Mannerists in style, however great their powers, rather excite the admiration than the affection of a man of taste; because their habitual art 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 perception.

* * * * *

GOLDSMITH AND JOHNSON.