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446 THEORIES OF STYLE IN LITERATURE<br />

Taylor, and of Hooker, and whatever be the virility of Bunyan<br />

and Dryden, I cannot hold that the age of mature English<br />

prose had been reached until we come to Defoe, Swift,<br />

Addison, Berkeley, and Goldsmith. These are the highest<br />

types we have attained. Many good judges hold Swift to be<br />

our Voltaire, without defect or equal. I should certainly advise<br />

the ambitious essayist to study Swift for instruction, by<br />

reason of the unfailing clearness, simplicity, and directness<br />

But when we come to weigh him by the highest<br />

of his style.<br />

standard of all, we find Swift too uniformly pedestrian, too<br />

dry; wanting in variety, in charm, in melody, in thunder,<br />

and in flash. The grandest prose must be like the vault of<br />

heaven itself, passing from the freshness of dawn to the<br />

warmth of a serene noon, and anon breaking forth into a<br />

crashing storm. Swift sees the sun in one uniform radiance<br />

of cool light, but it never fills the air with warmth,<br />

nor does it ever light the welkin with fire. 10<br />

Addison, with all his mastery of tone, seems afraid to give<br />

his spirit rein. 77 s'ecoute quand il parle : and this, by the way,<br />

is the favorite sin of our best moderns. We see him pause<br />

at the end of each felicitous sentence to ask himself if he has<br />

satisfied all the canons as to propriety of diction. Even in the<br />

Spectator we never altogether forget the author of Cato. Now,<br />

we perceive no canons of good taste, no tragic buskin, no<br />

laborious modulations in the Vicar o] Wakefield, which in its<br />

own vein is the most perfect type of eighteenth-century prose.<br />

Dear old Goldie ! There is ease, pellucid simplicity, wit,<br />

pathos. I doubt if<br />

English prose has ever gone further, or<br />

will go further or higher.<br />

After all I have said, I need not labor the grounds on<br />

which I feel Johnson, Burke, Gibbon, Macaulay, and Carlyle<br />

to be far from perfect as writers and positively fatal if taken<br />

as models. Old Samuel's Ciceronian pomp has actually

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