dissipates that illusion of sincerity, which we love to believe is the
impulse which places the pen in the hand of an author. Two eminent
literary mannerists are Cicero and Johnson. We know these great men
considered their eloquence as a deceptive art; of any subject, it had been
indifferent to them which side to adopt; and in reading their elaborate
works, our ear is more frequently gratified by the ambitious magnificence
of their diction, than our heart penetrated by the pathetic enthusiasm of
their sentiments. Writers who are not mannerists, but who seize the
appropriate tone of their subject, appear to feel a conviction of what
they attempt to persuade their reader. It is observable, that it is
impossible to imitate with uniform felicity the noble simplicity of a
pathetic writer; while the peculiarities of a mannerist are so far from
being difficult, that they are displayed with nice exactness by middling
writers, who, although their own natural manner had nothing interesting,
have attracted notice by such imitations. We may apply to some monotonous
mannerists these verses of Boileau:

Voulez-vous du public meriter les amours?
Sans cesse en ecrivant variez vos discours.
On lit peu ces auteurs nes pour nous ennuier,
Qui toujours sur un ton semblent psalmodier.

Would you the public's envied favours gain?
Ceaseless, in writing, variegate the strain;
The heavy author, who the fancy calms,
Seems in one tone to chant his nasal psalms.

Every style is excellent, if it be proper; and that style is most proper
which can best convey the intentions of the author to his reader. And,
after all, it is STYLE alone by which posterity will judge of a great
work, for an author can have nothing truly his own but his style; facts,
scientific discoveries, and every kind of information, may be seized by
all, but an author's diction cannot be taken from him. Hence very learned
writers have been neglected, while their learning has not been lost to the
world, by having been given by writers with more amenity. It is therefore
the duty of an author to learn to write as well as to learn to think; and
this art can only be obtained by the habitual study of his sensations, and
an intimate acquaintance with the intellectual faculties. These are the
true prompters of those felicitous expressions which give a tone congruous
to the subject, and which invest our thoughts with all the illusion, the
beauty, and motion of lively perce