ON THE WRITINGS OF

MR. CARLYLE.

Tis a remarkable fact, that every literary work which has achieved a permanent reputation, or attained to the pofition of a national claffic, is more or less perfect in respect of style. So uniformly is this found to be the cafe, that, although many works are more efteemed for the wisdom of their contents than the graces of their manner, yet we may safely predicate that a glaring deficiency in point of style would prove fatal to their permanent success. We can scarcely, for our own part, imagine the cafe of a manual of wifdom which should be wanting in its appropriate vehicle of form and language; for great thoughts are moulded, in return, by expreffions which they have served to modulate; and it is certain that this perfection of manner is a neceffary condition of their univerfal acceptance and uncloying delightfulness. No other quality, apart from this, ever availed to fave the production of human wit or ingenuity from early neglect and ultimate oblivion. Works of the profoundest learning, of deep natural research, and

of great critical fagacity, that feverally astonished contemporary minds with refults equally magnificent and valuable, have perished from their own weight, not being animated and buoyed by that subtle spirit from which the charm of ftyle is conftantly evolved. These authors had found nature lavish of materials, and fondly conceived that it was referved for them to arrange and preferve them for human admiration; but they proved collectors only, and not artifts: they failed to evoke order out of confusion, or to vindicate the supreme utility of beauty. The moment that death took them from their cumulative work, it was liable to be seized upon by fome more masterly and plastic genius; to be broken up, and fifted, and put through a process of selection; and then joined, and shaped, and moulded, and made perfect :-the huge folio chronicles, crowded with matters vital and indifferent, take then the claffic form of hiftory, where facts appear only in their relation to truth, and fo become the manuals of statesmen and philofophers. Thus Tacitus and Hume furvive a thousand more laborious annalists. The latter, indeed, is a striking example of the infinite persuasiveness of style. So apt, confistent, and harmonious, are the ideas in his great work, and fo lucid, pure, and varied the expreffion, that it may henceforth defy the multiplied competition of ages. No fruitful research will fuffice to discredit it, and no novelty of thought avail to fuperfede it. It is immortal by the conditions of its birth; for it

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affumed the body of truth when it received the foul of genius.

Let not the flovenly or eccentric writer fay fcornfully of Style, that it is the mere externalism of thought, as unworthy of a philofopher's attention as the cut of his coat or the shape of his hat. It is the outward and visible sign of exactly corres ponding graces. It is not drefs to the wax-figure, but form and expreffion to the ftatue. Style is one of the most comprehenfive terms in our language; and, as applied to literature and the arts, is made to include both the harmony of thought and language, and the felicitous correfpondence of both to truth and nature. It is, therefore, as requifite that the mathematician and the moralift should aim at perfection in style, as it is that the poet and the humorist should do fo; or rather it is a merit as neceffary to evince the maftery ofthe former as it is to fecure the triumphs of the latter. Exactitude of thought can only manifest itself by precision of language and clearness of expreffion; and fo a definite and axiomatic style will appropriately symbolise and embody a definite philofophy. What, then, must we think of him who practically afferts that ordinary grammatical language is a poor and inadequate medium of his thoughts? who, not satisfied with a fimple predicate of truth, or an intelligible statement of opinion, breaks out into ftrange apoftrophes, half-fentences, and fighs, which no man can rationally connect, or even fseparately conftrue?

Style, therefore, is not a merely superficial merit ;

nor can it be rejected as an unfair test of sound authorship and claffic compofition. If a humorist is happy in his portraiture of character, it is that felicity of delineation that makes his compofition elegant, and not the mere choice of appropriate phrafeology and illuftration; for thefe latter are suggested by the former, and have perhaps little to recommend them but their fimplicity and truth. If a poet is indeed the master of his theme, language will be to him as potter's clay, and the completed poem will prove the faultless image of his fancy. If the moralift or philofopher is really diftinct and confident in his ideas, his words will be only the pure medium of thofe ideas, and the reader will fenfibly enjoy the presence of his author's mind. Failing to express himself in this clear, proper, unfuperfluous manner, there is a hitch fomewhere in our author's greatnefs. Wanting this ferene, oracular, and perfect speech, he must not hope to have a listening world for his audience, or to entrance pofterity by an undying voice. Lefs than wife, let him be content to learn: not yet perfect, let him continue to improve. The "prophets" of mankind must not come from Babel, stammering discordant tongues. If "nature" has indeed commiffioned them, they will employ her one true language, known to allher children.

We have been led into these remarks by an attempt to account for the eccentricities of Mr. Carlyle's more recent and characteristic work; and we regret to say that the conclusion just arrived at bears ftrongly against the pretentious

claims of those very fingular productions. We fhould blame Mr. Carlyle even more, if we efteemed his genius fomewhat higher. But the grofs abfurdity of his ftyle is, we fufpect, not fo much his fault as his misfortune. His wanton defiance of grammar and of taste is not a mere wilful abuse of power, but rather a pitiable exhibition of weakness. Let it be just supposed that Mr. Carlyle may have-as he is constantly affirming or infinuating-some grand specific for the improvement of mankind. But ordinary language is inadequate for its expreffion, and he breaks out into one of the unknown tongues. It would seem, then, Mr. Carlyle poffeffes ideas not only profoundly good and useful-for fuch were thofe of Bacon and Locke-but incommunicable alfo. The language of daily life might indeed fuffice to convey the vulgar truths of his great predeceffors. Their lips might drop maxims of fimpleft wifdom "as faft as the Arabian trees their medicinal gum." With them their readers may ftill have intelligent enjoyment, as not wholly deftitute of the fame reason and affections. But to presume to underftand Mr. Carlyle would be making ourselves too much his equals, if it did not even give us the advantage over him. Let us, then, be content to wonder. Too much familiarity breeds contempt; and if we knew him better, is it certain we should efteem or truft him more? It is well that we fhould not be undeceived; let us live in hope if we die in despair; let us repeat his oracular words time after time, and guess them in our own favour, and