In doing this then it does more--it helps us ever so happily to see the grave distinction between substance and form in a really wrought work of art signally break down.

I hold it impossible to say, before "The Awkward Age," where one of these elements ends and the other begins: I have been unable at least myself, on re-examination, to mark any such joint or seam, to see the two DISCHARGED offices as separate.
They are separate before the fact, but the sacrament of execution indissolubly marries them, and the marriage, like any other marriage, has only to be a "true" one for the scandal of a breach not to show.
The thing "done," artistically, is a fusion, or it has not BEEN done--in which case of course the artist may be, and all deservedly, pelted with any fragment of his botch the critic shall choose to pick up.

But his ground once conquered, in this particular field, he knows nothing of fragments and may say in all security: "Detach one if you can.

You can analyse in YOUR way, oh yes--to relate, to report, to explain; but you can't disintegrate my synthesis; you can't resolve the elements of my whole into different responsible agents or find your way at all (for your own fell purpose).

My mixture has only to be perfect literally to bewilder you--you are lost in the tangle of the forest.