as to form an invariable principle for himself to work by, had that

merit; but probably no one went very far at once; and generally the

first who gave the hint did not know how to pursue it steadily and

methodically, at least not in the beginning. He himself worked on

it, and improved it; others worked more, and improved farther,

until the secret was discovered, and the practice made as general

as refined practice can be made. How many more principles may be

fixed and ascertained we cannot tell; but as criticism is likely to

go hand in hand with the art which is its subject, we may venture

to say that as that art shall advance, its powers will be still

more and more fixed by rules.

But by whatever strides criticism may gain ground, we need be under

no apprehension that invention will ever be annihilated or subdued,

or intellectual energy be brought entirely within the restraint of

written law. Genius will still have room enough to expatiate, and

keep always the same distance from narrow comprehension and

mechanical performance.

What we now call genius begins, not where rules, abstractedly

taken, end, but where known vulgar and trite rules have no longer

any place. It must of necessity be that even works of genius, as

well as every other effect, as it must have its cause, must

likewise have its rules; it cannot be by chance that excellences

are produced with any constancy, or any certainty, for this is not

the nature of chance, but the rules by which men of extraordinary

parts, and such as are called men of genius work, are either such

as they discover by their own peculiar observation, or of such a

nice texture as not easily to admit handling or expressing in

words, especially as artists are not very frequently skilful in

that mode of communicating ideas.

Unsubstantial, however, as these rules may seem, and difficult as

it may be to convey them in writing, they are still seen and felt