There is but one weight that can turn the scale in the balance of art--that is genius.
Meanwhile, the first, the indispensable merit of a dramatic writer, whether he write in prose or verse, is correctness.

Not a mere superficial correctness, the merit or defect of the descriptive school, which makes Lhomond and Restaut the two wings of its Pegasus; but that intimate, deep-rooted, deliberate correctness, which is permeated with the genius of a language, which has sounded its roots and searched its etymology; always unfettered, because it is sure of its footing, and always more in harmony with the logic of the language.

Our Lady Grammar leads the one in leading-strings; the other holds grammar in leash.

It can venture anything, can create or invent its style; it has a right to do so.

For, whatever certain men may have said who did not think what they were saying, and among whom we must place, notably, him who writes these lines, the French tongue is not _fixed_ and never will be.