lOluDer a BogwooD wttb ^ontalGue 



must not merely sprinkle it, but must dye 

 it "). And in spite of the author's judg- 

 ment to the contrary, such a company will 

 easily class Montaigne with the divine 

 logolepts who *' se detournent de leur 

 voye un quart de heue pour courir apres 

 un beau mot.'* It is only when the 

 thought-harrier and the chaser after fine 

 words coalesce that we have a great Hter- 

 ary man. 



In the best sense Montaigne was a great 

 literary man— the greatest, perhaps, whose 

 writings depend little or not at all upon 

 a recognized form of art for their charm. 

 He had art and was thoroughly conscious 

 of its value ; but it was formless. His ori- 

 ginality took no systematic turn, acknow- 

 ledged no plan established by man or 

 Muse ; yet he was, in his way, as original 

 as Homer. In coming to his work by a 

 fine accident of genius, stumbling upon it 

 in a garret, as it were, he felt and imparted 

 the deHcious surprise of a child suddenly 

 set down amid an endless confusion of 

 toys. He caught up style ; but where did 

 he find it ? Did he absorb it in the French 

 248 



