to crack the nut, though it covet the kernel. I need give no example of these, as my own writing will serve as a general pattern. No one can judge so well of these points in our tongue as those who find matter flowing from their pen which refuses to be expressed in any other form. For our tongue has a special character as well as every other, and cannot be surpassed for grace and pith.
In regard to the force of words, which was the third note of alleged obscurity, there are to be considered familiarity for the general reader, beauty for the learned, effectiveness to give pleasure, and borrowing to extend our resources and admit of ready expression. Therefore, if any reader find fault with a word which does not suit his ear, let him mark the one he knows, and learn to value the other, which is worth his knowing. Do we not learn from words? No marvel if it is so, for a word is a metaphor, a learned translation, something carried over from its original sense to serve in some place where it is even more properly used, and where it may be most significant, if it is properly understood. Take pains to learn from it; you have there a means of gaining knowledge. It is not commonly used as I am using it, but I trust I am not abusing it, and it may be filling a more stately place than any you have ever seen it in. Then mark that the place honours the parson, and think well of good words, for though they may be handled by ordinary, or even by foul lips, yet in a fairer mouth, or under a finer pen, they may come to honour. It may be a stranger, and yet no Turk, and though it were the word of an enemy, yet a good thing is worth getting, even from a foe, as well by the language of writers as by the spoil of soldiers. And when the foreign word has yielded itself and been received into favour, it is no longer foreign, though of foreign race, the property in it having been altered. But he who will speak of words need not lack them. However, in this place there is no further need of words, to say either which are familiar, or beautiful, or effective, or which are borrowed; nor is there need to say that in regard to any ornament in words we give place to no other tongue.
As for my own words and the terms that I use, they are generally English, and if any be an incorporated stranger, or translated, or freshly-coined, I have shaped it to fit the place where I use it, as far as my skill will permit. The example and precept of the best judges warrant us in enfranchising foreign words, or translating our own without too manifest insolence or wanton affectation, or else inventing new ones where they are clearly serviceable, the context explaining them sufficiently till frequent usage has made them well known. Therefore, to say what I mean in plain terms, he who is soundly learned will straightway recognise a scholar; he who is well acquainted with a strong pen, whether in reading authors or in actual use, will soon master a compact style; he who has skill in language, whether old and scholarly or newly received into favour, will not wonder at words whose origin he knows, nor be surprised at a thought tersely expressed, in a way familiar to him in other languages. Therefore, as I fear not the judgment of the skilful, because courtesy goes with knowledge, so I value their friendship, because their support gives me credit.