There are as many styles as there are moods and tempers in men.
Words may be used so as to give us a sense of vigor, a sense of
freshness, a sense of the choice and scholarly, or of the dainty and
exclusive, or of the polished and elaborate, or of heat or cold, or
of any other quality known to life. Every work of genius has its own
physiognomy--sad, cheerful, frowning, yearning, determined, meditative.
This book has the face of a saint; that of a scholar or a seer. Here
is the feminine, there the masculine face. One has the clerical face,
one the judicial. Each appeals to us according to our temperaments
and mental predilections. Who shall say which style is the best? What
can be better than the style of Huxley for his purpose,--sentences
level and straight like a hurled lance; or than Emerson’s for his
purpose,--electric sparks, the sudden, unexpected epithet or tense,
audacious phrase, that gives the mind a wholesome shock; or than
Gibbon’s for his purpose,--a style like solid masonry, every sentence
cut four square, and his work, as Carlyle said to Emerson, a splendid
bridge, connecting the ancient world with the modern; or than De
Quincey’s for his purpose,--a discursive, roundabout style, herding
his thoughts as a collie dog herds sheep; or than Arnold’s for his
academic spirit,--a style like cut glass; or than Whitman’s for his
continental spirit,--the processional, panoramic style that gives the
sense of mass and multitude? Certain things we may demand of every
man’s style,--that it shall do its work, that it shall touch the quick.
To be colorless like Arnold is good, and to have color like Ruskin is
good; to be lofty and austere like the old Latin and Greek authors is
good, and to be playful and discursive like Dr. Holmes is good; to be
condensed and epigrammatic like Bacon pleases, and to be flowing and
copious like Macaulay pleases. Within certain limits the manner that is
native to the man, the style that is a part of himself, is what wears
best. What we do not want in any style is hardness, glitter, tumidity,
superfetation, unreality.
In treating of nature or outdoor themes, let the style have limpidness,
sweetness, freshness; in criticism let it have dignity, lucidity,
penetration; in history let it have mass, sweep, comprehension; in all
things let it have vitality, sincerity, and genuineness.