e most vigorous intellects of the time.
Carlyle has given a sufficient explanation of the first paradox; but the
second may justify a little further inquiry. As a general rule, the talk
of a great man is the reflection of his books. Nothing is so false as
the common saying that the presence of a distinguished writer is
generally disappointing. It exemplifies a very common delusion. People
are so impressed by the disparity which sometimes occurs, that they
take the exception for the rule. It is, of course, true that a man's
verbal utterances may differ materially from his written utterances. He
may, like Addison, be shy in company; he may, like many retired
students, be slow in collecting his thoughts; or he may, like Goldsmith,
be over-anxious to shine at all hazards. But a patient observer will
even then detect the essential identity under superficial differences;
and in the majority of cases, as in that of Macaulay himself, the
talking and the writing are palpably and almost absurdly similar. The
whole art of criticism consists in learning to know the human being who
is partially revealed to us in his spoken or his written words. Whatever
the means of communication, the problem is the same. The two methods of
inquiry may supplement each other; but their substantial agreement is
the test of their accuracy. If Johnson, as a writer, appears to us to be
a mere windbag and manufacturer of sesquipedalian verbiage, whilst, as a
talker, he appears to be one of the most genuine and deeply feeling of
men, we may be sure that our analysis has been somewhere defective. The
discrepancy is, of course, partly explained by the faults of Johnson's
style; but the explanation only removes the difficulty a degree further.
'The style is the man' is a very excellent aphorism, though some eminent
writers have lately pointed out that Buffon's original remark was_ le
style c'est de l'homme_. That only proves that, like many other good
sayings, it has been polished and brought to perfection by the process
of attrition in numerous minds, instead of being struck out at a blow by
a solitary thinker. From a purely logical point of view, Buffon may be
correct; but the very essence of an aphorism is that slight exaggeration
which makes it more biting whilst less rigidly accurate. According to
Buffon, the style might belong to a man as an acquisition rather than to
natural growth. There are parasitical writers who, in the old phrase,
have 'formed their