which he is first heard. The literary history of the day consists of a
series of judgments set aside.

But this uncertainty must more essentially betide every student, however
lowly, in the school I have called the Intellectual, which must ever
be more or less at variance with the popular canons. It is its hard
necessity to vex and disturb the lazy quietude of vulgar taste; for
unless it did so, it could neither elevate nor move. He who resigns the
Dutch art for the Italian must continue through the dark to explore
the principles upon which he founds his design, to which he adapts his
execution; in hope or in despondence still faithful to the theory which
cares less for the amount of interest created than for the sources from
which the interest is to be drawn; seeking in action the movement of the
grander passions or the subtler springs of conduct, seeking in repose
the colouring of intellectual beauty.

The Low and the High of Art are not very readily comprehended. They
depend not upon the worldly degree or the physical condition of the
characters delineated; they depend entirely upon the quality of the
emotion which the characters are intended to excite,--namely, whether of
sympathy for something low, or of admiration for something high. There
is nothing high in a boor's head by Teniers, there is nothing low in
a boor's head by Guido. What makes the difference between the two? The
absence or presence of the Ideal! But every one can judge of the
merit of the first, for it is of the Familiar school; it requires a
connoisseur to see the merit of the last, for it is of the Intellectual.

I have the less scrupled to leave these remarks to cavil or to sarcasm,
because this fiction is probably the last with which I shall trespass
upon the Public, and I am desirous that it shall contain, at least, my
avowal of the principles upon which it and its later predecessors have
been composed. You know well, however others may dispute the fact,
the earnestness with which those principles have been meditated and
pursued,--with high desire, if but with poor results.

It is a pleasure to feel that the aim, which I value more than the
success, is comprehended by one whose exquisite taste as a critic
is only impaired by that far rarer quality,--the disposition to
over-estimate the person you profess to esteem! Adieu, my sincere and
valued friend; and accept, as a mute token of gratitude and regard,
these flowers gathered in the Garden w