s of the man of genius. The negative merit suggested appertains to
that hobbling criticism which, in letters, would elevate Addison into
apotheosis. In truth, while that virtue which consists in the mere
avoidance of vice appeals directly to the understanding, and can thus be
circumscribed in rule, the loftier virtue, which flames in creation, can
be apprehended in its results alone. Rule applies but to the merits of
denial--to the excellencies which refrain. Beyond these, the critical
art can but suggest. We may be instructed to build a "Cato," but we
are in vain told how to conceive a Parthenon or an "Inferno." The
thing done, however; the wonder accomplished; and the capacity for
apprehension becomes universal. The sophists of the negative school who,
through inability to create, have scoffed at creation, are now found
the loudest in applause. What, in its chrysalis condition of principle,
affronted their demure reason, never fails, in its maturity of
accomplishment, to extort admiration from their instinct of beauty.

"The author's observations on the artificial style," continued Ellison,
"are less objectionable. A mixture of pure art in a garden scene adds to
it a great beauty. This is just; as also is the reference to the sense
of human interest. The principle expressed is incontrovertible--but
there may be something beyond it. There may be an object in keeping with
the principle--an object unattainable by the means ordinarily possessed
by individuals, yet which, if attained, would lend a charm to the
landscape-garden far surpassing that which a sense of merely human
interest could bestow. A poet, having very unusual pecuniary resources,
might, while retaining the necessary idea of art or culture, or, as
our author expresses it, of interest, so imbue his designs at once with
extent and novelty of beauty, as to convey the sentiment of spiritual
interference. It will be seen that, in bringing about such result, he
secures all the advantages of interest or design, while relieving his
work of the harshness or technicality of the worldly art. In the
most rugged of wildernesses--in the most savage of the scenes of pure
nature--there is apparent the art of a creator; yet this art is apparent
to reflection only; in no respect has it the obvious force of a feeling.
Now let us suppose this sense of the Almighty design to be one step
depressed--to be brought into something like harmony or consistency with
the sense of human a