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his creation; and the brightest of these can only give us some faint shadows of his greatness and his glory. The strongest figures are too weak, the most exalted language too low, to express his ineffable excellence. No hyperbole can be brought to heighten our thoughts; for in so sublime a theme, nothing can be hyperbolical. The riches of imagination are poor, and all the rivers of eloquence are dry, in supplying thought on an infinite subject. How poor and mean, how base and grovelling, are the Heathen conceptions of the Deity! something sublime and noble must needs be said on so great an occasion; but in this great article, the most celebrated of the Heathen pens seem to flag and sink; they bear up in no proportion to the dignity of the theme, as if they were depressed by the weight, and dazzled with the splendour of the subject.

We have no instances to produce of any writers that rise at all to the majesty and dignity of the Divine Attributes, except the sacred penmen. No less than Divine Inspiration could enable men to write worthily of God, and none but the Spirit of God knew how to express his greatness, and display his glory: in comparison of these divine writers, the greatest geniuses, the noblest wits of the Heathen world, are low and dull. The sublime majesty and royal magnificence of the scripture poems are above the reach and beyond the power of all mortal wit. Take the best and liveliest poems of antiquity, and read them as we do the scriptures, in a prose translation, and they are flat and poor. Horace, and Virgil, and Homer, lose their spirits and their strength in the transfusion, to that degree, that we have hardly patience to read them. But the sacred writings, even in our translation, preserve their majesty and their glory, and very far surpass the brightest and noblest compositions of Greece and Rome. And this is not owing to the richness and solemnity of the eastern eloquence (for it holds in no other instance) but to the divine direction and assistance of the holy writers. For, let me only make this remark, that the most literal translation of the scriptures, in the most natural signification of the words, is generally the best; and the same punctualness, which debases other writings, preserves the spirit and majesty of the sacred text: it can suffer no improvement from human wit; and we may observe that those who have presumed

to heighten the expressions by a poetical translation or paraphrase, have sunk in the attempt; and all the decorations of their verse, whether Greek or Latin, have not been able to reach the dignity, the majesty, and solemnity of our prose: so that the prose of scripture cannot be improved by verse, and even the divine poetry is most like itself in prose. One observation more I would leave with you: Milton himself, as great a genius as he was, owes his superiority over Homer and Virgil, in majesty of thought and splendour of expression, to the scriptures; they are the fountain from which he derived his light; the sacred treasure that enriched his fancy, and furnished him with all the truth and wonders of God and his creation, of angels and men, which no mortal brain was ever able to discover or conceive and in him, of all human writers, you will meet all his sentiments and words raised and suited to the greatness and dignity of the subject.

I have detained you the longer on this majesty of style, being perhaps myself carried away with the greatness and pleasure of the contemplation. What I have dwelt so much on with respect to divine subjects, is more easily to be observed with reference to human: for in all things below divinity, we are rather able to exceed than fall short; and in adorning all other subjects, our words and sentiments may rise in a just proportion to them: nothing is above the reach of man, but heaven; and the same wit can raise a human subject, that only debases a divine. Felton.

103. Rules of Order and Proportion.

After all these excellencies of style, in purity, in plainness and perspicuity, in ornament and majesty, are considered, a finished piece of what kind soever must shine in the order and proportion of the whole; for light rises out of order, and beauty from proportion. In architecture and painting, these fill and relieve the eye. A just disposition gives us a clear view of the whole at once; and the due symmetry and proportion of every part of itself, and of all together, leave no vacancy in our thoughts or eyes; nothing is wanting, every thing is complete, and we are satisfied in beholding.

But when I speak of order and proportion, I do not intend any stiff and formal method, but only a proper distribution of

the parts in general, where they follow in a natural course, and are not confounded with one another. Laying down a scheme, and marking out the divisions and subdivisions of a discourse, are only necessary in systems, and some pieces of controversy and argumentation; you see, however, that I have ventured to write without any declared order; and this is allowable where the method opens as you read, and the order discovers itself, in the progress of the subject; but certainly, of all pieces that were ever written in a professed and stated method, and distinguished by the number and succession of their parts, our English sermons are the completest in order and proportion; the method is so easy and natural, the parts bear so just a proportion to one another, that among many others, this may pass for a peculiar commendation of them; for those divisions and particulars which obscure and perplex other writings, give a clearer light to ours. All that I would insinuate, therefore, is only this, that it is not necessary to lay the method we use before the reader, only to write, and then he will read, in order.

But it requires a full command of the subject, a distinct view, to keep it always in sight, or else, without some method first designed, we should be in danger of losing it, and wandering after it, till we have lost ourselves, and bewildered the reader.

A prescribed method is necessary for weaker heads, but the beauty of order is its freedom and unconstraint: it must be dispersed and shine in all the parts through the whole performance; but there is no necessity of writing in trammels, when we can move more at ease without them: neither is the proportion of writing to be measured out like the proportions of a horse, where every part must be drawn in the minutest respect to the size and bigness of the rest; but it is to be taken by the mind, and formed upon a general view and consideration of the whole. The statuary that carves Hercules in stone, or casts him in brass, may be obliged to take his dimensions from his foot; but the poet that describes him is not bound up to the geometer's rule: nor is an author under any obligation to write by the scale.

These hints will serve to give you some notion of order and proportion: and I must not dwell too long upon them, lest I transgress the rules I am laying down. Felton.

104. A Recapitulation.

I shall make no formal recapitulation of what I have delivered. Out of all these rules together, rises a just style, and a perfect composition. All the latitude that can be admitted, is in the ornament of writing; we do not require every author to shine in gold and jewels; there is a moderation to be used in the pomp and trappings of a discourse: it is not necessary that every part should be embellished and adorned; but the decoration should be skilfully distributed through the whole: too full and glaring a light is offensive, and confounds the eyes: in heaven itself there are vacancies and spaces between the stars; and the day is not less beautiful for being interspersed with clouds; they only moderate the brightness of the sun, and, without diminishing from his splendour, gild and adorn themselves with his rays. But to descend from the skies: It is in writing as in dress; the richest habits are not always the completest, and a gentleman may make a better figure in a plain suit, than in an embroidered coat; the dress depends upon the imagination, but must be adjusted by the judgment, contrary to the opinion of the ladies, who value nothing but a good fancy in the choice of their clothes. The first excellence is to write in purity, plainly, and clearly; there is no dispensation from these: but afterwards you have your choice of colours, and may enliven, adorn, and paint your subject as you please.

In writing, the rules have a relation and dependence on one another. They are held in one social bond, and joined, like the moral virtues and liberal arts, in a sort of harmony and concord. He that cannot write pure, plain English, must never pretend to write at all; it is in vain for him to dress and adorn his discourse; the finer he endeavours to make it, he makes it only the more ridiculous. And on the other side, let a man write in the exactest purity and propriety of language, if he has not life and fire, to give his work some force and spirit, it is nothing but a mere corpse, and a lumpish, unwieldy mass of matter. But every true genius, who is perfect master of the language he writes in, will let no fitting ornaments and decorations be wanting. His fancy flows in the richest vein, and gives his pieces such lively colours, and so beautiful a complexion, that you would almost say his

own blood and spirits were transfused into the work. Felton.

$105. How to form a right Taste.

A perfect mastery and elegance of style is to be learned from the common rules, but must be improved by reading the orators, and poets, and the celebrated masters in every kind; this will give you a right taste, and a true relish; and when you can distinguish the beauties of every finished piece, you will write yourself with equal commendation.

I do not assert that every good writer must have a genius for poetry; I know Tully is an undeniable exception; but I will venture to affirm, that a soul that is not moved with poetry, and has no taste that way, is too dull and lumpish ever to write with any prospect of being read. It is a fatal mistake, and simple superstition, to discourage youth from poetry, and endeavour to prejudice them against it; if they are of a poetical genius, there is no restraining them: Ovid, you know, was deaf to his father's frequent admonitions. But if they are not quite smitten and bewitched with love of verse, they should be trained to it, to make them masters of every kind of poetry, that by learning to imitate the originals, they may arrive at a right conception and a true taste of their authors: and being able to write in verse upon occasion, I can assure you is no disadvantage to prose: for without relishing the one, a man must never pretend to any taste for the other.

Taste is a metaphor, borrowed from the palate, by which we approve or dislike what we eat or drink, from the agreeableness or disagreeableness of the relish in our mouth. Nature directs us in the common use, and every body can tell sweet from bitter, what is sharp, or sour, or vapid, or nauseous; but it requires senses more refined and exercised, to discover every taste that is more perfect in its kind; every palate is not to judge of that, and yet drinking is more used than reading. All that I pretend to know of the matter, is, that wine should be, like a style, clear, deep, bright, and strong, sincere and pure, sound and dry, (as our advertisements do well express it) which last is a commendable term, that contains the juice of the richest spirits, and only keeps out all cold and dampness.

It is common to commend a man for an ear to music, and a taste of painting: which

are nothing but a just discernment of what
is excellent and most perfect in them. The
first depends entirely on the ear; a man
can never expect to be a master, that has
not an ear tuned and set to music; and
you can no more sing an ode without an
ear, than without a genius you can write
one. Painting, we should think, requires
some understanding in the art, and exact
knowledge of the best masters' manner, to
be a judge of it; but this faculty, like the
rest, is founded in nature: knowledge in
the art, and frequent conversation with the
best originals, will certainly perfect a man's
judgment; but if there is not a natural sa-
gacity and aptness, experience will be of no
great service. A good taste is an argument
of a great soul, as well as a lively wit. It
is the infirmity of poor spirits to be taken
with every appearance, and dazzled by
every thing that sparkles: but to pass by
what the generality of the world admires,
and to be detained with nothing but what
is most perfect and excellent in its kind,
speaks a superior genius, and a true discern-
ment; a new picture by some meaner hand,
where the colours are fresh and lively, will
engage the eye, but the pleasure goes off
with looking, and what we ran to at first
with eagerness, we presently leave with in-
difference: but the old pieces of Raphael,
Michael Angelo, Tintoret, and Titian,
though not so inviting at first, open to the
eye by degrees; and the longer and often-
er we look, we still discover new beauties,
and find new pleasure. I am not a man
of so much severity in my temper as to
allow you to be pleased with nothing but
what is in the last perfection; for then,
possibly, so many are the infirmities of
writing, beyond other arts, you could ne-
ver be pleased. There is a wide difference
in being nice to judge of every degree of
perfection, and rigid in refusing whatever
is deficient in any point. This would
only be weakness of stomach, not any
commendation of a good palate; a true
taste judges of defects as well as perfections,
and the best judges are always the persons
of the greatest candour. They will find
none but real faults, and whatever they
commend, the praise is justly due.

I have intimated already, that a good taste is to be formed by reading the best authors: and when you shall be able to point out their beauties, to discern the brightest passages, the strength and elegance of their language, you will always

write yourself, and read others, by that standard, and must therefore necessarily excel. Fellon.

§ 106. Taste to be improved by Imitation. In Rome there were some popular orators, who, with a false eloquence and violent action, carried away the applause of the people and with us we have some popular men, who are followed and admired for the loudness of their voice, and a false pathos both in utterance and writing. I have been sometimes in some confusion to hear such persons commended by those of superior sense, who could distinguish, one would think, between empty, pompous, specious harangues, and those pieces in which all the beauties of writing are combined. A natural taste must therefore be improved, like fine parts, and a great genius; it must be assisted by art, or it will be easily vitiated and corrupted. False eloquence passes only where true is not understood; and nobody will commend bad writers, that is acquainted with good.

These are only some cursory thoughts on a subject that will not be reduced to rules. To treat of a true taste in a formal method, would be very insipid; it is best collected from the beauties and laws of writing, and must rise from every man's own apprehension and notion of what he hears and reads.

It may be therefore of farther use, and most advantage to you, as well as a relief and entertainment to refresh your spirits in the end of a tedious discourse, if, besides mentioning the classic authors as they fall in my way, I lay before you some of the correctest writers of this age and the last, in several faculties, upon different subjects: Not that you should be drawn into a servile imitation of any of them: but that you may see into the spirit, force, and beauty of them all, and form your pen from those general notions of life and delicacy, of fine thoughts and happy words, which rise to your mind upon reading the great masters of style in their several ways, and manner of excelling.

I must beg leave, therefore, to defer a little the entertainment I promised, while I endeavour to lead you into the true way of imitation, if ever you shall propose any original for your copy; or, which is infinitely preferable, into a perfect mastery of the spirit and perfections of every

celebrated writer, whether ancient or modern. Fellon.

§ 107. On the Historical Style. History will not admit those decorations other subjects are capable of; the passions and affections are not to be moved with any thing, but the truth of the narration. All the force and beauty must lie in the order and expression. To relate every event with clearness and perspicuity, in such words as best express the nature of the subject, is the chief commendation of an historian's style. History gives us a draught of facts and transactions in the world. The colours these are painted in; the strength and significancy of the several faces; the regular confusion of a battle; the destructions of tumult sensibly depicted; every object and every occurrence so presented to your view, that while you read, you seem indeed to see them; this is the art and perfection of an historical style. And you will observe, that those who have excelled in history, have excelled in this especially; and what has made them the standards of that style, is the clearness, the life and vigour of their expression, every where properly varied, according to the variety of the subjects they write on: for history and narration are nothing but just and lively descriptions of remarkable events

and accidents.

Ibid.

$108. of HERODOTUS and THUCYDIDES.

For this reason we praise Herodotus and Thucydides among the Greeks, for I will mention no more of them; and upon this account we commend Sallust and Livy among the Romans. For though they all differ in their style, yet they all agree in these common excellencies. Herodotus displays a natural oratory in the beauty and clearness of a numerous and solemn diction; he flows with a sedate and majestic pace, with an easy current, and pleasant stream. Thucydides does sometimes write in a style so close, that almost every word is a sentence, and every sentence almost acquaints us with something new; so that from the multitude of causes, and variety of matter crowded together, we should suspect him to be obscure: but yet so happy, so admirable a master is he in the art of expres sion, so proper and so full, that we cannot say whether his diction does more illustrate the things he speaks of, or whether

his words themselves are not illustrated
by his matter, so mutual a light do his
expressions and subject reflect on each
other. His diction, though it be pressed
and close, is nevertheless great and mag-
nificent, equal to the dignity and import-
ance of his subject. He first, after Hero-
dotus, ventured to adorn the historian's
style, to make the narration more pleas-
ing, by leaving the flatness and nakedness
of former ages.
This is most observable
in his battles, where he does not only re-
late the mere fight, but writes with a mar-
tial spirit, as if he stood in the hottest of
the engagement; and what is most excel-
lent as well as remarkable in so close a
style, is, that it is numerous and harmo-
nious, that his words are not laboured
nor forced, but fall into their places in a
natural order, as into their most proper
situation.
Felton.

enlarge the expressions, if it does not darken, does certainly make the light much feebler. Sallust is all life and spirit, yet grave and majestic in his diction: his use of old words is perfectly right: there is no affectation, but more weight and significancy in them: the boldness of his metaphors are among his greatest beauties; they are chosen with great judgment, and shew the force of his genius; the colouring is strong, and the strokes are bold; and in my opinion he chose them for the sake of the brevity he loved, to express more clearly and more forcibly, what otherwise he must have written in looser characters with less strength and beauty. And no fault can be objected to the justest and exactest of the Roman writers.

Livy is the most considerable of the Roman historians, if to the perfection of his style we join the compass of his sub§ 109. Of SALLUST and LIvy. ject; in which he has the advantage over Sallust and Livy, you will read, I hope, all that wrote before him, in any nation with so much pleasure, as to make a but the Jewish, especially over Thucydithorough and intimate acquaintance with des; whose history, however drawn out them. Thucydides and Sallust are gene- into length, is confined to the shortest perally compared, as Livy is with Herodo- riod of any, except what remains of Saltus; and, since I am fallen upon their lust. No historian could be happier in characters, I cannot help touching the the greatness and dignity of his subject, comparison. Sallust is represented as a and none was better qualified to adorn it; concise, a strong, and nervous writer; and for his genius was equal to the majesty of so far he agrees with Thucydides's man- the Roman empire, and every way capaner: but he is also charged with being ble of the mighty undertaking. He is not obscure, as concise writers very often so copious in words, as abundant in matare, without any reason. For, if I may ter, rich in his expression, grave, majes. judge by my own apprehensions, as I read tic, and lively and if I may have liberty him, no writer can be more clear, more ob- to enlarge on the old commendation, I vious and intelligible. He has not,indeed, as would say his style flows with milk and far as I can observe, one redundant expres- honey, in such abundance, such pleasure sion; but his words are all weighed and and sweetness, that when once you are chosen, so expressive and significant, that proficient enough to read him readily, you I will challenge any critic to take a sen- will go on with unwearied delight, and tence of his, and express it clearer or bet- never lay him out of your hands without ter; his contraction seems wrought and impatience to resume him. We may relaboured. To me he appears as a man semble him to Herodotus, in the manner that considered and studied perspicuity of his diction; but he is more like Thuand brevity to that degree, that he would cydides in the grandeur and majesty of not retrench a word which might help expression; and if we observe the mulhim to express his meaning, nor suffer titude of clauses in the length of the peone to stand, if his sense was clear with- riods, perhaps Thucydides himself is not out it. Being more diffuse, would have more crowded; only the length of his weakened his language, and have made it periods is apt to deceive us; and great obscurer rather than clearer; for a multi- men among the ancients, as well as motude of words only serve to cloud or dis- derns, have been induced to think this sipate the sense; and though a copious writer was copious, because his sentences style in a master's hand is clear and beau- were long. Copious he is indeed, and tiful, yet where conciseness and perspi- forcible in his descriptions, not lavish in cuity are once reconciled, any attempt to the number, but exuberant in the richness

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