follow a precept thus embodied by Béranger: "Perfection of style
should be sought by all those who believe themselves called to diffuse
useful thoughts. Style, which is only the form appropriated to a
subject by art and reflection, is the passport of which every thought
has need in order to circulate, expand, and lodge itself in people's
brains. To neglect style is not to show sufficient love for the ideas
one wishes to make others adopt." And so effective is the following of
such a precept that, through careful devices and manipulating
cleverness, a brilliant success, though transitory is achieved by some
writers who range lightly over surfaces, their thoughts dipping no
deeper than a flat stone thrown to skim along the water, which it
keeps ruffling, making a momentary sprightly splash at each contact,
until, its force being soon spent, it disappears and is seen no more.

The possession of certain mental gifts constitutes a talent for
writing, gifts which, with reference to the great primary powers of
the mind, are secondary. Sainte-Beuve says of the Abbé Gerbet
that he "had naturally the flowers of speech, movement and rhythm of
phrase, measure and choice of expression, even figurative language,
what, in short, makes a talent for writing." The possessor of these
qualifications may, nevertheless, rise only a little above mediocrity.
Of the styles of many, even clever, accomplished writers, one gets a
clear notion from the remark made of a certain polished actress, that
she always played well, never better.

When Sainte-Beuve says _Rien ne vit que par le style_, he asserts in
fact the exclusive privilege of original thought to give permanence to
literary work; for nothing but an interior source can give life to
expression. The inward flow will shape itself adequately and
harmoniously in proportion as it has at full command the auxiliary,