inducing that inversion in the order of things whereby a passive faculty is made paramount among the faculties conversant with the fine arts.  Proportion and congruity, the requisite knowledge being supposed, are subjects upon which taste may be trusted; it is competent to this office—­for in its intercourse with these the mind is passive, and is affected painfully or pleasurably as by an instinct.  But the profound and the exquisite in feeling, the lofty and universal in thought and imagination; or, in ordinary language, the pathetic and the sublime;—­are neither of them, accurately speaking, objects of a faculty which could ever without a sinking in the spirit of Nations have been designated by the metaphor Taste.  And why?  Because without the exertion of a co-operating power in the mind of the reader, there can be no adequate sympathy with either of these emotions:  without this auxiliary impulse, elevated or profound passion cannot exist.

Passion, it must be observed, is derived from a word which signifies suffering; but the connexion which suffering has with effort, with exertion, and action, is immediate and inseparable.  How strikingly is this property of human nature exhibited by the fact that, in popular language, to be in a passion is to be angry!  But,

  Anger in hasty words or blows
  Itself discharges on its foes.

To be moved, then, by a passion is to be excited, often to external, and always to internal, effort; whether for the continuance and strengthening of the passion, or for its suppression, accordingly as the course which it takes may be painful or pleasurable.  If the latter, the soul must contribute to its support, or it never becomes vivid,—­and soon languishes and dies.  And this brings us to the point.  If every great poet with whose writings men are familiar, in the highest exercise of his genius, before he can be thoroughly enjoyed, has to call forth and to communicate power, this service, in a still greater degree, falls upon an original writer, at his first appearance in the world.—­Of genius the only proof is, the act of doing well what is worthy to be done, and what was never done before:  Of genius, in the fine arts, the only infallible sign is the widening the sphere of human sensibility, for the delight, honour, and benefit of human nature.  Genius is the introduction of a new element into the intellectual universe:  or, if that be not allowed, it is the application of powers to objects on which they had not before been exercised, or the employment of them in such a manner as to produce effects hitherto unknown.  What is all this but an advance, or a conquest, made by the soul of the poet?  Is it to be supposed that the reader can make progress of this kind, like an Indian prince or general—­stretched on his palanquin, and borne by his slaves?  No; he is invigorated and inspirited by his leader, in order that he may exert himself; for he cannot proceed in quiescence, he cannot be carried like a dead weight.  Therefore to create taste is to call forth and bestow power, of which knowledge is the effect; and there lies the true difficulty.