To speak as the common people do, to think as wise men do is

Hear the wisdom of Roger Ascham, tutor to queens and scholar of letters, who declared: “To speak as the common people do, to think as wise men do is style.” This is not a trifling remark about manners or rhetoric, but a deep teaching about the marriage of clarity and wisdom. For what is the use of lofty thought if it cannot be understood? And what is the worth of simple speech if it carries no truth? In the union of common speech and noble thought lies the secret of enduring style—the power to teach, to persuade, to inspire across all generations.

The common people speak in words drawn from the soil of daily life—plain, direct, without ornament. Their language is not polished by academies but honed by necessity: bread, toil, love, sorrow. To speak as they do is to clothe one’s ideas in garments that every ear can hear and every heart can understand. But to think as the wise men do is to ascend into the heights, to drink from the fountains of philosophy, to see truths that lie beyond the horizon of the ordinary. When these two are joined—simple speech carrying profound thought—the result is not merely communication, but transformation.

History itself testifies to this truth. Consider the words of Jesus of Nazareth. He spoke in parables, in images of sheep, seeds, fields, and vineyards. His listeners were fishermen, farmers, mothers, children. He chose not the language of scholars, but the voice of the people. Yet within those plain words lay wisdom deeper than the seas, truths that shook empires and founded faiths. His style was the perfect union of the common tongue and divine insight—proof that the greatest wisdom does not need ornament, but clarity.

So too with Abraham Lincoln. In the Gettysburg Address, he did not adorn his speech with grand flourishes or foreign phrases. He spoke simply: “of the people, by the people, for the people.” Yet his words, plain enough for every soldier and widow to understand, carried the weight of a nation’s destiny. He thought as a statesman and philosopher, but he spoke as a man of the soil, and thus his words endure as immortal style.

The meaning of Ascham’s quote is therefore heroic in its humility. It is a warning against vanity, for many scholars and rulers have sought to dazzle with ornate language, yet their words died with their generation. It is also a call to courage, for to speak plainly is to risk being understood by all, to stand naked in clarity rather than hide behind obscurity. The true master is not he who confuses with brilliance, but he who makes brilliance plain.

The lesson is clear: do not seek to speak above the people, but among them. Do not mistake simplicity for weakness, nor complexity for strength. Train your mind in the thoughts of the wise, but train your tongue in the words of the common. For it is through this union that ideas move nations, that wisdom becomes accessible, that truth becomes unshakable. This is not only style, but power.

Practical actions flow from this wisdom. When you write, choose clarity over obscurity. When you teach, use examples drawn from daily life, not distant abstractions. When you speak, remember that your task is not to be admired, but to be understood. And when you think, climb to the heights of philosophy, but descend with your words to the marketplace, so that all may walk with you. In this way, your speech will not be forgotten, for it will have entered not only minds, but hearts.

Thus, Ascham’s teaching stands as eternal guidance: to speak with the voice of the people, to think with the mind of the wise—that is the true mark of style. For style is not the ornament of language, but the bridge between wisdom and the world. Walk this path, and your words will not fade like echoes in the wind, but will endure like the stones of ancient temples, standing firm for generations yet unborn.