make literature a good thing, having written books
that are eternally readable. If of all them that have tried to write
essays and succeeded after a fashion a twentieth part so much could be
said the world would have a conversational literature of inexhaustible
interest. But indeed there is nothing of the sort. Beside the 'rare and
radiant' masters of the art there are the apprentices, and these are many
and dull.

Generalities.

Essayists, like poets, are born and not made, and for one worth
remembering the world is confronted with a hundred not worth reading.
Your true essayist is in a literary sense the friend of everybody. As
one of the brotherhood has phrased it, it is his function 'to speak with
ease and opportunity to all men.' He must be personal, or his hearers
can feel no manner of interest in him. He must be candid and sincere, or
his readers presently see through him. He must have learned to think for
himself and to consider his surroundings with an eye that is both kindly
and observant, or they straightway find his company unprofitable. He
should have fancy, or his starveling propositions will perish for lack of
metaphor and the tropes and figures needed to vitalise a truism. He does
well to have humour, for humour makes men brothers, and is perhaps more
influential in an essay than in most places else. He will find a little
wit both serviceable to himself and comfortable to his readers. For
wisdom, it is not absolutely necessary that he have it, but in its way it
is as good a property as any: used with judgment, indeed, it does more to
keep an essay sweet and fresh than almost any other quality. And in
default of wisdom--which, to be sure, it is not given to every man, much
less to every essayist, to entertain--he need have no scruples about
using whatever common sense is his; for common sense is a highly
respectable commodity, and never fails of a wide and eager circle of
buyers. A knowledge of men and of books is also to be desired; for it is
a writer's best reason of being, and without it he does well to hold his
tongue. Blessed with these attributes he is an essayist to some purpose.
Give him leisure and occasion, and his discourse may well become as
popular as Montaigne's own.

In Particular.

For the British essayists, they are more talked about than known. It is
to be suspected that from the first their reputation has greatly exceeded
their popularity; and of late year