works which in
their private convictions hold a very subordinate rank. And this
reserve is encouraged by the intemperate scorn of those who question
the supremacy without having the knowledge or the sympathy which could
fairly appreciate the earlier artists. Attacks on the classics by men
ignorant of the classical languages tend to perpetuate the superstition.

But be the merit of the classics, ancient and modern, what it may, no
writer can become a classic by imitating them. The principle of
Sincerity here ministers to the principle of Beauty by forbidding
imitation and enforcing rivalry. Write what you can, and if you have
the grace of felicitous expression or the power of energetic expression
your style will be admirable and admired. At any rate see that it be
your own, and not another's; on no other terms will the world listen to
it. You cannot be eloquent by borrowing from the opulence of another;
you cannot be humorous by mimicking the whims of another; what was a
pleasant smile dimpling his features becomes a grimace on yours.

It will not be supposed that I would have the great writers
disregardod, as if nothing were to be learned from them; but the study
of great writers should be the study of general principles as
illustrated or revealed in these writers; and if properly pursued it
will of itself lead to a condemnation of the notion of models. What we
may learn from them is a nice discrimination of the symbols which
intelligibly express the shades of meaning and kindle emotion. The
writer wishes to give his thoughts a literary form. This is for others,
not for himself; consequently he must, before all things, desire to be
intelligible, and to be so he must adapt his expressions to the mental
condition of his audience. If he employs arbitrary symbols, such as old
words in new and unexpected senses, he may be clear as daylight to
himself, but to others, dark as fog. And the difficulty of original
writing lies in this, that what is new and individual must find
expression in old symbols. This difficulty can only be mastered by a
peculiar talent, strengthened and rendered nimble by practice, and the
commerce with original minds. Great writers should be our companions if
we would learn to write greatly; but no familiarity with their manner
will supply the place of native endowment. Writers are born, no less
than poets, and like poets, they learn to make their native gifts
effective. Practice, aiding their vigilant