,lectures on ,art    ,by    ,washington 
,allston    ,edited by ,richard ,henry  
,dana1 ,jr4    ,,mdcccl4                
,preface by the ,editor4        ,upon   
the death of ,mr4 ,allston1 it was      
determined1 by those who had  charge of 
his papers1 to prepare his biography and
 correspondence1 and  publish them with 
his writings in prose and verse2 a work 
which would  have occupied two volumes  
of about the same size with the present4
 ,a  delay has unfortunately occurred in
 the preparation of the biography  and  
correspondence2 and1 as there have been 
frequent calls for a  publication of his
 poems1 and of the ,lectures on ,art he 
is known to  have written1 it has been  
thought best to give them to the public 
in  the present form1 without awaiting  
the completion of the whole  design4 ,it
 may be understood1 however1 that1 when 
the biography  and correspondence are   
published1 it will be in a volume       
precisely  corresponding with the       
present1 so as to carry out the original

  design4    ,i will not anticipate the 
duty of the biographer by an extended   
notice  of the life of ,mr4 ,allston2   
but it may be interesting to some       
readers  to know the outline of his     
life1 and the different circumstances   
under  which the several pieces in this 
volume were written4    ,,washington    
,,allston was born at ,charleston1 in   
,south ,carolina1 on the  #eth of       
,november1 #aggi1 of a family           
distinguished in the history of  that   
,state and of the country1 being a      
branch of a family of the  baronet rank 
in the titled commonalty of ,england4   
,like most young  men of the ,south in  
his position at that period1 he was sent
 to ,new  ,england to receive his school
 and college education4 ,his school days
  were passed at ,newport1 in ,rhode    
,island1 under the charge of ,mr4       
,robert ,rogers4 ,he entered ,harvard   
,college in #agif1 and graduated in     
#ahjj4 ,while at school and college1 he 
developed in a marked manner  a love of 

nature1 music1 poetry1 and painting4    
,endowed with senses  capable of the    
nicest perceptions1 and with a mental   
and moral  constitution which tended    
always1 with the certainty of a physical
  law1 to the beautiful1 the pure1 and  
the sublime1 he led what many  might    
call an ideal life4 ,yet was he far from
 being a recluse1 or from  being        
disposed to an excess of introversion4  
,on the contrary1 he was  a popular1    
high-spirited youth1 almost passionately
 fond of society1  maintaining an       
unusual number of warm friendships1 and 
unsurpassed by  any of the young men of 
his day in adaptedness to the elegancies
 and  courtesies of the more refined    
portions of the moving world4 ,romances 
of love1 knighthood1 and heroic deeds1  
tales of banditti1 and stories  of      
supernatural beings1 were his chief     
delight in his early days4 ,yet  his    
classical attainments were considerable1
 and1 as a scholar in the  literature of
 his own language1 his reputation was   

early established4  ,he delivered a poem
 on taking his degree1 which was much   
admired in  its day4    ,on leaving     
college1 he returned to ,south          
,carolina4 ,having determined  to devote
 his life to the fine arts1 he sold1    
hastily and at a  sacrifice1 his share  
of a considerable patrimonial estate1   
and  embarked for ,london in the autumn 
of #ahja4 ,immediately upon his         
arrival1 he became a student of the     
,royal ,academy1 of which his           
countryman1 ,west1 was ,president1 with 
whom he formed an intimate and  lasting 
friendship4 ,after three years spent in 
,england1 and a shorter  stay at ,paris1
 he went to ,italy1 where he spent four 
years devoted  exclusively to the study 
of his art4 ,at ,rome began his intimacy
 with  ,coleridge4 ,among the many      
subsequent expressions of his feeling   
toward  this great man1 none1 perhaps1  
is more striking than the following     
extract from one of his letters3--,to no
 other man do ,i owe so much1           

intellectually1 as to ,mr4 ,coleridge1  
with whom ,i became acquainted  in      
,rome1 and who has honored me with his  
friendship for more than                
five-and-twenty years4 ,he used to call 
,rome the silent city2 but ,i  never    
could think of it as such while with    
him2 for1 meet him when and  where ,i   
would1 the fountain of his mind was     
never dry1 but1 like the  far-reaching  
aqueducts that once supplied this       
mistress of the world1  its living      
stream seemed specially to flow for     
every classic ruin over  which we       
wandered4 ,and when ,i recall some of   
our walks under the pines  of the ,villa
 ,borghese1 ,i am almost tempted to     
dream that ,i have once  listened to    
,plato in the groves of the ,academy4   
,readers of ,coleridge  know in what    
estimation he held the qualities and the
 friendship of  ,mr4 ,allston4 ,beside  
,coleridge and ,west1 he numbered among 
his friends  in ,england1 ,wordsworth1  
,southey1 ,lamb1 ,sir ,george ,beaumont1

 ,reynolds1  and ,fuseli4    ,in #ahji1 
,mr4 ,allston returned to ,america1 and 
remained two years  in ,boston1 his     
adopted home1 and there married the     
sister of ,dr4  ,channing4 ,in #ahaa1 he
 went again to ,england1 where his      
reputation as  an artist had been       
completely established4 ,before his     
departure1 he  delivered a poem before  
the ,phi ,beta ,kappa ,society at       
,cambridge4  ,during a severe illness1  
he removed from ,london to ,clifton1 at 
which  place he wrote ,the ,sylphs of   
the ,seasons4 ,in #ahac1 he made his    
first1 and1 with the exception of       
,monaldi1 twenty-eight years            
afterwards1 his only publication4 ,this 
was a small volume1 entitled  ,the      
,sylphs of the ,seasons1 and other      
,poems1 published in ,london2  and1     
during the same year1 republished in    
,boston under the direction  of his     
friends1 ,professor ,willard of         
,cambridge and ,mr4 ,edmund ,t4 ,dana4  
,this volume was well received1 and gave

 him a place among the first  poets of  
his country4 ,the smaller poems in that 
edition extend as far  as page #bhi of  
the present volume4    ,beside the long 
and serious illness through which he    
passed1 his  spirit was destined to     
suffer a deeper wound by the death of   
,mrs4  ,allston1 in ,london1 during the 
same year4 ,these events gave to his    
mind a more earnest and undivided       
interest in his spiritual relations1    
and drew him more closely than ever     
before to his religious duties4  ,he    
received the rite of confirmation1 and  
through life was a devout  adherent to  
the ,christian doctrine and discipline4 
,the character of ,mr4 ,allston's       
religious feelings may be gathered1     
incidentally1 from many of his writings4
 ,it is a subject to be treated  with   
the reserve and delicacy with which he  
himself would have had it  invested4    
,few minds have been more thoroughly    
imbued with belief in  the reality of   
the unseen world2 few have given more   

full assent to  the truth1 that the     
things which are seen are temporal1 the 
things  which are not seen are eternal4 
,this was not merely an adopted         
opinion1 a conviction imposed upon his  
understanding2 it was of the  essence of
 his spiritual constitution1 one of the 
conditions of his  rational existence4  
,to him1 the ,supreme ,being was no     
vague1 mystical  source of light and    
truth1 or an impersonation of goodness  
and truth  themselves2 nor1 on the other
 hand1 a cold rationalistic notion of an
  unapproachable executor of natural and
 moral laws4 ,his spirit rested  in the 
faith of a sympathetic ,god4 ,his belief
 was in a ,being as  infinitely minute  
and sympathetic in his providences1 as  
unlimited  in his power and knowledge4  
,nor need it be said1 that he was a firm
  believer in the central truths of     
,christianity1 the ,incarnation and     
,redemption2 that he turned from unaided
 speculation to the inspired  record and
 the visible ,church2 that he sought aid

 in the sacraments  ordained for the    
strengthening of infirm humanity1 and   
looked for the  resurrection of the     
dead1 and the life of the world to come4
    ,after a second residence of seven  
years in ,europe1 he returned to        
,america in #ahah1 and again made       
,boston his home4 ,there1 in a circle of
  warmly attached friends1 surrounded by
 a sympathy and admiration which  his   
elevation and purity1 the entire harmony
 of his life and pursuits1  could not   
fail to create1 he devoted himself to   
his art1 the labor of  his love4        
,this is not the place to enumerate his 
paintings1 or to speak of his  character
 as an artist4 ,his general reading he  
continued to the last1  with the        
earnestness of youth4 ,as he retired    
from society1 his taste  inclined him to
 metaphysical studies1 the more1        
perhaps1 from their  contrast with the  
usual occupations of his mind4 ,he took 
particular  pleasure in works of devout 
,christian speculation1 without1        

however1  neglecting a due proportion of
 strictly devotional literature4 ,these 
he varied by a constant recurrence to   
the great epic and dramatic  masters1   
and occasional reading of the earlier   
and the living  novelists1 tales of wild
 romance and lighter fiction1 voyages   
and  travels1 biographies and letters4  
,nor was he without a strong interest   
in the current politics of his own      
country and of ,england1 as to which    
his principles were highly conservative4
    ,upon his marriage with the daughter
 of the late ,judge ,dana1 in #ahcj1  he
 removed to ,cambridge1 and soon        
afterwards began the preparation of  a  
course of lectures on ,art1 which he    
intended to deliver to a select         
audience of artists and men of letters  
in ,boston4 ,four of these he           
completed4 ,rough drafts of two others  
were found among his papers1 but  not in
 a state fit for publication4 ,in #ahda1
 he published his tale of  ,monaldi1 a  
production of his early life4 ,the poems

 in the present  volume1 not included in
 the volume of #ahac1 are1 with two     
exceptions1  the work of his later      
years4 ,in them1 as in his paintings of 
the  same period1 may be seen the       
extreme attention to finish1 always his 
characteristic1 which1 added to         
increasing bodily pain and infirmity1   
was the cause of his leaving so much    
that is unfinished behind him4    ,his  
death occurred at his own house1 in     
,cambridge1 a little past  midnight on  
the morning of ,sunday1 the #ith of     
,july1 #ahdc4 ,he had  finished a day   
and week of labor in his studio1 upon   
his great picture  of ,belshazzar's     
,feast2 the fresh paint denoting that   
the last touches  of his pencil were    
given to that glorious but melancholy   
monument of  the best years of his later
 life4 ,having conversed with his       
retiring  family with peculiar solemnity
 and earnestness upon the obligation and
  beauty of a pure spiritual life1 and  
on the realities of the world to  come1 

he had seated himself at his nightly    
employment of reading and  writing1     
which he usually carried into the early 
hours of the morning4  ,in the silence  
and solitude of this occupation1 in a   
moment1  with touch as gentle as the    
morning light1 which was even then      
approaching1 his spirit was called away 
to its proper home4          ,contents  
,preface ,by ,the ,editor    ,lectures  
on ,art4    ,preliminary ,note4--,ideas 
,introductory ,discourse    ,art        
,form    ,composition    ,aphorisms4    
,sentences ,written by ,mr4 ,allston on 
the ,walls of ,his ,studio    ,the      
,hypochondriac          ,lectures on    
,art4          ,preliminary ,note4      
,ideas4        ,as the word idea will   
frequently occur1 and will be found     
also to hold an important relation to   
our present subject1 we shall           
endeavour1 in limine1 to possess our    
readers of the particular  sense in     
which we understand and apply it4    ,an
 ,idea1 then1 according to our          

apprehension1 is the highest or most    
perfect form in which any thing1 whether
 of the physical1 the  intellectual1 or 
the spiritual1 may exist to the mind4   
,by form1 we do not  mean figure or     
image 7though these may be included in  
relation to the  physical72 but that    
condition1 or state1 in which such      
objects become  cognizable to the mind1 
or1 in other words1 become objects of   
consciousness4    ,ideas are of two     
kinds2 which we shall distinguish by the
 terms primary  and secondary3 the first
 being the manifestation of objective   
realities2 the second1 that of the      
reflex product1 so to speak1 of the     
mental constitution4 ,in both cases1    
they may be said to be                  
self-affirmed1--that is1 they carry in  
themselves their own evidence2  being   
therefore not only independent of the   
reflective faculties1 but  constituting 
the only unchangeable ground of ,truth1 
to which those  faculties may ultimately
 refer4 ,yet have these ,ideas no living

 energy in  themselves2 they are but the
 forms1 as we have said1 through or in  
which  a higher ,power manifests to the 
consciousness the supreme truth of all  
things real1 in respect to the first    
class2 and1 in respect to the second1   
the imaginative truths of the mental    
products1 or mental combinations4 ,of   
the nature and mode of operation of the 
,power to which we refer1 we know1  and 
can know1 nothing2 it is one of those   
secrets of our being which ,he  who made
 us has kept to himself4 ,and we should 
be content with the  assurance1 that we 
have in it a sure and intuitive guide to
 a reverent  knowledge of the beauty and
 grandeur of his works1--nay1 of his own
  adorable reality4 ,and who shall      
gainsay it1 should we add1 that this    
mysterious ,power is essentially        
immanent in that breath of life1 by     
which man becomes a living soul8    ,in 
the following remarks we shall confine  
ourself to the first  class of ,ideas1  
namely1 the ,real2 leaving the second to

 be noticed  hereafter4    ,as to       
number1 ideas are limited only by the   
number of kinds1 without  direct        
relation to degrees2 every object1      
therefore1 having in itself  a          
distinctive essential1 has also its     
distinct idea2 while two  or more       
objects of the same kind1 however       
differing in degree1 must  consequently 
refer only to one and the same4 ,for    
instance1 though a  hundred animals     
should differ in size1 strength1 or     
color1 yet1 if  none of these           
peculiarities are essential to the      
species1 they would  all refer to the   
same supreme idea4    ,the same law     
applies equally1 and with the same      
limitation1 to  the essential           
differences in the intellectual1 the    
moral1 and the  spiritual4 ,all ideas1  
however1 have but a potential existence 
until  they are called into the         
consciousness by some real object2 the  
required condition of the object being a
 predetermined correspondence1  or      

correlation4 ,every such object we term 
an assimilant4    ,with respect to those
 ideas which relate to the physical     
world1 we  remark1 that1 though the     
assimilants required are supplied by    
the senses1 the senses have in          
themselves no productive1  coperating   
energy1 being but the passive           
instruments1 or medium1  through which  
they are conveyed4 ,that the senses1 in 
this relation1  are merely passive1     
admits of no question1 from the obvious 
difference  between the idea and the    
objects4 ,the senses can do no more than
  transmit the external in its actual   
forms1 leaving the images in the  mind  
exactly as they found them2 whereas the 
intuitive power rejects1  or            
assimilates1 indefinitely1 until they   
are resolved into the proper  perfect   
form4 ,now the power which prescribes   
that form must1 of  necessity1 be       
antecedent to the presentation of the   
objects which it  thus assimilates1 as  
it could not else give consistence and  

unity to  what was before separate or   
fragmentary4 ,and every one who has     
ever realized an idea of the class in   
which alone we compare the  assimilants 
with the ideal form1 be he poet1        
painter1 or philosopher1  well knows the
 wide difference between the materials  
and their result4  ,when an idea is thus
 realized and made objective1 it affirms
 its own  truth1 nor can any process of 
the understanding shake its foundation2 
nay1 it is to the mind an essential1    
imperative truth1 then emerging1  as it 
were1 from the dark potential into the  
light of reality4    ,if this be so1 the
 inference is plain1 that the relation  
between the  actual and the ideal is one
 of necessity1 and therefore1 also1 is  
the  predetermined correspondence       
between the prescribed form of an  idea 
and its assimilant2 for how otherwise   
could the former become  recipient of   
that which was repugnant or indifferent1
 when the  presence of the latter       
constitutes the very condition by which 

it is  manifested1 or can be known to   
exist8 ,by actual1 here1 we do not mean 
the exclusively physical1 but whatever1 
in the strictest sense1 can be  called  
an object1 as forming the opposite to a 
mere subject of  the mind4    ,it would 
appear1 then1 that what we call ourself 
must have a  dual reality1 that is1 in  
the mind and in the senses1 since       
neither alone could possibly explain the
 phenomena of the  other2 consequently1 
in the existence of either we have      
clearly  implied the reality of both4   
,and hence must follow the still more   
important truth1 that1 in the conscious 
presence of any  spiritual idea1 we have
 the surest proof of a spiritual object2
  nor is this the less certain1 though  
we perceive not the assimilant4  ,nay1 a
 spiritual assimilant cannot be         
perceived1 but1 to use the words  of    
,st4 ,paul1 is spiritually discerned1   
that is1 by a sense1 so to  speak1 of   
our own spirit4 ,but to illustrate by   
example3 we could not1  for instance1   

have the ideas of good and evil without 
their objective  realities1 nor of right
 and wrong1 in any intelligible form1   
without  the moral law to which they    
refer1--which law we call the           
,conscience2  nor could we have the idea
 of a moral law without a moral         
lawgiver1  and1 if moral1 then          
intelligent1 and1 if intelligent1 then  
personal2  in a word1 we could not now  
have1 as we know we have1 the idea of   
conscience1 without an objective1       
personal ,god4 ,such ideas may well be  
called revelations1 since1 without any  
perceived assimilant1 we find  them     
equally affirmed with those ideas which 
relate to the purely  physical4    ,but 
here it may be asked1 ,how are we to    
distinguish an ,idea from a mere        
notion8 ,we answer1 ,by its             
self-affirmation4 ,for an ideal truth1  
having  its own evidence in itself1 can 
neither be proved nor disproved by any  
thing out of itself2 whatever1 then1    
impresses the mind as truth1 is  truth  

until it can be shown to be false2 and  
consequently1 in the  converse1 whatever
 can be brought into the sphere of the  
understanding1 as  a dialectic subject1 
is not an ,idea4 ,it will be observed1  
however1 that we  do not say an idea may
 not be denied2 but to deny is not to   
disprove4 ,many  things are denied in   
direct contradiction to fact2 for the   
mind can  command1 and in no measured   
degree1 the power of self-blinding1 so  
that it  cannot see what is actually    
before it4 ,this is a psychological     
fact1 which  may be attested by         
thousands1 who can well remember the    
time when they had  once clearly        
discerned what has now vanished from    
their minds4 ,nor does  the actual      
cessation of these primeval forms1 or   
the after presence of  their            
fragmentary1 nay1 disfigured relics1    
disprove their reality1 or  their       
original integrity1 as we could not else
 call them up in their  proper forms at 
any future time1 to the reacknowledging 

their truth3 a  resuscitation and       
result1 so to speak1 which many have    
experienced4    ,in conclusion3 though  
it be but one and the same ,power that  
prescribes  the form and determines the 
truth of all ,ideas1 there is yet an    
essential difference between the two    
classes of ideas to which we have       
referred2 for it may well be doubted    
whether any ,primary ,idea can ever  be 
fully realized by a finite mind1--at    
least in the present state4  ,take1 for 
instance1 the idea of beauty4 ,in its   
highest form1 as  presented to the      
consciousness1 we still find it         
referring to  something beyond and above
 itself1 as if it were but an           
approximation  to a still higher form4  
,the truth of this1 we think1 will be   
particularly felt by the artist1 whether
 poet or painter1 whose mind  may be    
supposed1 from his natural bias1 to be  
more peculiarly capable  of its highest 
developement2 and what true artist was  
ever satisfied  with any idea of beauty 

of which he is conscious8 ,from this    
approximated form1 however1 he doubtless
 derives a high degree of  pleasure1    
nay1 one of the purest of which his     
nature is capable2  yet still is the    
pleasure modified1 if we may so express 
it1 by an  undefined yearning for what  
he feels can never be realized4 ,and    
wherefore this craving1 but for the     
archetype of that which called it       
forth8--,when we say not satisfied1 we  
do not mean discontented1 but  simply   
not in full fruition4 ,and it is better 
that it should be  so1 since one of the 
happiest elements of our nature is that 
which  continually impels it towards the
 indefinite and unattainable4 ,so  far  
as we know1 the like limits may be set  
to every other primary  idea1--as if the
 ,creator had reserved to himself alone 
the possible  contemplation of the      
archetypes of his universe4    ,with    
regard to the other class1 that of      
,secondary ,ideas1 which we  have called
 the reflex product of the mind1 their  

distinguishing  characteristic is1 that 
they not only admit of a perfect        
realization1  but also of outward       
manifestation1 so as to be communicated 
to others4  ,all works of imagination1  
so called1 present examples of this4    
,hence  they may also be termed         
imitative or imaginative4 ,for1 though  
they  draw their assimilants from the   
actual world1 and are likewise          
regulated by the unknown ,power before  
mentioned1 yet are they but the  forms  
of what1 as a whole1 have no actual     
existence2--they are  nevertheless true 
to the mind1 and are made so by the same
 ,power which  affirms their            
possibility4 ,this species of ,truth we 
shall hereafter  have occasion to       
distinguish as ,poetic ,truth4          
,introductory ,discourse4        ,next  
to the developement of our moral nature1
 to have subordinated the  senses to the
 mind is the highest triumph of the     
civilized state4 ,were  it possible to  
embody the present complicated scheme of

 society1 so as  to bring it before us  
as a visible object1 there is perhaps   
nothing  in the world of sense that     
would so fill us with wonder2 for what  
is  there in nature that may not fall   
within its limits8 and yet how small  a 
portion of this stupendous fabric will  
be found to have any direct1  much less 
exclusive1 relation to the actual wants 
of the body6 ,it  might seem1 indeed1 to
 an unreflecting observer1 that our     
physical  necessities1 which1 truly     
estimated1 are few and simple1 have     
rather  been increased than diminished  
by the civilized man4 ,but this is not  
true2 for1 if a wider duty is imposed on
 the senses1 it is only to  minister to 
the increased demands of the            
imagination1 which is now so  mingled   
with our every-day concerns1 even with  
our dress1 houses1 and  furniture1 that1
 except with the brutalized1 the purely 
sensuous wants  might almost be said to 
have become extinct3 with the cultivated
 and  refined1 they are at least so     

modified as to be no longer prominent4  
,but this refilling on the physical1    
like every thing else1 has had its      
opponents3 it is declaimed against as   
artificial4 ,if by artificial is  meant 
unnatural1 we cannot so consider it2 but
 hold1 on the contrary1  that the whole 
multiform scheme of the civilized state 
is not only in  accordance with our     
nature1 but an essential condition to   
the proper  developement of the human   
being4 ,it is presupposed by the very   
wants  of his mind2 nor could it        
otherwise have been1 any more than could
  have been the cabin of the beaver1 or 
the curious hive of the bee1  without   
their prexisting instincts2 it is       
therefore in the highest  sense natural1
 as growing out of the inherent desires 
of the mind4    ,but we would not be    
misunderstood4 ,when we speak of the    
refined  state as not out of nature1 we 
mean such results as proceed from the   
legitimate growth of our mental         
constitution1 which we suppose to  be   

grounded in permanent1 universal        
principles2 and1 whatever               
modifications1 however subtile1 and     
apparently visionary1 may follow  their 
operation in the world of sense1 so long
 as that operation  diverge not from its
 original ground1 its effect must be1 in
 the  strictest sense1 natural4 ,thus   
the wildest visions of poetry1 the      
unsubstantial forms of painting1 and the
 mysterious harmonies of  music1 that   
seem to disembody the spirit1 and make  
us creatures of the  air1--even these1  
unreal as they are1 may all have their  
foundation  in immutable truth2 and we  
may moreover know of this truth by its  
own  evidence4 ,of this species of      
evidence we shall have occasion to speak
  hereafter4 ,but there is another kind 
of growth1 which may well be  called    
unnatural2 we mean1 of those diseased   
appetites1 whose effects  are seen in   
the distorted forms of the conventional1
 having no  ground but in weariness of  
the true2 and it cannot be denied that  

this  morbid growth has its full share1 
inwardly and outwardly1 both of  space  
and importance4 ,these1 however1 must   
sooner or later end as they  began2 they
 perish in the lie they make2 and it    
were well did not  other falsehoods take
 their places1 to prolong a life whose  
only  tenure is inconsequential         
succession1--in other words1 ,fashion4  
,if it be true1 then1 that even the     
commonplaces of life must all in  some  
degree partake of the mental1 there can 
be but one rule by which  to determine  
the proper rank of any object of        
pursuit1 and that is by  its nearer or  
more remote relation to our inward      
nature4 ,every system1  therefore1 which
 tends to degrade a mental pleasure to  
the subordinate  or superfluous1 is both
 narrow and false1 as virtually         
reversing its  natural order4    ,it    
pleased our ,creator1 when he endowed us
 with appetites and  functions by which 
to sustain the economy of life1 at the  
same time to  annex to their exercise a 

sense of pleasure2 hence our daily food1
 and  the daily alternation of repose   
and action1 are no less grateful than   
imperative4 ,that life may be sustained1
 and most of its functions  performed1  
without any coincident enjoyment1 is    
certainly possible4  ,our food may be   
distasteful1 action painful1 and rest   
unrefreshing2  and yet we may eat1 and  
exercise1 and sleep1 nay1 live thus for 
years4  ,but this is not our natural    
condition1 and we call it disease4 ,were
  man a mere animal1 the very act of    
living1 in his natural or healthy       
state1 would be to him a continuous     
enjoyment4 ,but he is also a moral  and 
an intellectual being2 and1 in like     
manner1 is the healthful  condition of  
these1 the nobler parts of his nature1  
attended with  something more than a    
consciousness of the mere process of    
existence4  ,to the exercise of his     
intellectual faculties and moral        
attributes the  same benevolent law has 
superadded a sense of pleasure1--of a   

kind1  too1 in the same degree          
transcending the highest bodily         
sensation1 as  must that which is       
immortal transcend the perishable4 ,it  
is not for us  to ask why it is so2 much
 less1 because it squares not with the  
poor notion of material usefulness1 to  
call in question a fact that  announces 
a nature to which the senses are but    
passing ministers4 ,let  us rather      
receive this ennobling law1 at least    
without misgiving1 lest  in our sensuous
 wisdom we exchange an enduring gift for
 a transient  gratification4    ,of the 
peculiar fruits of this law1 which we   
shall here distinguish by  the general  
term mental pleasures1 it is our purpose
 to treat  in the present discourse4    
,it is with no assumed diffidence that  
we venture on this subject2 for1  though
 we shall offer nothing not believed to 
be true1 we are but too  sensible how   
small a portion of truth it is in our   
power to present4  ,but1 were it far    
greater1 and the present writer of a    

much higher  order of intellect1 there  
would still be sufficient cause for     
humility in view of those impassable    
bounds that have ever met every         
self-questioning of the mind4    ,but   
whilst the narrowness of human knowledge
 may well preclude all  self-exaltation1
 it would be worse than folly to hold as
 naught the  many important truths which
 have been wrought out for us by the    
mighty  intellects of the past4 ,if they
 have left us nothing for vainglory1    
they have left us at least enough to be 
grateful for4 ,nor is it  a little1 that
 they have taught us to look into those 
mysterious  chambers of our being1--the 
abode of the spirit2 and not a little1  
indeed1 if what we are there permitted  
to know shall have brought with  it the 
conviction1 that we are not abandoned to
 a blind empiricism1 to  waste life in  
guesses1 and to guess at last that we   
have all our  lives been guessing       
wrong1--but1 unapproachable though it be
 to the  subordinate ,understanding1    

that we have still within us an abiding 
,interpreter1 which cannot be gainsaid1 
which makes our duty to ,god and  man   
clear as the light1 which ever guards   
the fountain of all true  pleasures1    
nay1 which holds in subjection the last 
high gift of the  ,creator1 that        
imaginative faculty whereby his exalted 
creature1 made  in his image1 might     
mould at will1 from his most marvellous 
world1 yet  unborn forms1 even forms of 
beauty1 grandeur1 and majesty1 having   
all  of truth but his own divine        
prerogative1--the mystery of ,life4     
,as the greater part of those ,pleasures
 which we propose to discuss are        
intimately connected with the material  
world1 it may be well1 perhaps1  to     
assign some reason for the epithet      
mental4 ,to many1 we know1  this will   
seem superfluous2 but1 when it is       
remembered how often we  hear of this   
and that object delighting the eye1 or  
of certain sounds  charming the ear1 it 
may not be amiss to show that such      

expressions  have really no meaning     
except as metaphors4 ,when the senses1  
as the  medium of communication1 have   
conveyed to the mind either the sounds  
or images1 their function ceases4 ,so   
also with respect to the objects3  their
 end is attained1 at least as to us1    
when the sounds or images  are thus     
transmitted1 which1 so far as they are  
concerned1 must for  ever remain the    
same within as without the mind4 ,for1  
where the  ultimate end is not in mere  
bodily sensation1 neither the senses nor
  the objects possess1 of themselves1   
any productive power2 of the  product   
that follows1 the tertium aliquid1      
whether the pleasure  we feel be in a   
beautiful animal or in according sounds1
 neither the  one nor the other is      
really the cause1 but simply the        
occasion4  ,it is clear1 then1 that the 
effect realized supposes of necessity   
another agent1 which must therefore     
exist only in the mind4 ,but of  this   
hereafter4    ,if the cause of any      

emotion1 which we seem to derive from an
 outward  object1 were inherent         
exclusively in the object itself1 there 
could  be no failure in any instance1   
except where the organs of sense were   
either diseased or imperfect4 ,but it is
 a matter of fact that they  often do   
fail where there is no disease or       
organic defect4 ,many of us1  perhaps1  
can call to mind certain individuals1   
whose sense of hearing  is as acute as  
our own1 who yet can by no possibility  
be made to  recognize the slightest     
relation between the according notes of 
the  simplest melody2 and1 though they  
can as readily as others distinguish    
the individual sounds1 even to the      
degrees of flatness and sharpness1  the 
harmonic agreement is to them as mere   
noise4 ,let us suppose  ourselves       
present at a concert1 in company with   
one such person and  another who        
possesses what is called musical        
sensibility4 ,how are  they affected1   
for instance1 by a piece of ,mozart's8  

,in the sense  of hearing they are      
equal3 look at them4 ,in the one we     
perceive  perplexity1 annoyance1 perhaps
 pain2 he hears nothing but a confused  
medley of sounds4 ,in the other1 the    
whole being is rapt in ecstasy1  the    
unutterable pleasure gushes from his    
eyes1 he cannot articulate  his         
emotion2--in the words of one1 who felt 
and embodied the subtile  mystery in    
immortal verse1 his very soul seems     
lapped in ,elysium4  ,now1 could this   
difference be possible1 were the sole   
cause1 strictly  speaking1 in mere      
matter8    ,nor do we contradict our    
position1 when we admit1 in certain     
cases1--for instance1 in the            
producer1--the necessity of a nicer     
organization1 in order to the more      
perfect transmission of the  finer      
emotions2 inasmuch as what is to be     
communicated in space and  time must    
needs be by some medium adapted thereto4
    ,such a person as ,paganini1 it is  
said1 was able to discourse most        

excellent music on a ballad-monger's    
fiddle2 yet will any one  question that 
he needed an instrument of somewhat     
finer construction  to show forth his   
full powers8 ,nay1 we might add1 that he
 needed no  less than the most delicate 
,cremona1--some instrument1 as it  were1
 articulated into humanity1--to have    
inhaled and respired those  attenuated  
strains1 which1 those who heard them    
think it hardly  extravagant to say1    
seemed almost to embody silence4    ,now
 this mechanical instrument1 by means of
 which such marvels were  wrought1 is   
but one of the many visible symbols of  
that more subtile  instrument through   
which the mind acts when it would       
manifest itself4  ,it would be too      
absurd to ask if any one believed that  
the music we  speak of was created1 as  
well as conveyed1 by the instrument4    
,the  violin of ,paganini may still be  
seen and handled2 but the soul that     
inspired it is buried with its master4  
,if we admit a distinction between mind 

and matter1 and the result we  speak of 
be purely mental1 we should contradict  
the universal law  of nature to assign  
such a product to mere matter1 inasmuch 
as the  natural law forbids in the lower
 the production of the higher4 ,take  an
 example from one of the lower forms of 
organic life1--a common  vegetable4     
,will any one assert that the           
surrounding inorganic elements  of air1 
earth1 heat1 and water produce its      
peculiar form8 ,though some1  or all1 of
 these may be essential to its          
developement1 they are so  only as its  
predetermined correlatives1 without     
which its existence  could not be       
manifested2 and in like manner must the 
peculiar form of  the vegetable prexist 
in its life1--in its idea1--in order to 
evolve by these assimilants its own     
proper organism4    ,no possible        
modification in the degrees or          
proportion of these  elements can change
 the specific form of a plant1--for     
instance1 a  cabbage into a cauliflower2

 it must ever remain a cabbage1 small or
  large1 good or bad4  ,so1 too1 is the 
external world to the  mind2 which      
needs1 also1 as the condition of its    
manifestation1 its  objective           
correlative4 ,hence the presence of some
 outward object1  predetermined to      
correspond to the prexisting idea in its
 living  power1 is essential to the     
evolution of its proper end1--the       
pleasurable emotion4 ,we beg it may be  
noted that we do not say  sensation4    
,and hence we hold ourself justified in 
speaking of  such presence as simply the
 occasion1 or condition1 and not1 per   
se1 the cause4 ,and hence1 moreover1 may
 be inferred the absolute  necessity of 
,dual ,forces in order to the actual    
existence of any  thing4 ,one alone1 the
 incomprehensible ,author of all things1
 is  self-subsisting in his perfect     
,unity4    ,we shall now endeavour to   
establish the following proposition3    
namely1  that the ,pleasures in question
 have their true source in ,one         

,intuitive  ,universal ,principle or    
living ,power1 and that the three ,ideas
 of  ,beauty1 ,truth1 and ,holiness1    
which we assume to represent the        
perfect in the physical1 intellectual1  
and moral worlds1 are  but the several  
realized phases of this sovereign       
principle1 which we  shall call         
,harmony4    ,our first step1 then1 is  
to possess ourself of the essential or  
distinctive characteristic of these     
pleasurable emotions4 ,apparently1      
there is nothing more simple4 ,and yet  
we are acquainted with no single  term  
that shall fully express it4 ,but what  
every one has more or less  felt may    
certainly be made intelligible in a more
 extended form1 and1  we should think1  
by any one in the slightest degree      
competent to  self-examination4 ,let a  
person1 then1 be appealed to2 and let   
him put  the question as to what passes 
within him when possessed by these      
emotions2 and the spontaneous feeling   
will answer for us1 that what we  call  

self has no part in them4 ,nay1 we      
further assert1 that1  when singly felt1
 that is1 when unallied to other        
emotions as  modifying forces1 they are 
wholly unmixed with any personal        
considerations1 or any conscious        
advantage to the individual4    ,nor is 
this assigning too high a character to  
the feelings in question  because       
awakened in so many instances by the    
purely physical2 since  their true      
origin may clearly be traced to a common
 source with those  profounder emotions 
which we are wont to ascribe to the     
intellectual  and moral4 ,besides1 it   
should be borne in mind1 that no        
physical  object can be otherwise to the
 mind than a mere occasion2 its  inward 
product1 or mental effect1 being from   
another ,power4 ,the proper  view       
therefore is1 not that such alliance can
 ever degrade the higher  agent1 but    
that its more humble and material       
assimilant is thus  elevated by it4 ,so 
that nothing in nature should be counted

 mean1  which can thus be exalted2 but  
rather be honored1 since no object can  
become so assimilated except by its     
predetermined correlation to our  better
 nature4    ,neither is it the privilege
 of the exclusive few1 the refined and  
cultivated1 to feel them deeply4 ,if we 
look beyond ourselves1 even to  the     
promiscuous multitude1 the instance will
 be rare1 if existing at  all1 where    
some transient touch of these purer     
feelings has not raised  the individual 
to1 at least1 a momentary exemption from
 the common  thraldom of self4 ,and we  
greatly err if their universality is not
  solely limited by those shades of the 
prison-house1 which1 in the  words of   
the poet1 too often close upon the      
growing boy4 ,nay1 so  far as we have   
observed1 we cannot admit it as a       
question whether any  person through a  
whole life has always been wholly       
insensible1--we  will not say 7though   
well we might7 to the good and          
true1--but to  beauty2 at least1 to some

 one kind1 or degree1 of the beautiful4 
,the  most abject wretch1 however       
animalized by vice1 may still be able to
  recall the time when a morning or     
evening sky1 a bird1 a flower1 or  the  
sight of some other object in nature1   
has given him a pleasure1  which he felt
 to be distinct from that of his animal 
appetites1 and  to which he could attach
 not a thought of self-interest4 ,and1  
though  crime and misery may close the  
heart for years1 and seal it up for     
ever to every redeeming thought1 they   
cannot so shut out from the  memory     
these gleams of innocence2 even the     
brutified spirit1 the  castaway of his  
kind1 has been made to blush at this    
enduring light2  for it tells him of a  
truth1 which might else have never been 
remembered1--that he has once been a    
man4    ,and here may occur a           
question1--which might well be left to  
the ultra  advocates of the cui         
bono1--whether a simple flower may not  
sometimes be of higher use than a       

labor-saving machine4    ,as to the     
objects whose effect on the mind is here
 discussed1 it is  needless to specify  
them2 they are1 in general1 all such as 
are known  to affect us in the manner   
described4 ,the catalogue will vary both
 in  number and kind with different     
persons1 according to the degree of     
force or developement in the overruling 
,principle4    ,we proceed1 then1 to    
reply to such objections as will        
doubtless be  urged against the         
characteristic assumed4 ,and first1 as  
regards the  ,beautiful1 we shall       
probably be met by the received notion1 
that we  experience in ,beauty one of   
the most powerful incentives to passion2
  while examples without number will be 
brought in array to prove it  also the  
wonder-working cause of almost fabulous 
transformations1--as  giving energy to  
the indolent1 patience to the quick1    
perseverance  to the fickle1 even       
courage to the timid2 and1 vice vers1 as
  unmanning the hero1--nay1 urging the  

honorable to falsehood1 treason1  and   
murder2 in a word1 through the mastered1
 bewildered1 sophisticated  self1 as    
indifferently raising and sinking the   
fascinated  object to the heights and   
depths of pleasure and misery1 of virtue
 and  vice4    ,now1 if the ,beauty here
 referred to is of the human being1 we  
do not gainsay it2 but this is beauty in
 its mixed mode1--not  in its high1     
passionless form1 its singleness and    
purity4 ,it is not  ,beauty as it       
descended from heaven1 in the cloud1 the
 rainbow1 the  flower1 the bird1 or in  
the concord of sweet sounds1 that seem  
to  carry back the soul to whence it    
came4    ,could we look1 indeed1 at the 
human form in its simple1 unallied      
physical structure1--on that1 for       
instance1 of a beautiful woman1--and    
forget1 or rather not feel1 that it is  
other than a form1 there  could be but  
one feeling3 that nothing visible was   
ever so framed to  banish from the soul 
every ignoble thought1 and imbue it1 as 

it were1  with primeval innocence4      
,we are quite aware that the doctrine   
assumed in our main proposition  with   
regard to ,beauty1 as holding exclusive 
relation to the ,physical1  is not very 
likely to forestall favor2 we therefore 
beg for it only  such candid attention  
as1 for the reasons advanced1 it may    
appear to  deserve4    ,that such       
effects as have just been objected could
 not be from ,beauty  alone1 in its pure
 and single form1 but rather from its   
coincidence  with some real or supposed 
moral or intellectual quality1 or with  
the  animal appetites1 seems to us      
clear2 as1 were it otherwise1 we might  
infer the same from a beautiful         
infant1--the very thought of which is   
revolting to common sense4 ,in such     
conjunction1 indeed1 it cannot but  have
 a certain influence1 but so modified as
 often to become a mere  accessory1     
subordinated to the animal or moral     
object1 and for the  attainment of an   
end not its own2 in proof of which1 we  

find it almost  uniformly partaking the 
penalty imposed on its incidental       
associates1  should ever their desires  
result in illusion1--namely1 in the     
aversion  that follows4 ,but the result 
of ,beauty can never be such2 when it   
seems otherwise1 the effect1 we think1  
can readily be traced to other  causes1 
as we shall presently endeavour to show4
    ,it cannot be a matter of           
controversy whether ,beauty is limited  
to the  human form2 the daily experience
 of the most ordinary man would answer  
,no3 he finds it in the woods1 the      
fields1 in plants and animals1  nay1 in 
a thousand objects1 as he looks upon    
nature2 nor1 though  indefinitely       
diversified1 does he hesitate to assign 
to each the same  epithet4 ,and why8    
,because the feelings awakened by all   
are similar in  kind1 though varying1   
doubtless1 by many degrees in           
intenseness4 ,now  suppose he is asked  
of what personal advantage is all this  
beauty to  him4 ,verily1 he would be    

puzzled to answer4 ,it gives him        
pleasure1  perhaps great pleasure4 ,and 
this is all he could say4 ,but why      
should  the effect be different1 except 
in degree1 from the beauty of a human   
being8 ,we have already the answer in   
this concluding term4 ,for what is  a   
human being but one who unites in       
himself a physical1 intellectual1  and  
moral nature1 which cannot in one become
 even an object of thought  without at  
least some obscure shadowings of its    
natural allies8 ,how1  then1 can we     
separate that which has an exclusive    
relation to his  physical form1 without 
some perception of the moral and        
intellectual  with which it is joined8  
,but how do we know that ,beauty is     
limited  to such exclusive relation8    
,this brings us to the great problem2 so
  simple and easy of solution in all    
other cases1 yet so intricate and       
apparently inexplicable in man4 ,in     
other things1 it would be felt  absurd  
to make it a question1 whether referring

 to form1 color1 or  sound4 ,a single   
instance will suffice4 ,let us suppose1 
then1 an  unfamiliar object1 whose      
habits1 disposition1 and so forth1 are  
wholly  unknown1 for instance1 a bird of
 paradise1 to be seen for the  first    
time by twenty persons1 and they all    
instantly call it  beautiful2--could    
there be any doubt that the pleasure it 
produced  in each was of the same kind8 
or would any one of them ascribe his    
pleasure to any thing but its form and  
plumage8 ,concerning natural  objects1  
and those inferior animals which are not
 under the influence  of domestic       
associations1 there is little or no     
difference among men3  if they differ1  
it is only in degree1 according to their
 sensibility4  ,men do not dispute about
 a rose4 ,and why8 ,because there is    
nothing  beside the physical to         
interfere with the impression it was    
predetermined to make2 and the idea of  
beauty is realized instantly4  ,so1     
also1 with respect to other objects of  

an opposite character2 they  can speak  
without deliberating1 and call them     
plain1 homely1 ugly1 and  so on1 thus   
instinctively expressing even their     
degree of remoteness  from the condition
 of beauty4 ,who ever called a pelican  
beautiful1 or  even many animals        
endeared to us by their valuable        
qualities1--such as  the intelligent and
 docile elephant1 or the affectionate   
orang-outang1  or the faithful mastiff8 
,nay1 we may run through a long list of 
most  useful and amiable creatures1 that
 could not1 under any circumstances1    
give birth to an emotion corresponding  
to that which we ascribe to the         
beautiful4    ,but there is scarcely a  
subject on which mankind are wider at   
variance1 than on the beauty of their   
own species1--some preferring  this1 and
 others that1 particular conformation2  
which can only be  accounted for on the 
supposition of some predominant         
expression1  either moral1 intellectual1
 or sensual1 with which they are in     

sympathy1 or else the reverse4 ,while   
some will task their memory1  and resort
 to the schools1 for their supposed     
infallible  rules2--forgetting1         
meanwhile1 that ultimate tribunal to    
which  their canon must itself appeal1  
the ever-living principle which first   
evolved its truth1 and which now1 as    
then1 is not to be reasoned  about1 but 
felt4 ,it need not be added how fruitful
 of blunders  is this mechanical ground4
    ,now we venture to assert that no   
mistake was ever made1 even in a  single
 glance1 concerning any natural object1 
not disfigured by human  caprice1 or    
which the eye had not been trained to   
look at through  some conventional      
medium4 ,under this latter circumstance1
 there are  doubtless many things in    
nature which affect men very            
differently2 and  more especially such  
as1 from their familiar nearness1 have  
come under  the influence of opinion1   
and been incrusted1 as it were1 by  the 
successive deposits of many generations4

 ,but of the vast and  various multitude
 of objects which have thus been forced 
from their  original state1 there is    
perhaps no one which has undergone so   
many  and such strange disfigurements as
 the human form2 or in relation to      
which our ideas1 as we are pleased to   
call them1 but in truth our  opinions1  
have been so fluctuating4 ,if an ,idea1 
indeed1 had any thing  to do with       
,fashion1 we should call many things    
monstrous to  which custom has          
reconciled us4 ,let us suppose a case1  
by way of  illustration4 ,a gentleman   
and lady1 from one of our fashionable   
cities1 are making a tour on the borders
 of some of our new  settlements in the 
,west4 ,they are standing on the edge of
 a forest1  perhaps admiring the        
grandeur of nature2 perhaps1 also1 they 
are  lovers1 and sharing with nature    
their admiration for each other1 whose  
personal charms are set off to the      
utmost1 according to the most  approved 
notions1 by the taste and elegance of   

their dress4 ,then  suppose an ,indian  
hunter1 who had never seen one of our   
civilized  world1 or heard of our       
costume1 coming suddenly upon them1     
their faces  being turned from him4     
,would it be possible for him to imagine
 what  kind of animals they were8 ,we   
think not2 and least of all1 that he    
would suppose them to be of his own     
species4 ,this is no improbable  case2  
and we very much fear1 should it ever   
occur1 that the unrefined  savage would 
go home with an impression not very     
flattering either to  the milliner or   
the tailor4    ,that1 under such        
disguises1 we should consider human     
beauty as a kind  of enigma1 or a thing 
to dispute about1 is not surprising2 nor
 even  that we should often differ from 
ourselves1 when so much of the  outward 
man is thus made to depend on the       
shifting humors of some  paramount      
,petronius of the shears4 ,but1         
admitting it to be an easy  matter to   
divest the form1 or1 what is still more 

important1 our  own minds1 of every     
thing conventional1 there is the still  
greater  obstacle to any true effect    
from the person alone1 in that moral    
admixture1 already mentioned1 which1    
more or less1 must color the  most of   
our impressions from every individual4  
,is there not1 then1  sufficient ground 
for at least a doubt if1 excepting      
idiots1 there is  one human being in    
whom the purely physical is at all times
 the  sole agent8 ,we do not say that it
 does not generally predominate4 ,but1  
in a compound being like man1 it seems  
next to impossible that the  nature     
within should not at times1 in some     
degree1 transpire through  the most     
rigid texture of the outward form4 ,we  
may not1 indeed1 always  read aright the
 character thus obscurely indexed1 or   
even be able to  guess at it1 one way or
 the other2 still1 it will affect us2   
nay1 most  so1 perhaps1 when most       
indefinite4 ,every man is1 to a certain 
extent1  a physiognomist3 we do not     

mean1 according to the common           
acceptation1  that he is an interpreter 
of lines and quantities1 which may be   
reduced to rules2 but that he is born   
one1 judging1 not by any  conscious     
rule1 but by an instinct1 which he can  
neither explain nor  comprehend1 and    
which compels him to sit in judgment1   
whether he will  or no4 ,how else can we
 account for those instantaneous        
sympathies and  antipathies towards an  
utter stranger8    ,now this moral      
influence has a twofold source1 one in  
the object1  and another in ourselves2  
nor is it easy to determine which is the
  stronger as a counteracting force4    
,hitherto we have considered only  the  
former2 we now proceed with a few       
remarks upon the latter4    ,will any   
man say1 that he is wholly without some 
natural or acquired  bias8 ,this is the 
source of the counteracting influence   
which we speak  of in ourselves2 but    
which1 like many other of the secret    
springs1  both of thought and feeling1  

few men think of4 ,it is nevertheless   
one  which1 on this particular subject1 
is scarcely ever inactive2  and         
according to the bias will be our       
impressions1 whether we be  intellectual
 or sensual1 coldly speculative or      
ardently imaginative4  ,we do not mean  
that it is always called forth by every 
thing we  approach2 we speak only of its
 usual activity between man and man2 for
  there seems to be a mysterious        
something in our nature1 that1 in spite 
of our wishes1 will rarely allow of an  
absolute indifference towards  any of   
the species2 some effect1 however       
slight1 even as that of the  air which  
we unconsciously inhale and again       
respire1 must follow1  whether directly 
from the object or reacting from        
ourselves4 ,nay1 so  strong is the law1 
whether in attraction or repulsion1 that
 we cannot  resist it even in relation  
to those human shadows projected on air 
by  the mere imagination2 for we feel it
 in art only less than in nature1       

provided1 however1 that the imagined    
being possess but the indication  of a  
human soul3 yet not so is it1 if        
presenting only the outward  form1 since
 a mere form can in itself have no      
affinity with either  the heart or      
intellect4 ,and here we would ask1 ,does
 not this  striking exception in the    
present argument cast back1 as it were1 
a  confirmatory reflection8    ,we have 
often thought1 that the power of the    
mere form could not be  more strongly   
exemplified than at a common paint-shop4
 ,among the  annual importations from   
the various marts of ,europe1 how  many 
beautiful faces1 without an atom of     
meaning1 attract the                    
passengers1--stopping high and low1     
people of all descriptions1  and        
actually giving pleasure1 if not to     
every one1 at least to the  majority2   
and very justly1 for they have beauty1  
and nothing  else4 ,but let another     
artist1 some man of genius1 copy the    
same  faces1 and add character1--breathe

 into them souls3 from that moment  the 
passers-by would see as if with other   
eyes2 the affections and  the           
imagination then become the spectators2 
and1 according to the  quickness or     
dulness1 the vulgarity or refinement1 of
 these1 would be  the impression4 ,thus 
a coarse mind may feel the beauty in the
 hard1  soulless forms of ,van der      
,werf1 yet turn away with apathy from   
the  sanctified loveliness of a ,madonna
 by ,raffaelle4    ,but to return to the
 individual bias1 which is continually  
inclining  to1 or repelling1 ,what is   
more common1 especially with women1 than
  a high admiration of a plain person1  
if connected with wit1 or a  pleasing   
address8 ,can we have a stronger case in
 point than that of  the celebrated     
,wilkes1 one of the ugliest1 yet one of 
the most  admired men of his time8 ,even
 his own sex1 blinded no doubt by their 
sympathetic bias1 could see no fault in 
him1 either in mind or  person2 for1    
when it was objected to the latter1 that

 he squinted  confoundedly1 the reply   
was1 ,no1 ,sir1 not more than a         
gentleman  ought to squint4    ,of the  
tendency to particular pursuits1--to    
art1 science1 or any  particular course 
of life1--we do not speak2 the bias we  
allude to is  in the more personal      
disposition of the man1--in that which  
gives a  tone to his internal character2
 nor is it material of what  proportions
 compounded1 of the affections1 or the  
intellect1 or the  senses1--whether of  
some only1 or the whole2 that these form
 the  ground of every man's bias is no  
less certain1 than the fact that  there 
is scarcely any secret which men are in 
the habit of guarding  with such        
sedulous care4 ,nay1 it would seem as if
 every one were  impelled to it by some 
superstitious instinct1 that every one  
might  have it to say to himself1 ,there
 is one thing in me which is all my     
own4 ,be this as it may1 there are few  
things more hazardous than  to pronounce
 with confidence on any man's bias4     

,indeed1 most men would  be puzzled to  
name it to themselves2 but its existence
 in them is  not the less a fact1       
because the form assumed may be so mixed
 and  complicated as to be utterly      
undefinable4 ,it is enough1 however1    
that  every one feels1 and is more or   
less led by it1 whether definite or     
not4    ,this being the case1 how is it 
possible that it should not in some     
degree affect our feelings towards every
 one we meet1--that it should  not leave
 some speck of leaven on each           
impression1 which shall  impregnate it  
with something that we admire and love1 
or else with  that which we hate and    
despise8    ,and what is the most       
beautiful or the most ungainly form     
before a  sorcerer like this1 who can   
endow a fair simpleton with the rarest  
intellect1 or transform1 by a glance1   
the intellectual1 noble-hearted  dwarf  
to an angel of light8 ,these1 of course1
 are extreme cases4 ,but  if true in    
these1 as we have reason to believe1 how

 formidable the  power6    ,but though1 
as before observed1 we may not read this
 secret with  precision1 it is sometimes
 possible to make a shrewd guess at the 
prevailing tendency in certain          
individuals4 ,perhaps the most obvious  
cases are among the sanguine and        
imaginative2 and the guess would be1    
that a beautiful person would presently 
be enriched with all possible  virtues1 
while the colder speculatist would only 
see in it1 not what  it possessed1 but  
the mind that it wanted4 ,now it would  
be curious to  imagine 7and the case is 
not impossible7 how the eyes of each    
might be  opened1 with the probable     
consequence1 how each might feel when   
his  eyes were opened1 and the object   
was seen as it really is4 ,some         
untoward circumstance comes unawares on 
the perfect creature3 a burst  of temper
 knits the brow1 inflames the eye1      
inflates the nostril1  gnashes the      
teeth1 and converts the angel into a    
storming fury4 ,what  then becomes of   

the visionary virtues8 ,they have passed
 into air1 and  taken with them1 also1  
what was the fair creature's right1--her
  very beauty4 ,yet a different change  
takes place with the dry man of         
intellect4 ,the mindless object has     
taken shame of her ignorance2 she       
begins to cultivate her powers1 which   
are gradually developed until  they     
expand and brighten2 they inform her    
features1 so that no one can  look upon 
them without seeing the evidence of no  
common intellect3 the  dry man1 at last1
 is struck with their superior          
intelligence1 and what  more surprises  
him is the grace and beauty1 which1 for 
the first time1  they reveal to his     
eyes4 ,the learned dust which had so    
long buried his  heart is quickly       
brushed away1 and he weds the embodied  
mind4 ,what  third change may follow1 it
 is not to our purpose to foresee4      
,has human beauty1 then1 no power8 ,when
 united with virtue and  intellect1 we  
might almost answer1--,all power4 ,it is

 the embodied  harmony of the true poet2
 his visible ,muse2 the guardian angel  
of his  better nature2 the inspiring    
sibyl of his best affections1 drawing   
him  to her with a purifying charm1 from
 the selfishness of the world1 from     
poverty and neglect1 from the low and   
base1 nay1 from his own frailty  or     
vices3--for he cannot approach her with 
unhallowed thoughts1 whom  the          
unlettered and ignorant look up to with 
awe1 as to one of a  race above them2   
before whom the wisest and best bow down
 without  abasement1 and would bow in   
idolatry but for a higher reverence4    
,no6 there is no power like this of     
mortal birth4 ,but against the          
antagonist moral1 the human beauty of   
itself has no power1 no  self-sustaining
 life4 ,while it panders to evil        
desires1 then1 indeed1  there are few   
things may parallel its fearful might4  
,but the unholy  alliance must at last  
have an end4 ,look at it then1 when the 
beautiful  serpent has cast her slough4 

,let us turn to it for a moment1 and    
behold it in league with elegant        
accomplishments and a subtile intellect3
 how complete its triumph6 ,if  ever the
 soul may be said to be intoxicated1 it 
is then1 when it feels  the full power  
of a beautiful1 bad woman4 ,the fabled  
enchantments  of the ,east are less     
strange and wonder-working than the     
marvellous  changes which her spell has 
wrought4 ,for a time every thought seems
  bound to her will2 the eternal eye of 
the conscience closes before  her2 the  
everlasting truths of right and wrong   
sleep at her bidding2  nay1 things most 
gross and abhorred become suddenly      
invested with  a seeming purity3 till   
the whole mind is hers1 and the         
bewildered  victim1 drunk with her      
charms1 calls evil good4 ,then1 what may
 follow8  ,read the annals of crime2 it 
will tell us what follows the broken    
spell1--broken by the first degrading   
theft1 the first stroke of the  dagger1 
or the first drop of poison4 ,the       

felon's eye turns upon the  beautiful   
sorceress with loathing and abhorrence3 
an asp1 a toad1 is  not more hateful6   
,the story of ,milwood has many         
counterparts4    ,but1 although ,beauty 
cannot sustain itself permanently       
against what is  morally bad1 and has no
 direct power of producing good1 it yet 
may1  and often does1 when unobstructed1
 through its unimpassioned purity1      
predispose to the good1 except1 perhaps1
 in natures grossly depraved2  inasmuch 
as all affinities to the pure are so    
many reproaches to the  vitiated mind1  
unless convertible to some selfish end4 
,witness the  beautiful wife1 wedded for
 what is misnamed love1 yet becoming the
  scorn of a brutal husband1--the more  
bitter1 perhaps1 if she be also  good4  
,but1 aside from those counteracting    
causes so often mentioned1  it is as we 
have said3 we are predisposed to feel   
kindly1 and to think  purely1 of every  
beautiful object1 until we have reason  
to think  otherwise2 and according to   

our own hearts will be our thoughts4    
,we are aware of but one other objection
 which has not been noticed1  and which 
might be made to the intuitive nature of
 the ,idea4 ,how is  it1 we may be      
asked1 that artists1 who are supposed1  
from their early  discipline1 to have   
overcome all conventional bias1 and also
 to have  acquired the more difficult   
power of analyzing their models1 so as  
to  contemplate them in their separate  
elements1 have so often varied as  to   
their ideas of ,beauty8 ,whether artists
 have really the power thus  ascribed to
 them1 we shall not here inquire2 it is 
no doubt1 if  possible1 their business  
to acquire it4 ,but1 admitting it as    
true1 we  deny the position3 they do not
 change their ideas4 ,they can have but 
one ,idea of ,beauty1 inasmuch as that  
,idea is but a specific phase of  one   
immutable ,principle1--if there be such 
a principle2 as we shall  hereafter     
endeavour to show4 ,nor can they have of
 it any  essentially different1 much    

less opposite1 conceptions3 but their   
apprehension of it may undergo many     
apparent changes1 which1  nevertheless1 
are but the various degrees that only   
mark a fuller  conception2 as their more
 extended acquaintance with the higher  
outward assimilants of ,beauty brings   
them1 of course1 nearer to a  perfect   
realization of the prexisting ,idea4 ,by
 perfect1 here1  we mean only the       
nearest approximation by man4 ,and we   
appeal to every  artist1 competent to   
answer1 if it be not so4 ,does he ever  
descend  from a higher assimilant to a  
lower8 ,suppose him to have been born in
  ,italy2 would he go to ,holland to    
realize his ,idea8 ,but many a ,dutchman
  has sought in ,italy what he could not
 find in his own country4 ,we  do not by
 this intend any reflection on the      
latter1--a country so  fruitful of      
genius2 it is only saying that the human
 form in ,italy is  from a finer mould4 
,then1 what directs the artist from one 
object to  another1 and determines him  

which to choose1 if he has not the guide
  within him8 ,and why else should all  
nations instinctively bow before  the   
superior forms of ,greece8    ,we add   
but one remark4 ,supposing the artist to
 be wholly freed from  all modifying    
biases1 such is seldom the case with    
those who criticize  his                
work1--especially those who would show  
their superiority by  detecting faults1 
and who frequently condemn the painter  
simply for  not expressing what he never
 aimed at4 ,as to some1 they are never  
content if they do not find beauty1     
whatever the subject1 though  it may    
neutralize the character1 if not render 
it ridiculous4 ,were  ,raffaelle1 who   
seldom sought the purely beautiful1 to  
be judged by  the want of it1 he would  
fall below ,guido4 ,but his object was  
much  higher1--in the intellect and the 
affections2 it was the human being  in  
his endless inflections of thought and  
passion1 in which there is  little      
probability he will ever be approached4 

,yet false criticism has  been as       
prodigal to him in the ascription of    
beauty1 as parsimonious  and unjust to  
many others4    ,in conclusion1 may     
there not be1 in the difficulty we have 
thus  endeavoured to solve1 a probable  
significance of the responsible1 as     
well as distinct1 position which the    
,human being holds in the world of      
life8 ,are there no shadowings1 in that 
reciprocal influence between  soul and  
soul1 of some mysterious chain which    
links together the human  family in its 
two extremes1 giving to the very lowest 
an indefeasible  claim on the highest1  
so that we cannot be independent if we  
would1  or indifferent even to the very 
meanest1 without violation of an        
imperative law of our nature8 ,and does 
it not at least hint  of duties and     
affections towards the most deformed in 
body1 the most  depraved in mind1--of   
interminable consequences8 ,if man were 
a mere  animal1 though the highest      
animal1 could these inscrutable         

influences  affect us as they do8 ,would
 not the animal appetites be our true   
and  sole end8 ,what even would ,beauty 
be to the sated appetite8 ,if it did    
not1 as in the last instance1 of the    
brutal husband1 become an object  of    
scorn1--which it could not be1 from the 
necessary absence of moral              
obliquity1--would it be better than a   
picked bone to a gorged dog8  ,least of 
all could it resemble the visible sign  
of that pure idea1 in  which so many    
lofty minds have recognized the type of 
a far higher  love than that of earth1  
which the soul shall know1 when1 in a   
better  world1 she shall realize the    
ultimate reunion of ,beauty with the    
coternal forms of ,truth and ,holiness4 
,we will now apply the characteristic   
assumed to the second leading  ,idea1   
namely1 to ,truth4 ,in the first place1 
we take it for granted1  that no one    
will deny to the perception of truth    
some positive  pleasure2 no one1 at     
least1 who is not at the same time      

prepared to  contradict the general     
sense of mankind1 nay1 we will add1     
their  universal experience4 ,the moment
 we begin to think1 we begin to         
acquire1 whether it be in trifles or    
otherwise1 some kind of  knowledge2 and 
of two things presented to our notice1  
supposing one to  be true and the other 
false1 no one ever knowingly1 and for   
its own  sake1 chooses the false3       
whatever he may do in after life1 for   
some  selfish purpose1 he cannot do so  
in childhood1 where there is no such    
motive1 without violence to his nature4 
,and here we are supposing the          
understanding1 with its triumphant pride
 and subtilty1 out of the  question1 and
 the child making his choice under the  
spontaneous sense  of the true and the  
false4 ,for1 were it otherwise1 and the 
choice  indifferent1 what possible      
foundation for the commonest acts of    
life1  even as it respects himself1     
would there be to him who should sow    
with  lies the very soil of his growing 

nature4 ,it is time enough in manhood   
to begin to lie to one's self2 but a    
self-lying youth can have no  proper    
self to rest on1 at any period4 ,so that
 the greatest liar1 even  ,ferdinand    
,mendez ,pinto1 must have loved the     
truth1--at least at one  time of his    
life4 ,we say loved2 for a voluntary    
choice implies  of necessity some degree
 of pleasure in the choosing1 however   
faint  the emotion or insignificant the 
object4 ,it is1 therefore1 caeteris     
paribus1 not only necessary1 but        
natural1 to find pleasure in  truth4    
,now the question is1 whether the       
pleasurable emotion1 which is1 so  to   
speak1 the indigenous growth of ,truth1 
can in any case be free of  self1 or    
some personal gratification4 ,to this1  
we apprehend1 there  will be no lack of 
answer4 ,nay1 the answer has already    
been given from  the dark antiquity of  
ages1 that even for her own exceeding   
loveliness  has ,truth been canonized4  
,if there was any thing of self in the  

,eureka of ,pythagoras1 there was not in
 the acclamations of  his country who   
rejoiced with him4 ,but we may doubt the
 feeling1 if  applied to him4 ,if wealth
 or fame has sometimes followed in the  
track  of ,genius1 it has followed as an
 accident1 but never preceded1 as the   
efficient conductor to any great        
discovery4 ,for what is ,genius but the 
prophetic revealer of the unseen ,true1 
that can neither be purchased  nor      
bribed into light8 ,if it come1 then1 at
 all1 it must needs be  evoked by a     
kindred love as pure as itself4 ,shall  
we appeal to the  artist8 ,if he deserve
 the name1 he will disdain the          
imputation that  either wealth or fame  
has ever aided at the birth of his ideal
  offspring3 it was ,truth that smiled  
upon him1 that made light his  travail1 
that blessed their birth1 and1 by her   
fond recognition1  imparted to his      
breast her own most pure1 unimpassioned 
emotion4 ,but1  whatever mixed feeling1 
through the infirmity of the agent1 may 

have  influenced the artist1 whether    
poet or painter1 there can be but one   
feeling in the reader or spectator4     
,indeed1 so imperishable is this        
property of ,truth1 that it seems to    
lose nothing of its power1 even when    
causing itself to be reflected  from    
things that in themselves have1 properly
 speaking1 no truth4 ,of  this we have  
abundant examples in some of the ,dutch 
pictures1 where  the principal object is
 simply a dish of oysters or a pickled  
herring4  ,we remember a picture of this
 kind1 consisting solely of these very  
objects1 from which we experienced a    
pleasure almost exquisite4  ,and we     
would here remark1 that the appetite    
then was in no way  concerned4 ,the     
pleasure1 therefore1 must have been from
 the imitated  truth4 ,it is certainly a
 curious question why this should be1   
while  the things themselves1 that is1  
the actual objects1 should produce no   
such effect4 ,and it seems to be        
because1 in the latter case1 there was  

no truth involved4 ,the real oysters1   
c41 were indeed so far true as  they    
were actual objects1 but they did not   
contain a truth in  relation to any     
thing4 ,whereas1 in the pictured        
oysters1  their relation to the actual  
was shown and verified in the mutual    
resemblance4    ,if this be true1 as we 
doubt not1 we have at least one         
evidence1 where  it might not be looked 
for1 that there is that in ,truth which 
is  satisfying of itself4 ,but a        
stronger testimony may still be found   
where1 from all  priori reasoning1 we   
might expect1 if not  positive pain1 at 
least no pleasure2 and that is1 where we
 find it  united with human suffering1  
as in the deep scenes of tragedy4 ,now  
it  cannot be doubted1 that some of our 
most refined pleasures are often        
derived from this source1 and from      
scenes that in nature we could  not look
 upon4 ,and why is this1 but for the    
reason assigned in the  preceding       
instance of a still-life picture8 the   

only difference being1  that the latter 
is addressed to the senses1 and the     
former to the  heart and intellect3     
which difference1 however1 well accounts
 for  their vast disparity of effect4   
,but may not these tragic pleasures     
have their source in sympathy alone8 ,we
 answer1 ,no4 ,for who ever felt  it in 
watching the progress of actual villany 
or the betrayal of  innocence1 or in    
being an eyewitness of murder8 ,now1    
though we revolt  at these and the like 
atrocities in actual life1 it would be  
both new  and false to assert that they 
have no attraction in ,art4    ,nor do  
we believe that this acknowledged       
interest can well be traced  to any     
other source than the one assumed2      
namely1 to the truth  of relation4 ,and 
in this capacity does ,truth stand to   
the  ,imagination1 which is the proper  
medium through which the artist1        
whether poet or painter1 projects his   
scenes4    ,the seat of interest here1  
then1 being in the imagination1 it  is  

precisely on that account1 and because  
it cannot be brought home to  self1 that
 the pleasure ensues2 which is plainly1 
therefore1 derived  from its            
verisimilitude to the actual1 and1      
though together with its  appropriate   
excitement1 yet without its imperative  
condition1 namely1  its call of life on 
the living affections4    ,the proper   
word here is interest1 not sympathy1 for
 sympathy  with actual suffering1 be the
 object good or bad1 is in its nature   
painful2 an obvious reason why so few in
 the more prosaic world have  the virtue
 to seek it4    ,but is it not the      
business of the artist to touch the     
heart8  ,true1--and it is his high      
privilege1 as its liege-lord1 to sound  
its  very depths2 nay1 from its lowest  
deep to touch alike its loftiest        
breathing pinnacle4 ,yet he may not even
 approach it1 except through  the       
transforming atmosphere of the          
imagination1 where alone the  saddest   
notes of woe1 even the appalling shriek 

of despair1 are  softened1 as it were1  
by the tempering dews of this visionary 
region1  ere they fall upon the heart4  
,else how could we stand the smothered  
moan of ,desdemona1 or the fiendish     
adjuration of ,lady ,macbeth1--more     
frightful even than the after-deed of   
her husband1--or look upon the  agony of
 the wretched ,judas1 in the terrible   
picture of ,rembrandt1  when he returns 
the purchase of blood to the            
impenetrable ,sanhedrim8  ,ay1 how could
 we ever stand these but for that ideal 
panoply through  which we feel only     
their modified vibrations8    ,let the  
imitation1 or rather copy1 be so close  
as to trench on  deception1 the effect  
will be far different2 for1 the         
condition  of relation being thus       
virtually lost1 the copy becomes as  the
 original1--circumscribed by its own    
qualities1 repulsive or  attractive1 as 
the case may be4 ,i remember a striking 
instance of this  in a celebrated       
actress1 whose copies of actual         

suffering were so  painfully accurate1  
that ,i was forced to turn away from the
 scene1  unable to endure it2 her scream
 of agony in ,belvidera seemed to ring  
in my ears for hours after4 ,not so was 
it with the great ,mrs4 ,siddons1  who  
moved not a step but in a poetic        
atmosphere1 through which the  fiercest 
passions seemed rather to loom like     
distant mountains  when first descried  
at sea1--massive and solid1 yet resting 
on air4    ,it would appear1 then1 that 
there is something in truth1 though but 
seen in the dim shadow of relation1 that
 enforces interest1--and1 so  it be     
without pain1 at least some degree of   
pleasure2 which1 however  slight1 is not
 unimportant1 as presenting an          
impassable barrier to the  mere animal4 
,we must not1 however1 be understood as 
claiming for this  ,relative ,truth the 
power of exciting a pleasurable interest
 in  all possible cases2 there are      
exceptions1 as in the horrible1 the     
loathsome1 c41 which under no condition 

can be otherwise than  revolting4 ,it is
 enough for our purpose1 to have shown  
that its effect  is in most cases       
similar to that we have ascribed to     
,truth absolute4    ,but objections are 
the natural adversaries of every        
adventurer3 there  is one in our path   
which we soon descried at our first     
setting  out4 ,and we find it especially
 opposed to the assertion respecting    
children2 namely1 that between two      
things1 where there is no personal      
advantage to bias the decision1 they    
will always choose that which  seems to 
them true1 rather than the other which  
appears false4 ,to  this is opposed the 
notorious fact of the remarkable        
propensity which  children have to      
lying4 ,this is readily admitted2 but it
 does not meet  us1 unless it can be    
shown that they have not in the act of  
lying an  eye to its reward1--setting   
aside any outward advantage1--in  the   
shape of self-complacent thought at     
their superior wit or  ingenuity4 ,now  

it is equally notorious1 that such      
secret triumph will  often betray itself
 by a smile1 or wink1 or some other sign
 from  the chuckling urchin1 which      
proves any thing but that the lie was   
gratuitous4 ,no1 not even a child can   
love a lie purely for its own  sake2 he 
would else love it in another1 which is 
against fact4 ,indeed1  so far from it1 
that1 long before he can have had any   
notion of what  is meant by honor1 the  
word liar becomes one of his first and  
most opprobrious terms of reproach4     
,look at any child's face when he  tells
 his companion he lies4 ,we ask no more 
than that most logical  expression2 and1
 if it speak not of a natural abhorrence
 only to be  overcome by self-interest1 
there is no trust in any thing4 ,no4 ,we
  cannot believe that man or child1     
however depraved1 could tell  an        
unproductive1 gratuitous lie4    ,of the
 last and highest source of our         
pleasurable emotions we need say        
little2 since no one will question that1

 if sought at all1 it can  only be for  
its own sake4 ,but it does not become   
us--at least in this  place--to enter on
 the subject of ,holiness2 of that      
angelic state1  whose only manifestation
 is in the perfect unison with the      
,divine  ,will4 ,we may1 however1       
consider it in the next degree1 as it is
 known1  and as we believe often        
realized1 among men3 we mean ,goodness4 
,we presume it is superfluous to define 
a good act2 for every one  knows1 or    
ought to know1 that no act is good in   
its true sense1 which  has any1 the     
least1 reference to the agent's self4   
,nor is it necessary  to adduce         
examples2 our object being rather to    
show that the  recognition of           
goodness--and we beg that the word be   
especially  noted--must result1 of      
necessity1 in such an emotion as shall  
partake  of its own character1 that is1 
be entirely devoid of self-interest4    
,this will no doubt appear to many a    
startling position4 ,but let it be      

observed1 that we have not said it will 
always be recognized4  ,there are many  
reasons why it should not be1 and is    
not4 ,we all know  how easy it is to    
turn away from what gives us no         
pleasure4 ,a long  course of vice1      
together with the consciousness that    
goodness has  departed from ourselves1  
may make it painful to look upon it4    
,nay1  the contemplation of it may      
become1 on this account1 so painful as  
to  amount to agony4 ,but that ,goodness
 can be hated for its own sake we do    
not believe1 except by a devil1 or some 
irredeemable incarnation of  evil1 if   
such there be on this side the grave4   
,but it is objected1  that bad men have 
sometimes a pleasure in ,evil from which
 they neither  derive nor hope for any  
personal advantage1 that is1 simply     
because  it is evil4 ,but we deny the   
fact4 ,we deny that an unmixed          
pleasure1 which is purely abstracted    
from all reference to self1 is in  the  
power of ,evil4 ,should any man assert  

this even of himself1 he is  not to be  
believed2 he lies to his own heart1--and
 this he may do  without being conscious
 of it4 ,but how can this be8 ,nothing  
more  easy3 by a simple dislocation of  
words2 by the aid of that false         
nomenclature which began with the first 
,fratricide1 and has  continued to      
accumulate through successive ages1 till
 it reached  its consummation1 for every
 possible sin1 in the ,french           
,revolution4  ,indeed1 there are few    
things more easy2 it is only to transfer
 to the  evil the name of its opposite4 
,some of us1 perhaps1 may have witnessed
  the savage exultation of some hardened
 wretch1 when the accidental  spectator 
of an atrocious act4 ,but is such       
exultation pleasure8 ,is it  at all akin
 to what is recognized as pleasure even 
by this hardened  wretch8 ,yet so he may
 call it4 ,but should we1 could we look 
into his  heart8 ,should we not rather  
pause for a time1 from mere ignorance of
  the true vernacular of sin4 ,what he  

feels may thus be a mystery to all  but 
the reprobate2 but it is not pleasure   
either in the deed or the  doer3 for1 as
 the law of ,good is ,harmony1 so is    
,discord that of ,evil2  and as sympathy
 to ,harmony1 so is revulsion to        
,discord4 ,and where is  hatred deepest 
and deadliest8 ,among the wicked4 ,yet  
they often hate  the good4 ,true3 but   
not goodness1 not the good man's        
virtues2 these  they envy1 and hate him 
for possessing them4 ,but more commonly 
the  object of dislike is first stripped
 of his virtues by detraction2 the      
detractor then supplies their place by  
the needful vices1--perhaps  with his   
own2 then1 indeed1 he is ripe for       
hatred4 ,when a sinful act  is made     
personal1 it is another affair2 it then 
becomes a part  of the man2 and he may  
then worship it with the idolatry of  a 
devil4 ,but there is a vast gulf between
 his own idol and that of  another4     
,to prevent misapprehension1 we would   
here observe1 that we do not  affirm of 

either ,good or ,evil any irresistible  
power of enforcing  love or exciting    
abhorrence1 having evidence to the      
contrary in  the multitudes about us2   
all we affirm is1 that1 when            
contemplated  abstractly1 they cannot be
 viewed otherwise4 ,nor is the fact of  
their inefficiency in many cases        
difficult of solution1 when it is       
remembered that the very condition to   
their true effect is  the complete      
absence of self1 that they must clearly 
be viewed ab  extra2 a hard1 not to say 
impracticable1 condition to the very    
depraved2 for it may well be doubted if 
to such minds any act or  object having 
a moral nature can be presented without 
some personal  relation4 ,it is not     
therefore surprising1 that1 where the   
condition is  so precluded1 there should
 be1 not only no proper response to the 
law of ,good or ,evil1 but such frequent
 misapprehension of their true          
character4 ,were it possible to see with
 the eyes of others1 this might  not so 

often occur2 for it need not be         
remarked1 that few things1 if  any1 ever
 retain their proper forms in the       
atmosphere of self-love2  a fact that   
will account for many obliquities       
besides the one in  question4 ,to this  
we may add1 that the existence of a     
compulsory power  in either ,good or    
,evil could not1 in respect to man1     
consist with his  free agency1--without 
which there could be no conscience2 nor 
does it  follow1 that1 because men1 with
 the free power of choice1 yet so often 
choose wrong1 there is any natural      
indistinctness in the absolute          
character of ,evil1 which1 as before    
hinted1 is sufficiently apparent  to    
them when referring to others2 in such  
cases the obliquitous choice  only      
shows1 that1 with the full force of     
right perception1 their  interposing    
passions or interests have also the     
power of giving their  own color to     
every object having the least relation  
to themselves4    ,admitting this       

personal modification1 we may then      
safely repeat our  position1--that to   
hate ,good or to love ,evil1 solely for 
their own  sakes1 is only possible with 
the irredeemably wicked1 in other words1
  with devils4    ,we now proceed to the
 latter clause of our general           
proposition4 ,and here  it may be asked1
 on what ground we assume one intuitive 
universal  ,principle as the true source
 of all those emotions which have just  
been  discussed4 ,to this we reply1 ,on 
the ground of their common agreement4   
,as  we shall here use the words effect 
and emotion as convertible terms1  we   
wish it to be understood1 that1 when we 
apply the epithet common or  same to    
effect1 we do so only in relation to    
kind1 and for the  sake of brevity1     
instead of saying the same class of     
effects2 implying  also in the word kind
 the existence of many degrees1 but no  
other  difference4 ,for instance1 if a  
beautiful flower and a noble act shall  
be  found to excite a kindred emotion1  

however slight from the one or deep     
from the other1 they come in effect     
under the same category4 ,and this we   
are forced to admit1 however            
heterogeneous1 since a common ground is 
necessarily predicated of a common      
result4 ,how else1 for instance1 can  we
 account for a scene in nature1 a bird1 
an animal1 a human form1  affecting us  
each in a similar way8 ,there is        
certainly no similitude in  the objects 
that compose a landscape1 and the form  
of an animal and man2  they have no     
resemblance either in shape1 or texture1
 or color1 in  roughness1 smoothness1 or
 any other known quality2 while their   
several  effects are so near akin1 that 
we do not stop to measure even the wide 
degrees by which they are marked1 but   
class them in a breath by some  common  
term4 ,it is very plain that this       
singular property of  assimilating to   
one what is so widely unlike cannot     
proceed from any  similar conformation1 
or quality1 or attribute of mere being1 

that is1  of any thing essential to     
distinctive existence4 ,there must      
needs1 then1  be some common ground for 
their common effect4 ,for if they agree 
not in  themselves one with the other1  
it follows of necessity that the ground 
of their agreement must be in relation  
to something within our own  minds1     
since only there is this common effect  
known as a fact4    ,we are now brought 
to the important question1 ,where and   
what is this reconciling ground8        
,certainly not in sensation1  for that  
could only reflect their distinctive    
differences4 ,neither can  it be in the 
reflective faculties1 since the effect  
in question1 being  co-instantaneous1 is
 wholly independent of any process of   
reasoning2  for we do not feel it       
because we understand1 but only because 
we are  conscious of its presence4 ,nay1
 it is because we neither do nor can    
understand it1 being therefore a matter 
aloof from all the powers of  reasoning1
 that its character is such as has been 

asserted1 and1 as  such1 universal4     
,where1 then1 shall we search for this  
mysterious ground but in the  mind1     
since only there1 as before observed1 is
 this common effect  known as a fact8   
and where in the mind but in some       
inherent ,principle1  which is both     
intuitive and universal1 since1 in a    
greater or less  degree1 all men feel it
 without knowing why8    ,but since an  
inward ,principle can1 of necessity1    
have only a potential  existence1 until 
called into action by some outward      
object1 it is also  clear that any      
similar effect1 which shall then be     
recognized through  it1 from any number 
of differing and distinct objects1 can  
only arise  from some mutual relation   
between a something in the objects  and 
in the ,principle supposed1 as their    
joint result and proper  product4       
,and1 since it would appear that we     
cannot avoid the admission of  some such
 ,principle1 having a reciprocal        
relation to certain outward  objects1 to

 account for these kindred emotions from
 so many distinct  and heterogeneous    
sources1 it remains only that we give it
 a name2  which has already been        
anticipated in the term ,harmony4       
,the next question here is1 ,in what    
consists this peculiar relation8 ,we    
have seen that it cannot be in any thing
 that is essential to any  condition of 
mere being or existence2 it must        
therefore consist in some               
undiscoverable condition indifferently  
applicable to the ,physical1            
,intellectual1 and ,moral1 yet only     
applicable in each to certain kinds4    
,and this is all that we do or can know 
of it4 ,but of this we  may be as       
certain as that we live and breathe4    
,it is true that1 for particular        
purposes1 we may analyze certain        
combinations of sounds and colors and   
forms1 so as to ascertain their         
relative quantities or collocation2 and 
these facts 7of which we shall          
hereafter have occasion to speak7 may be

 of importance both in ,art and         
,science4 ,still1 when thus obtained1   
they will be no more than mere  facts1  
on which we can predicate nothing but   
that1 when they are  imitated1--that is1
 when similar combinations of           
quantities1 c41 are  repeated in a work 
of art1--they will produce the same     
effect4 ,but  why they should is a      
mystery which the reflective faculties  
do  not solve2 and never can1 because it
 refers to a living ,power that is      
above the understanding4 ,in the human  
figure1 for instance1 we can  give no   
reason why eight heads to the stature   
please us better than  six1 or why three
 or twelve heads seem to us monstrous4  
,if we say1 in  the latter case1 because
 the head of the one is too small and   
of the other too large1 we give no      
reason2 we only state the  fact of their
 disagreeable effect on us4 ,and1 if we 
make the  proportion of eight heads our 
rule1 it is because of the fact of its  
being more pleasing to us than any      

other2 and1 from the same feeling1  we  
prefer those statures which approach it 
the nearest4 ,suppose we  analyze a     
certain combination of sounds and       
colors1 so as to ascertain  the exact   
relative quantities of the one and the  
collocation of the  other1 and then     
compare them4 ,what possible resemblance
 can the  understanding perceive between
 these sounds and colors8 ,and yet a    
something within us responds to both in 
a similar emotion4 ,and so with  a      
thousand things1 nay1 with myriads of   
objects that have no other  affinity but
 with that mysterious harmony which     
began with our being1  which slept with 
our infancy1 and which their presence   
only seems to  have awakened4 ,if we    
cannot go back to our own childhood1 we 
may see its illustration in those about 
us who are now emerging into  that      
unsophisticated state4 ,look at them in 
the fields1 among the  birds and        
flowers2 their happy faces speak the    
harmony within them3  the divine        

instrument1 which these have touched1   
gives them a joy  which1 perhaps1 only  
childhood in its first fresh            
consciousness can  know4 ,yet what do   
they understand of musical quantities1  
or of the  theory of colors8    ,and so 
with respect to ,truth and ,goodness2   
whose prexisting ,ideas1  being in the  
living constituents of an immortal      
spirit1 need but the  slightest breath  
of some outward condition of the true   
and good1--a  simple problem1 or a kind 
act1--to awake them1 as it were1 from   
their  unconscious sleep1 and start them
 for eternity4    ,we may venture to    
assert1 that no philosopher1 however    
ingenious1  could communicate to a child
 the abstract idea of ,right1 had the   
latter nothing beyond or above the      
understanding4 ,he might1 indeed1 be    
taught1 like the inferior animals1--a   
dog1 for instance1--that1 if he  took   
certain forbidden things1 he would be   
punished1 and thus do  right through    
fear4 ,still he would desire the        

forbidden thing1  though belonging to   
another2 nor could he conceive why he   
should not  appropriate to himself1 and 
thus allay his appetite1 what was held  
by  another1 could he do so undetected2 
nor attain to any higher notion of      
right than that of the strongest4 ,but  
the child has something higher  than the
 mere power of apprehending             
consequences4 ,the simplest  exposition1
 whether of right or wrong1 even by an  
ignorant nurse1 is  instantly responded 
to by something within him1 which1 thus 
awakened1 becomes to him a living voice 
ever after2 and the good and  the true  
must thenceforth answer its call1 even  
though succeeding  years would fain     
overlay them with the suffocating crowds
 of evil and  falsehood4    ,we do not  
say that these eternal ,ideas of        
,beauty1 ,truth1 and ,goodness  will1   
strictly speaking1 always act4 ,though  
indestructible1 they may  be banished   
for a time by the perverted ,will1 and  
mockeries of the  brain1 like the       

fume-born phantoms from the witches'    
caldron in  ,macbeth1 take their places1
 and assume their functions4 ,we have   
examples of this in every age1 and      
perhaps in none more startling than  in 
the present4 ,but we mean only that they
 cannot be forgotten3  nay1 they are    
but1 too often recalled with unwelcome  
distinctness4  ,could we read the annals
 which must needs be scored on every    
heart1--could we look upon those of the 
aged reprobate1--who will  doubt that   
their darkest passages are those made   
visible by the  distant gleams from     
these angelic ,forms1 that1 like the    
,three which  stood before the tent of  
,abraham1 once looked upon his youth8   
,and we doubt not that the truest       
witness to the common source of these   
inborn ,ideas would readily be          
acknowledged by all1 could they return  
to it now with their matured power of   
introspection1 which is1 at  least1 one 
of the few advantages of advancing      
years4 ,but1 though  we cannot bring    

back youth1 we may still recover much of
 its purer  revelations of our nature   
from what has been left in the memory4  
,from  the dim present1 then1 we would  
appeal to that fresher time1 ere  the   
young spirit had shrunk from the        
overbearing pride of the  understanding1
 and confidently ask1 if the emotions we
 then felt from  the ,beautiful1 the    
,true1 and the ,good1 did not seem in   
some way to  refer to a common origin4  
,and we would also ask1 if it was then  
frequent that the influence from one was
 singly felt1--if it  did not rather    
bring with it1 however remotely1 a sense
 of something1  though widely differing1
 yet still akin to it4 ,when we have    
basked in  the beauty of a summer       
sunset1 was there nothing in the sky    
that spoke  to the soul of ,truth and   
,goodness8 ,and when the opening        
intellect  first received the truth of  
the great law of gravitation1 or felt   
itself mounting through the profound of 
space1 to travel with the  planets in   

their unerring rounds1 did never then   
the kindred ,ideas of  ,goodness and    
,beauty chime in1 as it were1 with the  
fabled music1--not  fabled to the       
soul1--which led you on like one        
entranced8    ,and again1 when1 in the  
passive quiet of your moral nature1 so  
predisposed  in youth to all things     
genial1 you have looked abroad on this  
marvellous1  ever teeming ,earth1--ever 
teeming alike for mind and body1--and   
have felt  upon you flow1 as from ten   
thousand springs of ,goodness1 ,truth1  
and  ,beauty1 ten thousand streams of   
innocent enjoyment2 did you not then    
almost hear them shout in confluence1   
and almost see them gushing  upwards1 as
 if they would prove their unity1 in one
 harmonious fountain8    ,but1 though   
the preceding be admitted as all true in
 respect to  certain gifted individuals1
 it may yet be denied that it is equally
  true with respect to all1 in other    
words1 that the ,principle assumed  is  
an inherent constituent of the human    

being4 ,to this we reply1 that          
universality does not necessarily imply 
equality4    ,the universality of a     
,principle does not imply everywhere    
equal  energy or activity1 or even the  
same mode of manifestation1 any more    
than do the essential ,faculties of the 
,understanding4 ,of this we have  an    
analogous illustration in the faculty of
 ,memory2 which is almost  indefinitely 
differenced in different men1 both in   
degree and mode4 ,in  some1 its greatest
 power is shown in the retention of     
thoughts1 but  not of words1 that is1   
not of the original words in which they 
were  presented4 ,others possess it in a
 very remarkable degree as to forms1    
places1 c41 and but imperfectly for     
other things2 others1 again1  never     
forget names1 dates1 or figures1 yet    
cannot repeat a  conversation the day   
after it took place2 while some few have
 the  doubtful happiness of forgetting  
nothing4 ,we might go on with a long    
list of the various modes and degrees in

 which this faculty1 so  essential to   
the human being1 is everywhere          
manifested4 ,but this is  sufficient for
 our purpose4 ,in like manner is the    
,principle of ,harmony  manifested2 in  
one person as it relates to ,form1 in   
another to ,sound2  so1 too1 may it vary
 as to the degrees of truth and         
goodness4 ,we say  degrees2 for we may  
well doubt whether1 even in the faculty 
of memory1  its apparent absence as to  
any one essential object is any thing   
more  than a feeble degree of activity3 
and the doubt is strengthened by the    
fact1 that in many seemingly hopeless   
cases it has been actually1 as  it were1
 brought into birth4 ,and we are still  
indisposed to admit its  entire absence 
in any one particular for which it was  
bestowed on man4  ,an imperfect         
developement1 especially as relating to 
the intellectual  and moral1 we know to 
depend1 in no slight measure1 on the    
will  of the subject4 ,nay1 7with the   
exception of idiots17 it may safely be  

affirmed1 that no individual ever       
existed who could not perceive the      
difference between what is true and     
false1 and right and wrong4 ,we  here1  
of course1 except those who have so     
ingeniously unmade  themselves1 in order
 to reconstruct their humanity after a  
better  fashion4 ,as to the why of these
 differences1 we know nothing2  it is   
one of those unfathomable mysteries     
which to the finite mind  must ever be  
hidden4    ,though it has been our      
purpose1 throughout this discourse1 to  
direct  our inquiries mainly to the     
essential ,elements of the subject1 it  
may  not be amiss here to take a brief  
notice of their collateral product  in  
those mixed modes from which we derive  
so large a portion of our  mental       
gratification3 we allude to the various 
combinations of the  several ,ideas1    
which have just been examined1 with each
 other as well  as with their opposites4
 ,to this prolific source may be traced 
much  of that many-colored interest     

which we take in their various forms as 
presented by the imagination1--in every 
thing1 indeed1 which is true1  or even  
partially true1 to the great ,principle 
of ,harmony1 both in  nature and in art4
 ,it is to these mixed modes more       
especially1 that we  owe all that       
mysterious interest which gives the     
illusion of life to a  work of fiction1 
and fills us with delight or melts with 
woe1 whether  in the happiness or the   
suffering of some imagined being1       
uniting  goodness with beauty1 or virtue
 with plainness1 or uncommon purity and 
intellect even with deformity2 for even 
that may be so overpowered in  the      
prominent harmony of superior intellect 
and moral worth1 as to be  virtually    
neutralized1 at least1 to become        
unobtrusive as a discordant  force4     
,besides1 it cannot be expected that    
complete harmony is  ever to be realized
 in our imperfect state2 we should else1
 perhaps1  with such expectation1 have  
no pleasures of the kind we speak of3   

nor is this necessary1 the imagination  
being always ready to supply            
deficiencies1 whenever the approximation
 is sufficiently near to  call it forth4
 ,nay1 if the interest felt be nothing  
more than mere  curiosity1 we still     
refer to this presiding ,principle2     
which is no  less essential to a simple 
combination of events1 than to the      
higher  demands of ,form or ,character4 
,but its presence must be felt1 however 
slightly4 ,of this we have the evidence 
in many cases1 and1 perhaps1  most      
conclusive where the partial harmony is 
felt to verge on a  powerful discord2 or
 where the effort to unite them produces
 that  singular alternation of what is  
both revolting and pleasing3 as in the  
startling union of evil passions with   
some noble quality1 or with a  master   
intellect4 ,and here we have a solution 
of that paradoxical  feeling of interest
 and abhorrence1 which we experience in 
such a  character as ,king ,richard4    
,and may it not be that we are permitted

 this interest for a deeper  purpose    
than we are wont to suppose2 because    
,sin is best seen in the  light of      
,virtue1--and then most fearfully when  
she holds the torch to  herself8 ,be    
this as it may1 with pure1              
unintellectual1 brutal evil  it is very 
different4 ,we cannot look upon it      
undismayed3 we take no  interest in it1 
nor can we4 ,in ,richard there is scarce
 a glimmer of  his better nature2 yet we
 do not despise him1 for his intellect  
and  courage command our respect4 ,but  
the fiend ,iago1--who ever followed  him
 through the weaving of his spider-like 
web1 without perpetual  recurrence to   
its venomous source1--his devilish      
heart8 ,even the  intellect he shows    
seems actually animalized1 and we       
shudder at its  subtlety1 as at the     
cunning of a reptile4 ,whatever interest
 may have  been imputed to him should be
 placed to the account of his hapless   
victim2 to the first striving with      
distrust of a generous nature2 to  the  

vague sense of misery1 then its gradual 
developement1 then the  final overthrow 
of absolute faith2 and1 last of all1 to 
the throes  of agony of the noble ,moor1
 as he writhes and gasps in his accursed
  toils4    ,to these mixed modes may be
 added another branch1 which we shall   
term the  class of ,imputed ,attributes4
 ,in this class are concerned all those 
natural  objects with which we connect  
7not by individual association1 but by a
  general law of the mind7 certain moral
 or intellectual attributes2 which  are 
not1 indeed1 supposed to exist in the   
objects themselves1 but which1  by some 
unknown affinity1 they awaken or        
occasion in us1 and which we1 in  our   
turn1 impute to them4 ,however this be1 
there are multitudes of objects  in the 
inanimate world1 which we cannot        
contemplate without associating  with   
them many of the characteristics which  
we ascribe to the human being2  and the 
ideas so awakened we involuntarily      
express by the ascription of  such      

significant epithets as stately1        
majestic1 grand1 and so on4 ,it is  so  
with us1 when we call some tall forest  
stately1 or qualify as majestic  some   
broad and slowly-winding river1 or some 
vast1 yet unbroken waterfall1  or some  
solitary1 gigantic pine1 seeming to     
disdain the earth1 and to hold  of right
 its eternal communion with air2 or when
 to the smooth and  far-reaching expanse
 of our inland waters1 with their       
bordering and  receding mountains1 as   
they seem to march from the shores1 in  
the pomp of  their dark draperies of    
wood and mist1 we apply the terms grand 
and  magnificent3 and so onward to an   
endless succession of objects1          
imputing1 as it were1 our own nature1   
and lending our sympathies1 till the    
headlong rush of some mighty cataract   
suddenly thunders upon us4 ,but how  is 
it then8 ,in the twinkling of an eye1   
the outflowing sympathies ebb back  upon
 the heart2 the whole mind seems severed
 from earth1 and the awful  feeling to  

suspend the breath2--there is nothing   
human to which we can  liken it4 ,and   
here begins another kind of emotion1    
which we call ,sublime4    ,we are not  
aware that this particular class of     
objects has hitherto  been noticed1 at  
least as holding a distinct position4   
,and1 if we  may be allowed to supply   
the omission1 we should assign to it the
  intermediate place between the        
,beautiful and the ,sublime4 ,indeed1   
there seems to be no other station so   
peculiarly proper2 inasmuch as  they    
would thus form1 in a consecutive       
series1 a regular ascent from  the      
sensible material to the invisible      
spiritual3 hence naturally  uniting into
 one harmonious whole every possible    
emotion of our higher  nature4    ,in   
the preceding discussion1 we have       
considered the outward world  only in   
its immediate relation to ,man1 and the 
,human ,being as the  predetermined     
centre to which it was designed to      
converge4 ,as the  subject1 however1 of 

what are called the sublime emotions1 he
 holds a  different position2 for the   
centre here is not himself1 nor1 indeed1
  can he approach it within conceivable 
distance3 yet still he is drawn  to it1 
though baffled for ever4 ,now the       
question is1 ,where1 and  in what bias1 
is this mysterious attraction8 ,it must 
needs be in  something having a clear   
affinity with us1 or we could not feel  
it4  ,but the attraction is also both   
pure and pleasurable2 and it has just   
been shown1 that we have in ourselves   
but one principle by which  to recognize
 any corresponding emotion1--namely1 the
 principle of  ,harmony4 ,may we not    
then infer a similar ,principle without 
us1 an  ,infinite ,harmony1 to which our
 own is attracted8 and may we not       
further1--if we may so speak without    
irreverence1--suppose our own to  have  
emanated thence when man became a living
 soul8 ,and though this  relation may   
not be consciously acknowledged in every
 instance1 or  even in one1 by the mass 

of men1 does it therefore follow that it
 does  not exist8 ,how many things act  
upon us of which we have no knowledge8  
,if we find1 as in the case of the      
,beautiful1 the same1 or a similar1     
effect to follow from a great variety of
 objects which have no  resemblance or  
agreement with one another1 is it not a 
necessary  inference1 that for their    
common effect they must all refer to    
something without and distinct from     
themselves8 ,now in the case of  the    
,sublime1 the something referred to is  
not in man3 for the emotion  excited has
 an outward tendency2 the mind cannot   
contain it2 and the  effort to follow it
 towards its mysterious object1 if long 
continued1  becomes1 in the excess of   
interest1 positively painful4    ,could 
any finite object account for this8     
,but1 supposing the ,infinite1  we have 
an adequate cause4 ,if these emotions1  
then1 from whatever  object or          
circumstance1 be to prompt the mind     
beyond its prescribed  limits1 whether  

carrying it back to the primitive past1 
the  incomprehensible beginning1 or     
sending it into the future1 to  the     
unknown end1 the ever-present ,idea of  
the mighty ,author of  all these        
mysteries must still be implied1 though 
we think not of it4  ,it is this ,idea1 
or rather its influence1 whether we be  
conscious of  it or not1 which we hold  
to be the source of every sublime       
emotion4 ,to  make our meaning plainer1 
we should say1 that that which has the  
power  of possessing the mind1 to the   
exclusion1 for the time1 of all other   
thought1 and which presents no          
comprehensible sense of a whole1  though
 still impressing us with a full        
apprehension of such as a  reality1--in 
other words1 which cannot be            
circumscribed by the forms  of the      
understanding while it strains them to  
the utmost1--that we  should term a     
sublime object4 ,but whether this effect
 be occasioned  directly by the object  
itself1 or be indirectly suggested by   

its  relations to some other object1 its
 unknown cause1 it matters not2  since  
the apparent power of calling forth the 
emotion1 by whatever  means1 is1 quoad  
ourselves1 its sublime condition4       
,hence1 if a  minute insect1 an ant1 for
 instance1 through its marvellous       
instinct1  lift the mind of the amazed  
spectator to the still more inscrutable 
,creator1 it must possess1 as to him1   
the same power4 ,this is1  indeed1 an   
extreme case1 and may be objected to as 
depending on the  individual mind2 on a 
mind prepared by cultivation and        
previous  reflection for the effect in  
question4 ,but to this it may be        
replied1  that some degree of           
cultivation1 or1 more properly speaking1
 of  developement by the exercise of its
 reflective faculties1 is obviously     
essential ere the mind can attain to    
mature growth1--we might almost  say to 
its natural state1 since nothing can be 
said to have attained  its true nature  
until all its capacities are at least   

called into  birth4 ,no one1 for        
example1 would refer to the savages of  
,australia  for a true specimen of what 
was proper or natural to the human mind2
  we should rather seek it1 if such were
 the alternative1 in a civilized  child 
of five years old4 ,be this as it may1  
it will not be denied  that ignorance1  
brutality1 and many other deteriorating 
causes1 do  practically incapacitate    
thousands for even an approximation1 not
 only  to this1 but to many of the      
inferior emotions1 the character of     
which is purely mental4 ,and this1 we   
think1 is quite sufficient to           
neutralize the objection1 if not1       
indeed1 to justify the application  of  
the term to all cases where the         
immediate effect1 whether  directly or  
indirectly1 is such as has been         
described4 ,but1 to reduce  this to a   
common-sense view1 it is only           
saying1--what no one will  deny1--that a
 man of education and refinement has not
 only more1 but  higher1 pleasures of   

the mind than a mere clown4    ,but     
though the position here advanced must  
necessarily exclude many  objects which 
have hitherto1 though1 as we think1     
improperly1 been  classed with the      
sublime1 it will still leave enough1 and
 more than  enough1 for the utmost      
exercise of our limited powers2 inasmuch
 as1 in  addition to the multitude of   
objects in the material world1 not only 
the actions1 passions1 and thoughts of  
men1 but whatever concerns the  human   
being1 that in any way--by a hint       
merely--leads the mind1 though          
indirectly1 to the ,infinite            
attributes1--all come of right within   
the  ground assumed4    ,it will be     
borne in mind1 that the conscious       
presence of the ,infinite  ,idea is not 
only not insisted on1 but expressly     
admitted to be1 in  most cases1         
unthought of2 it is also admitted1 that 
a sublime effect is  often powerfully   
felt in many instances where this ,idea 
could not truly  be predicated of the   

apparent object4 ,in such cases1        
however1 some kind  of resemblance1 or1 
at least1 a seeming analogy to an       
infinite  attribute1 is nevertheless    
essential4 ,it must appear to us1 for   
the  time1 either limitless1 indefinite1
 or in some other way beyond the  grasp 
of the mind3 and1 whatever an object may
 seem to be1 it must  needs in effect be
 to us even that which it seems4 ,nor   
does this  transfer the emotion to a    
different source2 for the ,infinite     
,idea1 or  something analogous1 being   
thus imputed1 is in reality its true    
cause4    ,it is still the unattainable1
 the ever-stimulating1 yet              
ever-eluding1 in the character of the   
sublime object1 that  gives to it both  
its term and its effect4 ,and whence the
 conception of  this mysterious         
character1 but from its mysterious      
prototype1 the ,idea  of the ,infinite8 
,neither does it matter1 as we have     
said1 whether  actual or supposed2 for  
what the imagination cannot master will 

master  the imagination4 ,take1 for     
instance1 but a single passion1 and     
clothe it with this character2 in the   
same instant it becomes sublime4  ,so1  
too1 with a single thought4 ,in the     
,mosaic words so often quoted1  ,let    
there be light1 and there was light1 we 
have the sublime of  thought1 of mere   
naked thought2 but what could more awe  
the mind with  the power of ,god8 ,of   
like nature is the conjecture of        
,newton1 when he  imagined stars so     
distant from the sun that their coeval  
light has not  yet reached us4 ,let us  
endeavour for one moment to conceive of 
this2  does not the soul seem to dilate 
within us1 and the body to shrink  as to
 a grain of dust8 ,woe is me6 unclean1  
unclean6 said the holy  ,prophet1 when  
the ,infinite ,holiness stood before    
him4 ,could a more  terrible distance be
 measured1 than by these fearful words1 
between  ,god and man8    ,if it be     
objected to this view1 that many cases  
occur1 having the same  conditions with 

those assumed in our general            
proposition1 which are  yet exclusively 
painful1 unmitigated even by a transient
 moment of  pleasure1--in ,despair1 for 
instance1--as who can limit it8--to this
 we  reply1 that no emotion having its  
sole1 or circle of existence in  the    
individual mind itself1 can be to that  
mind other than a  subject4 ,a man in   
despair1 or under any mode of extreme   
suffering of like nature1 may1 indeed1  
if all interfering sympathy  have been  
removed by time or after-description1 be
 to another  a sublime object1--at least
 in one of those suggestive forms just  
noticed2 but not to himself4 ,the source
 of the sublime--as all  along          
implied--is essentially ab extra4 ,the  
human mind is not  its centre1 nor can  
it be realized except by a contemplative
 act4    ,besides1 as a mental          
pleasure1--indeed the highest known1--to
  be recognized as such1 it must needs  
be accompanied by the same  relative    
character by which is tested every other

 pleasure  coming under that            
denomination2 namely1 by the entire     
absence  of self1 that is1 by the same  
freedom from all personal  consideration
 which has been shown to characterize   
the true effect of  the ,three leading  
,ideas already considered4 ,but if to   
this also it be  further objected1 that 
in certain particular cases1 as of      
personal danger1--from which the sublime
 emotion has often been                 
experienced1--some personal             
consideration must necessarily be       
involved1 as without a sense of security
 we could not enjoy it2 we  answer1     
that1 if it be meant only that the mind 
should be in such a  state as to enable 
us to receive an unembarrassed          
impression1 it seems  to us             
superfluous1--an obvious truism placed  
in opposition to an  absurd             
impossibility4 ,we needed not to be     
told1 that no pleasurable  emotion is   
likely to occur while we are unmanned by
 fear4 ,the same  might be said1 also1  

in respect to the ,beautiful3 for who   
was ever  alive to it under a paroxysm  
of terror1 or pain of any kind8 ,a      
terrified person is in any thing but a  
fit state for such emotion4 ,he  may    
indeed afterwards1 when his fear is     
passed off1 contemplate  the            
circumstance that occasioned it with a  
different feeling2 but the  object of   
his dismay is then projected1 as it     
were1 completely  from himself2 and he  
feels the sublimity in a contemplative  
state3  he can feel it in no other4 ,nor
 is that state incompatible with a      
consciousness of peril1 though it can   
never be with personal terror4  ,and1 if
 it is meant that we should have a      
positive1 present  conviction that we   
are in no danger1 this we must deny1 as 
we find it  contradicted in innumerable 
instances4 ,so far1 indeed1 is a sense  
of  security from being essential to the
 condition of a sublime emotion1  that  
the sense of danger1 on the contrary1 is
 one of its most exciting               

accompaniments4 ,there is a fascination 
in danger which some persons  neither   
can nor would resist2 which seems1 as it
 were1 to disenthral  them of self2--as 
if the mysterious ,infinite were        
actually drawing  them on by an         
invisible power4    ,was it mere        
scientific curiosity that cost the elder
 ,pliny his life8  ,might it not have   
been rather this sublime fascination8   
,but we have  repeated examples of it in
 our own time4 ,many who will read this 
may  have been in a storm at sea4 ,did  
they never feel its sublimity while     
they knew their danger8 ,we will answer 
for ourselves2 for we have been  in one1
 when the dismasted vessels that        
surrounded us permitted no  mistake as  
to our peril2 it was strongly felt1 but 
still stronger was  the sublime emotion 
in the awful scene4 ,the crater of      
,vesuvius is even  now1 perhaps for the 
thousandth time1 reflecting from its    
lake of fire  some ghastly face1 with   
indrawn breath and hair bristling1 bent1

 as by  fate1 over its sulphurous brink4
    ,let us turn to ,mont ,blanc1 that  
mighty pyramid of ice1 in whose shadow  
might repose all the tombs of the       
,pharaohs4 ,it rises before the         
traveller like the accumulating         
mausoleum of ,europe3 perhaps he looks  
upon it as his own before his natural   
time2 yet he cannot away from  it4 ,a   
terrible charm hurries him over         
frightful chasms1 whose blue  depths    
seem like those of the ocean2 he cuts   
his way up a polished  precipice1       
shining like steel1--as elusive to the  
touch2 he creeps  slowly and warily     
around and beneath huge cliffs of snow2 
now he looks  up1 and sees their brows  
fretted by the percolating waters like a
  ,gothic ceiling1 and he fears even to 
whisper1 lest an audible breath  should 
awaken the avalanche3 and thus he climbs
 and climbs1 till the  dizzy summit     
fills up his measure of fearful ecstasy4
    ,now1 though cases may occur where  
the emotion in question is attended     

with a sense of security1 as in the     
reading or hearing the description  of  
an earthquake1 such as that of #agfh in 
,lisbon1 while we are safely  housed and
 by a comfortable fire1 it does not     
therefore follow1 that  this            
consciousness of safety is its essential
 condition4 ,it is merely  an accidental
 circumstance4 ,it cannot1 therefore1   
apply1 either as a  rule or an          
objection4 ,besides1 even if supported  
by fact1 we might  well dismiss it on   
the ground of irrelevancy1 since a sense
 of  personal safety cannot be placed in
 opposition to and as inconsistent  with
 a disinterested or unselfish state2    
which is that claimed for  the emotion  
as its true condition4 ,if there be not1
 then1 a sounder  objection1 we may     
safely admit the characteristic in      
question2 for  the reception of which we
 have1 on the other hand1 the weight of 
experience1--at least negatively1 since1
 strictly speaking1 we cannot           
experience the absence of any thing4    

,but though1 according to our theory1   
there are many things now called        
sublime that would properly come under a
 different classification1 such  as many
 objects of ,art1 many sentiments1 and  
many actions1 which are  strictly human1
 as well in their end as in their       
origin2 it is not to  be inferred that  
the exclusion of any work of man is     
because of its  apparent origin1 but of 
its end1 the end only being the         
determining  point1 as referring to its 
,idea4 ,now1 if the ,idea referred to be
 of  the ,infinite1 which is out of his 
nature1 it cannot strictly be said  to  
originate with man1--that is1           
absolutely2 but it is rather1 as it     
were1 a reflected form of it from the   
,maker of his mind4 ,if we are led  to  
such an ,idea1 then1 by any work of     
imagination1 a poem1 a picture1 a       
statue1 or a building1 it is as truly   
sublime as any natural object4  ,this1  
it appears to us1 is the sole mystery1  
without which neither  sound1 nor color1

 nor form1 nor magnitude1 is a true     
correlative to the  unseen cause4 ,and  
here1 as with ,beauty1 though the test  
of that be  within us1 is the modus     
operandi equally baffling to the        
scrutiny of  the understanding4 ,we feel
 ourselves1 as it were1 lifted from the 
earth1  and look upon the outward       
objects that have so affected us1 yet   
learn  not how2 and the mystery deepens 
as we compare them with other objects   
from which have followed the same       
effects1 and find no resemblance4 ,for  
instance2 the roar of the ocean1 and the
 intricate unity of a ,gothic           
cathedral1 whose beginning and end are  
alike intangible1 while its  climbing   
tower seems visibly even to rise to the 
,idea which it strives  to              
embody1--these have nothing in          
common1--hardly two things could be     
named that are more unlike2 yet in      
relation to man they have but one  end3 
for who can hear the ocean when         
breathing in wrath1 and limit it in  his

 mind1 though he think not of ,him who  
gives it voice8 or ascend that  spire   
without feeling his faculties vanish1 as
 it were with its  vanishing point1 into
 the abyss of space8 ,if there be a     
difference in  the effect from these and
 other objects1 it is only in the       
intensity1  the degree of impetus given2
 as between that from the sudden        
explosion  of a volcano and from the    
slow and heavy movement of a rising     
thunder-cloud2 its character and its    
office are the same1--in its awful      
harmony to connect the created with its 
,infinite ,cause4    ,but let us compare
 this effect with that from ,beauty4    
,would the  ,parthenon1 for instance1   
with its beautiful forms1--made still   
more  beautiful under its native        
sky1--seeming almost endued with the    
breath  of life1 as if its conscious    
purple were a living suffusion brought  
forth in sympathy by the enamoured      
blushes of a ,grecian sunset2--would    
this beautiful object even then elevate 

the soul above its own roof8  ,no3 we   
should be filled with a pure            
delight1--but with no longing to  rise  
still higher4 ,it would satisfy us2     
which the sublime does not2  for the    
feeling is too vast to be circumscribed 
by human content4    ,on the            
supernatural it is needless to enlarge2 
for1 in whatever form  the beings of the
 invisible world are supposed to visit  
us1 they are  immediately connected in  
the mind with the unknown ,infinite2    
whether  the faith be in the heart or in
 the imagination2 whether they bubble   
up from the earth1 like the ,witches in 
,macbeth1 taking shape at will1  or     
self-dissolving into air1 and no less   
marvellous1 foreknowing  thoughts ere   
formed in man2 or like the ,ghost in    
,hamlet1 an  unsubstantial shadow1      
having the functions of life1 motion1   
will1  and speech2 a fearful mystery    
invests them with a spell not to be     
withstood2 the bewildered imagination   
follows like a child1 leaving  the      

finite world for one unknown1 till it   
aches in darkness1  trackless1 endless4 
,perhaps1 as being nearest in station to
 the unsearchable ,author of  all       
things1 the highest example of this     
would be found in the  ,angelic ,nature4
 ,if it be objected1 that the poets have
 not always so  represented it1 it rests
 with them to show cause why they have  
not4  ,milton1 no doubt1 could have     
assigned a sufficient reason in the     
time chosen for his poem1--that of the  
creation of the first man1  when his    
intercourse with the highest order of   
created beings was not  only essential  
to the plan of the poem1 but according  
with the express  will of the ,creator3 
hence1 he might have considered it no   
violation  of the then relation between 
man and angels to assign even the       
epithet affable to the archangel        
,raphael2 for man was then  sinless1 and
 in all points save knowledge a fit     
object of regard1 and  certainly a fit  
pupil to his heavenly instructor4 ,but1 

suppose the  poet1 throughout his work1 
7as in the process of his story he was  
forced to do near the end17--suppose he 
had chosen1 assuming the  philosopher1  
to assign to ,adam the altered relation 
of one of his  fallen posterity1 how    
could he have endured a holy spiritual  
presence8 ,to be consistent1 ,adam must 
have been dumb with awe1  incapable of  
holding converse such as is described4  
,between sinless  man and his sinful    
progeny1 the distance is immeasurable4  
,and so1 too1  must be the effect on the
 latter1 in such a presence2 and for    
this  conclusion we have the authority  
of ,scripture1 in the dismay of the     
soldiers at the ,saviour's sepulchre1 on
 which more directly4 ,if there  be no  
like effect attending the other angelic 
visits recorded in  ,scripture1 such as 
those to ,lot and ,abraham1 the reason  
is obvious in  the special mission to   
those individuals1 who were doubtless   
divinely prepared for their reception2  
for it is reasonable  to suppose the    

mission had else been useless4 ,but with
 the ,roman  soldiers1 where there was  
no such qualifying circumstance1 the    
case  was different2 indeed1 it was in  
striking contrast with that of the  two 
,marys1 who1 though struck with awe1 yet
 being led there1 as  witnesses1 by the 
,spirit1 were not so overpowered4       
,and here1 as the ,idea of ,angels is   
universally associated with every       
perfection of form1 may naturally occur 
the question so often                   
agitated1--namely1 whether ,beauty and  
,sublimity are1 under any               
circumstances1 compatible4 ,to us it    
seems of easy solution4 ,for we see  no 
reason why ,beauty1 as the condition of 
a subordinated object or  component     
part1 may not incidentally enter into   
the ,sublime1 as well  as a thousand    
other conditions of opposite characters1
 which pertain  to the multifarious     
assimilants that often form its other   
components4    ,when ,beauty is not made
 essential1 but enters as a mere        

contingent1 its admission or rejection  
is a matter of indifference4 ,in  an    
angel1 for instance1 beauty is the      
condition of his mere form2 but  the    
angel has also an intellectual and moral
 or spiritual nature1  which is         
essentially paramount3 the former being 
but the condition1 so  to speak1 of his 
visibility1 the latter1 his very        
life1--an ,essence  next to the         
inconceivable ,giver of life4    ,could 
we stand in the presence of one of these
 holy beings1 7if to  stand were        
possible17 what of the ,sublime in this 
lower world would so  shake us8 ,though 
his beauty were such as never mortal    
dreamed of1  it would be as             
nothing1--swallowed up as darkness1--in 
the awful1  spiritual brightness of the 
messenger of ,god4 ,even as the soldiers
  in ,scripture1 at the sepulchre of the
 ,saviour1 we should fall before        
him1--we should become1 like them1 as   
dead men4    ,but though ,milton does   
not unveil the face like lightning2 and 

though the angel ,raphael is made to    
hold converse with man1 and the  severe 
in youthful beauty gives even the       
individual impress to  ,zephon1 and     
,michael and ,abdiel are set apart in   
their prowess2 there  is not one he     
names that does not breathe of ,heaven1 
that is not  encompassed with the glory 
of the ,infinite4 ,and why the reader is
 not  overwhelmed in their supposed     
presence is because he is a beholder    
through ,adam1--through him also a      
listener2 but whenever he is  made1 by  
the poet's spell1 to forget ,adam1 and  
to see1 as it were in  his own person1  
the embattled hosts4444    ,if we dwell 
upon ,form alone1 though it should be of
 surpassing  beauty1 the idea would not 
rise above that of man1 for this is     
conceivable of man3 but the moment the  
angelic nature is touched1 we  have the 
higher ideas of supernal intelligence   
and perfect holiness1  to which all the 
charms and graces of mere form          
immediately  become subordinate1 and1   

though the beauty remain1 its agency is 
comparatively negative under the        
overpowering transcendence of a         
celestial spirit4    ,as we have already
 seen that the ,beautiful is limited to 
no particular  form1 but possesses its  
power in some mysterious condition1     
which is applicable to many distinct    
objects2 in like manner does the        
,sublime include within its sphere1 and 
subdue to its condition1 an  indefinite 
variety of objects1 with their          
distinctive conditions2 and  among them 
we find that of the ,beautiful1 as well 
as1 to a certain  degree1 its reverse1  
so that1 though we may truly recognize  
their  coexistence in the same object1  
it is not possible that their effect    
upon us should be otherwise than        
unequal1 and that the higher law  should
 not subordinate the lower4 ,we do not  
deny that the ,beautiful  may1 so to    
speak1 mitigate the awful intensity of  
the ,sublime2 but it  cannot change its 
character1 much less impart its own2 the

 one will  still be awful1 the other1 of
 itself1 never4    ,when at ,rome1 we   
once asked a foreigner1 who seemed to be
 talking  somewhat vaguely on the       
subject1 what he understood by the      
,sublime4  ,his answer was1 ,le plus    
beau2 making it only a matter of degree4
 ,now  let us only imagine 7if we can7 a
 beautiful earthquake1 or a beautiful   
hurricane4 ,and yet the foreigner is not
 alone in this4 ,d',azzara1  the        
biographer of ,mengs1 speaking of       
,beauty1 talks of this sublime  quality1
 and in another place1 for certain      
reasons assigned1 he says1  ,the grand  
style is beautiful4 ,nay1 many writers1 
otherwise of high  authority1 seem to   
have taken the same view2 while others  
who could  have had no such notion1     
having used the words ,beauty and the   
,beautiful in an allegorical or         
metaphorical sense1 have sometimes been 
misinterpreted literally4 ,hence        
,winckelmann reproaches ,michael ,angelo
  for his continual talk about ,beauty1 

when he showed nothing of it  in his    
works4 ,but it is very evident that the 
,bell and  ,bellezza of ,michael ,angelo
 were never used by him in a literal    
sense1 nor intended to be so understood 
by others3 he adopted the  terms solely 
to express abstract ,perfection1 which  
he allegorized as  the mistress of his  
mind1 to whose exclusive worship his    
whole life  was devoted4 ,whether it was
 the most appropriate term he could have
  chosen1 we shall not inquire4 ,it is  
certain1 however1 that the literal      
adoption of it by subsequent writers has
 been the cause of much  confusion1 as  
well as vagueness4    ,for ourselves1 we
 are quite at a loss to imagine how a   
notion so  obviously groundless has ever
 had a single supporter2 for1 if a      
distinct effect implies a distinct      
cause1 we do not see why distinct  terms
 should not be employed to express the  
difference1 or how the  legitimate term 
for one can in any way be applied to    
signify a  particular degree of the     

other4 ,like the two ,dromios1 they     
sometimes  require a conjurer to tell   
which is which4 ,if only ,perfection1   
which  is a generic term implying the   
summit of all things1 be meant1  there  
is surely nothing to be gained 7if we   
except intended  obscurity7 by          
substituting a specific term which is   
limited to a few4  ,we speak not here of
 allegorical or metaphorical propriety1 
which is  not now the question1 but of  
the literal and didactic2 and we may    
add1 that we have never known but one   
result from this arbitrary              
union1--which is1 to procreate words4   
,in further illustration of our         
position1 it may be well here to notice 
one mistaken source of the ,sublime1    
which seems to have been sometimes      
resorted to1 both in poems and pictures2
 namely1 in the sympathy  excited by    
excruciating bodily suffering4 ,suppose 
a man on the rack  to be placed before  
us1--perhaps some miserable victim of   
the  ,inquisition2 the cracking of his  

joints is made frightfully audible2  his
 calamitous ,ah6 goes to our marrow2    
then the cruel precision  of the        
mechanical familiar1 as he lays bare to 
the sight his whole  anatomy of horrors4
 ,and suppose1 too1 the executioner     
compelled  to his task1--consequently an
 irresponsible agent1 whom we cannot    
curse2 and1 finally1 that these two     
objects compose the whole scene4  ,what 
could we feel but an agony even like    
that of the sufferer1 the  only         
difference being that one is physical1  
the other mental8 ,and this  is all that
 mere sympathy has any power to effect2 
it has led us to  its extreme           
point1--our flesh creeps1 and we turn   
away with almost  bodily sickness4 ,but 
let another actor be added to the drama 
in the  presiding ,inquisitor1 the cool 
methodizer of this process of torture2  
in an instant the scene is changed1 and1
 strange to say1 our feelings  become   
less painful1--nay1 we feel a momentary 
interest1--from an  instant revulsion of

 our moral nature3 we are lost in wonder
 at the  excess of human wickedness1 and
 the hateful wonder1 as if partaking of 
the infinite1 now distends the faculties
 to their utmost tension2 for  who can  
set bounds to passion when it seizes the
 whole soul8 ,it is as  the soul itself1
 without form or limit4 ,we may not     
think even of the  after judgment2 we   
become ourselves justice1 and we award a
  hatred commensurate with the sin1 so  
indefinite and monstrous that we  stand 
aghast at our own judgment4    ,why this
 extreme tension of the mind1 when thus 
outwardly  occasioned1 should create in 
us an interest1 we know not2 but such is
  the fact1 and we are not only content 
to endure it for a time1 but  even crave
 it1 and give to the feeling the epithet
 sublime4    ,we do not deny that much  
bodily suffering may be admitted with   
effect  as a subordinate agent1 when1 as
 in the example last added1 it is made  
to serve as a necessary expositor of    
moral deformity4 ,then1 indeed1  in the 

hands of a great artist1 it becomes one 
of the most powerful  auxiliaries to a  
sublime end4 ,all that we contend for is
 that sympathy  alone is insufficient as
 a cause of sublimity4    ,there are yet
 other sources of the false sublime1 7if
 we may so call  it17 which are         
sometimes resorted to also by poets and 
painters2 such  as the horrible1 the    
loathsome1 the hideous1 and the         
monstrous3 these  form the impassable   
boundaries to the true ,sublime4        
,indeed1 there  appears to be in almost 
every emotion a certain point beyond    
which we  cannot pass without           
recoiling1--as if we instinctively      
shrunk from  what is forbidden to our   
nature4    ,it would seem1 then1 that1  
in relation to man1 ,beauty is the      
extreme  point1 or last summit1 of the  
natural world1 since it is in that that 
we recognize the highest emotion of     
which we are susceptible from the       
purely physical4 ,if we ascend thence   
into the moral1 we shall find its       

influence diminish in the same ratio    
with our upward progress4 ,in the       
continuous chain of creation of which it
 forms a part1 the link above  it where 
the moral modification begins seems     
scarcely changed1 yet the  difference1  
though slight1 demands another name1 and
 the nomenclator  within us calls it    
,elegance2 in the next connecting link1 
the moral  adjunct becomes more         
predominant1 and we call it ,majesty2 in
 the next1  the physical becomes still  
fainter1 and we call the union          
,grandeur2 in  the next1 it seems almost
 to vanish1 and a new form rises before 
us1  so mysterious1 so undefined and    
elusive to the senses1 that we turn1  as
 if for its more distinct image1 within 
ourselves1 and there1 with  wonder1     
amazement1 awe1 we see it filling1      
distending1 stretching  every faculty1  
till1 like the ,giant of ,otranto1 it   
seems almost to  burst the imagination3 
under this strange confluence of        
opposite  emotions1 this terrible       

pleasure1 we call the awful form        
,sublimity4  ,this was the still1 small 
voice that shook the ,prophet on        
,horeb2--though small to his ear1 it was
 more than his imagination  could       
contain2 he could not hear it again and 
live4    ,it is not to be supposed that 
we have enumerated all the forms of     
gradation between the ,beautiful and the
 ,sublime2 such was not our  purpose2 it
 is sufficient to have noted the most   
prominent1 leaving  the intermediate    
modifications to be supplied 7as they   
can readily be7  by the reader4 ,if we  
descend from the ,beautiful1 we shall   
pass in like  manner through an equal   
variety of forms gradually modified by  
the  grosser material influences1 as the
 ,handsome1 the ,pretty1 the ,comely1   
the ,plain1 c41 till we fall to the     
,ugly4    ,there ends the chain of      
pleasurable excitement2 but not the     
chain of  ,forms2 which1 taking now as  
if a literal curve1 again bends upward1 
till1 meeting the descending extreme of 

the moral1 it seems to  complete the    
mighty circle4 ,and in this dark segment
 will be found the  startling union of  
deepening discords1--still deepening1 as
 it rises  from the ,ugly to the        
,loathsome1 the ,horrible1 the          
,frightful1#a the  ,appalling4    ,as we
 follow the chain through this last     
region of disease1 misery1  and sin1 of 
embodied ,discord1 and feel1 as we must1
 in the mutilated  affinities of its    
revolting forms1 their fearful relation 
to this  fair1 harmonious creation1--how
 does the awful fact1 in these its      
breathing fragments1 speak to us of a   
fallen world6    ,as the living centre  
of this stupendous circle stands the    
,soul of ,man2  the conscious ,reality1 
to which the vast inclosure is but the  
symbol4 ,how vast1 then1 his being6 ,if 
space could measure it1 the  remotest   
star would fall within its limits4      
,well1 then1 may he tremble  to essay it
 even in thought2 for where must it     
carry him1--that winged  messenger1     

fleeter than light8 ,where but to the   
confines of the  ,infinite2 even to the 
presence of the unutterable ,life1 on   
which nothing finite can look and live8 
,finally1 we shall conclude our         
,discourse with a few words on the      
master ,principle1 which we have        
supposed to be1 by the will of the      
,creator1 the realizing life to all     
things fair and true and good3 and  more
 especially would we revert to its      
spiritual purity1 emphatically          
manifested through all its manifold     
operations1--so impossible  of alliance 
with any thing sordid1 or false1 or     
wicked1--so  unapprehensible1 even1     
except for its own most sinless sake4   
,indeed1  we cannot look upon it as     
other than the universal and eternal    
witness  of ,god's goodness and love1 to
 draw man to himself1 and to testify  to
 the meanest1 most obliquitous mind1--at
 least once in life1 be it  though in   
childhood1--that there is such a thing  
as good  without self4 ,it will be      

remembered1 that1 in all the various    
examples adduced1 in which we have      
endeavoured to illustrate the  operation
 of ,harmony1 there was but one         
character to all its effects1  whatever 
the difference in the objects that      
occasioned them2 that it  was ever      
untinged with any personal taint3 and we
 concluded thence  its supernal source4 
,we may now advance another evidence    
still more  conclusive of its spiritual 
origin1 namely1 in the fact1 that it    
cannot be realized in the ,human ,being 
quoad himself4 ,with the  fullest       
consciousness of the possession of this 
principle1 and with  the power to       
realize it in other objects1 he has     
still no power in  relation to          
himself1--that is1 to become the object 
to himself4    ,now1 as the condition of
 ,harmony1 so far as we can know it     
through its  effect1 is that of         
impletion1 where nothing can be added or
  taken away1 it is evident that such a 
condition can never be realized  by the 

mind in itself4 ,and yet the desire to  
this end is as evidently  implied in    
that incessant1 yet unsatisfying        
activity1 which1 under all              
circumstances1 is an imperative1        
universal law of our nature4    ,it     
might seem needless to enlarge on what  
must be generally felt as an  obvious   
truth2 still1 it may not be amiss to    
offer a few remarks1 by  way of bringing
 it1 though a truism1 more distinctly   
before us4 ,in all  ages the majority of
 mankind have been more or less         
compelled to some  kind of exertion for 
their mere subsistence4 ,like all       
compulsion1 this  has no doubt been     
considered a hardship4 ,yet we never    
find1 when by  their own industry1 or   
any fortunate circumstance1 they have   
been  relieved from this exigency1 that 
any one individual has been  contented  
with doing nothing4 ,some1 indeed1      
before their liberation1  have conceived
 of idleness as a kind of synonyme with 
happiness2 but a  short experience has  

never failed to prove it no less remote 
from that  desirable state4 ,the most   
offensive employments1 for the want of  
a better1 have often been resumed1 to   
relieve the mind from the  intolerable  
load of nothing1--the heaviest of all   
weights1--as  it needs must be to an    
immortal spirit3 for the mind cannot    
stop1  except it be in a mad-house2     
there1 indeed1 it may rest1 or rather   
stagnate1 on one thought1--its little   
circle1 perhaps of misery4 ,from  the   
very moment of consciousness1 the active
 ,principle begins to  busy itself with 
the things about it3 it shows itself in 
the infant1  stretching its little hands
 towards the candle2 in the schoolboy1  
filling up1 if alone1 his play-hour with
 the mimic toils of after age2  and so  
on1 through every stage and condition of
 life2 from the wealthy  spend-thrift1  
beggaring himself at the gaming-table   
for employment1 to  the poor prisoner in
 the ,bastile1 who1 for the want of     
something to  occupy his thoughts1      

overcame the antipathy of his nature1   
and found  his companion in a spider4   
,nay1 were there need1 we might draw out
 the  catalogue till it darkened with   
suicide4 ,but enough has been said to   
show1 that1 aside from guilt1 a more    
terrible fiend has hardly been  imagined
 than the little word ,nothing1 when    
embodied and realized as  the master of 
the mind4 ,and well for the world that  
it is so2 since to  this wise law of our
 nature1 to say nothing of conveniences1
 we owe  the endless sources of innocent
 enjoyment with which the industry and  
ingenuity of man have supplied us4      
,but the wisdom of the law in question  
is not merely that it is a  preventive  
to the mind preying on itself2 we see in
 it a higher  purpose1--no less than    
what involves the developement of the   
human  being2 and1 if we look to its    
final bearing1 it is of the deepest     
import4 ,it might seem at first a       
paradox1 that1 the natural condition  of
 the mind being averse to inactivity1 it

 should still have so  strong a desire  
for rest2 but a little reflection will  
show that this  involves no real        
contradiction4 ,the mind only mistakes  
the name  of its object1 neither rest   
nor action being its real aim2 for in a 
state of rest it desires action1 and in 
a state of action1 rest4 ,now  all      
action supposes a purpose1 which purpose
 can consist of but one  of two things2 
either the attainment of some immediate 
object as its  completion1 or the       
causing of one or more future acts1 that
 shall  follow as a consequence4 ,but   
whether the action terminates in an     
immediate object1 or serves as the      
procreating cause of an indefinite      
series of acts1 it must have some       
ultimate object in which it  ends1--or  
is to end4 ,even supposing such a series
 of acts to be  continued through a     
whole life1 and yet remain incomplete1  
it would  not alter the case4 ,it is    
well known that many such series have   
employed the minds of mathematicians and

 astronomers to their last  hour2 nay1  
that those acts have been taken up by   
others1 and continued  through          
successive generations3 still1 whether  
the point be arrived at  or no1 there   
must have been an end in contemplation4 
,now no one can  believe that1 in       
similar cases1 any man would voluntarily
 devote all  his days to the adding link
 after link to an endless chain1 for    
the mere pleasure of labor4 ,it is true 
he may be aware of the  wholesomeness of
 such labor as one of the means of      
cheerfulness2 but1  if he have no       
further aim1 his being aware of this    
result makes an  equable flow of spirits
 a positive object4 ,without hope1      
uncompelled labor is an impossibility2  
and hope implies an object4 ,nor  would 
the veriest idler1 who passes a whole   
day in whittling a stick1  if he could  
be brought to look into himself1 deny   
it4 ,so far from  having no object1 he  
would and must acknowledge that he was  
in  fact hoping to relieve himself of an

 oppressive portion of time by          
whittling away its minutes and hours4   
,here we have an extreme instance  of   
that which constitutes the real business
 of life1 from the most  idle to the    
most industrious2 namely1 to attain to a
 satisfying  state4    ,but no one will 
assert that such a state was ever a     
consequence of the  attainment of any   
object1 however exalted4 ,and why8      
,because the motive  of action is left  
behind1 and we have nothing before us4  
,something to desire1 something to look 
forward to1 we must  have1 or we        
perish1--even of suicidal rest4 ,if we  
find it not here in  the world about us1
 it must be sought for in another2 to   
which1 as we  conceive1 that secret     
ruler of the soul1 the inscrutable1     
ever-present  spirit of ,harmony1 for   
ever points4 ,nor is it essential that  
the  thought of harmony should even     
cross the mind2 for a want may be  felt 
without any distinct consciousness of   
the form of that which is  desired4     

,and1 for the most part1 it is only in  
this negative way that  its influence is
 acknowledged4 ,but this is sufficient  
to account  for the universal longing1  
whether definite or indefinite1 and the 
consequent universal disappointment4    
,we have said that man cannot to himself
 become the object of  ,harmony1--that  
is1 find its proper correlative in      
himself2 and we have  seen that1 in his 
present state1 the position is true4    
,how is it1  then1 in the world of      
spirit8 ,who can answer8 ,and yet1      
perhaps1--if  without irreverence we    
might hazard the conjecture1--as a      
finite  creature1 having no centre in   
himself on which to revolve1 may it not 
be that his true correlative will there 
be revealed 7if1 indeed1 it be  not     
before7 to the disembodied man1 in the  
,being that made him8 ,and  may it not  
also follow1 that the ,principle we     
speak of will cease to  be potential1   
and flow out1 as it were1 and harmonize 
with the  eternal form of ,hope1--even  

that ,hope whose living end is in the   
unapproachable ,infinite8    ,let us    
suppose this form of hope to be taken   
away from an immortal  being who has no 
self-satisfying power within him1 what  
would be  his condition8 ,a conscious1  
interminable vacuum1 were such a thing  
possible1 would but faintly image it4   
,hope1 then1 though in its nature       
unrealizable1 is not a mere notion2 for 
so long as it continues  hope1 it is to 
the mind an object and an object to be  
realized2  so1 where its form is        
eternal1 it cannot but be to it an      
ever-during  object4 ,hence we may      
conceive of a never-ending approximation
 to what  can never be realized4        
,from this it would appear1 that1 while 
we cannot to ourselves become  the      
object of ,harmony1 it is nevertheless  
certain1 from the universal  desire so  
to realize it1 that we cannot suppress  
the continual  impulse of this paramount
 ,principle2 which1 therefore1 as it    
seems to  us1 must have a double        

purpose2 first1 by its outward          
manifestation1  which we all recognize1 
to confirm its reality1 and secondly1 to
  convince the mind that its true object
 is not merely out of1 but  above1      
itself1--and only to be found in the    
,infinite ,creator4          ,art4      
,in treating on ,art1 which1 in its     
highest sense1 and more especially  in  
relation to ,painting and ,sculpture1 is
 the subject proposed for  our present  
examination1 the first question that    
occurs is1 ,in  what consists its       
peculiar character8 or rather1 ,what are
 the  characteristics that distinguish  
it from ,nature1 which it professes to  
imitate8    ,to this we reply1 that ,art
 is characterized1--    ,first1 by      
,originality4    ,secondly1 by what we  
shall call ,human or ,poetic ,truth2    
which is the  verifying principle by    
which we recognize the first4           
,thirdly1 by ,invention2 the product of 
the ,imagination1 as grounded on  the   
first1 and verified by the second4 ,and1

    ,fourthly1 by ,unity1 the synthesis 
of all4    ,as the first step to the    
right understanding of any discourse is 
a  clear apprehension of the terms used1
 we add1 that by ,originality we  mean  
any thing 7admitted by the mind as true7
 which is peculiar  to the ,author1 and 
which distinguishes his production from 
that of  all others2 by ,human or       
,poetic ,truth1 that which may be said  
to exist  exclusively in and for the    
mind1 and as contradistinguished from   
the  truth of things in the natural or  
external world2 by ,invention1 any      
unpractised mode of presenting a        
subject1 whether by the combination  of 
entire objects already known1 or by the 
union and modification  of known but    
fragmentary parts into new and          
consistent forms2 and1  lastly1 by      
,unity1 such an agreement and           
interdependence of all the  parts1 as   
shall constitute a whole4    ,it will be
 our attempt to show1 that1 by the      
presence or absence of  any one of these

 characteristics1 we shall be able to   
affirm or deny  in respect to the       
pretension of any object as a work of   
,art2 and also  that we shall find      
within ourselves the corresponding law1 
or by  whatever word we choose to       
designate it1 by which each will be     
recognized2 that is1 in the degree      
proportioned to the developement1  or   
active force1 of the law so judging4    
,supposing the reader to have gone along
 with us in what has been said of  the  
,universal1 in our ,preliminary         
,discourse1 and as assenting to the     
position1 that any faculty1 law1 or     
principle1 which can be shown to be     
essential to any one mind1 must         
necessarily be also predicated of  every
 other sound mind1 even where the       
particular faculty or law is so  feebly 
developed as apparently to amount to its
 absence1 in which case  it is inferred 
potentially1--we shall now assume1 on   
the same grounds1  that the originating 
cause1 notwithstanding its apparent     

absence in  the majority of men1 is an  
essential reality in the condition of   
the  ,human ,being2 its potential       
existence in all being of necessity     
affirmed  from its existence in one4    
,assuming1 then1 its reality1--or rather
 leaving it to be evidenced  from its   
known effects1--we proceed to inquire in
 what consists  this originating power4 
,and1 first1 as to its most simple form4
 ,if it be true1 7as we hope to  set    
forth more at large in a future         
discourse17 that no two minds were  ever
 found to be identical1 there must then 
in every individual mind  be something  
which is not in any other4 ,and1 if this
 unknown  something is also found to    
give its peculiar hue1 so to speak1  to 
every impression from outward objects1  
it seems but a natural  inference1 that1
 whatever it be1 it must possess a      
pervading  force over the entire        
mind1--at least1 in relation to what is 
external4 ,but1 though this may truly be
 affirmed of man generally1  from its   

evidence in any one person1 we shall be 
far from the fact1  should we therefore 
affirm1 that1 otherwise than            
potentially1 the  power of outwardly    
manifesting it is also universal4 ,we   
know that it  is not1--and our daily    
experience proves that the power of     
reproducing  or giving out the          
individualized impressions is widely    
different in  different men4 ,with some 
it is so feeble as apparently never to  
act2  and1 so far as our subject is     
concerned1 it may practically be said   
not to exist2 of which we have abundant 
examples in other mental  phenomena1    
where an imperfect activity often       
renders the existence of  some essential
 faculty a virtual nullity4 ,when it    
acts in the higher  decrees1 so as to   
make another see or feel as the         
,individual  saw or felt1--this1 in     
relation to ,art1 is what we mean1 in   
its  strictest sense1 by ,originality4  
,he1 therefore1 who possesses the  power
 of presenting to another the precise   

images or emotions  as they existed in  
himself1 presents that which can be     
found nowhere  else1 and was first found
 by and within himself2 and1 however    
light or  trifling1 where these are true
 as to his own mind1 their author is so 
far an originator4    ,but let us take  
an example1 and suppose two portraits2  
simple  heads1 without accessories1 that
 is1 with blank backgrounds1 such as  we
 often see1 where no attempt is made at 
composition2 and both by  artists of    
equal talent1 employing the same        
materials1 and conducting  their work   
according to the same technical process4
 ,we will also  suppose ourselves       
acquainted with the person represented1 
with whom  to compare them4 ,who1 that  
has ever made a similar comparison1 will
  expect to find them identical8 ,on the
 contrary1 though in all respects       
equal1 in execution1 likeness1 c41 we   
shall still perceive a certain          
exclusive something that will instantly 
distinguish the one  from the other1 and

 both from the original4 ,and yet they  
shall both  seem to us true4 ,but they  
will be true to us also in a double     
sense2  namely1 as to the living        
original and as to the individuality of 
the different painters4 ,where such is  
the result1 both artists must           
originate1 inasmuch as they both        
outwardly realize the individual  image 
of their distinctive minds4    ,nor can 
the truth they present be ascribed to   
the technic process1  which we have     
supposed the same with each2 as1 on such
 a supposition1  with their equal skill1
 the result must have been identical4   
,no2  by whatever it is that one man's  
mental impression1 or his mode of       
thought1 is made to differ from         
another's1 it is that something1 which  
our imaginary artists have here         
transferred to their pencil1 that  makes
 them different1 yet both original4     
,now1 whether the medium through which  
the impressions1 conceptions1 or        
emotions of the mind are thus externally

 realized be that of colors1  words1 or 
any thing else1 this mysterious though  
certain principle is1  as we believe1   
the true and only source of all         
originality4    ,in the power of        
assimilating what is foreign1 or        
external1 to our own  particular nature 
consists the individualizing law1 and in
 the power  of reproducing what is thus 
modified consists the originating cause4
    ,let us turn now to an opposite     
example1--to a mere mechanical copy of  
some natural object1 where the marks in 
question are wholly wanting4  ,will any 
one be truly affected by it8 ,we think  
not2 we do not say that  he will not    
praise it1--this he may do from various 
motives2 but his  feeling--if we may so 
name the index of the law within--will  
not be called forth to any spontaneous  
correspondence with the object  before  
him4    ,but why talk of feeling1 says  
the pseudo-connoisseur1 where we should 
only1 or at least first1 bring          
knowledge8 ,this is the common cant of  

those who become critics for the sake of
 distinction4 ,let the ,artist  avoid   
them1 if he would not disfranchise      
himself in the suppression  of that     
uncompromising test within him1 which is
 the only sure  guide to the truth      
without4    ,it is a poor ambition to   
desire the office of a judge merely for 
the sake of passing sentence4 ,but such 
an ambition is not likely to  possess a 
person of true sensibility4 ,there are  
some1 however1 in  whom there is no     
deficiency of sensibility1 yet who1     
either from  self-distrust1 or from some
 mistaken notion of ,art1 are easily    
persuaded to give up a right feeling1 in
 exchange for what they may  suppose to 
be knowledge1--the barren knowledge of  
faults2 as if there  could be a human   
production without them6 ,nevertheless1 
there is  little to be apprehended from 
any conventional theory1 by one who is  
forewarned of its mere negative         
power1--that it can1 at best1 only      
suppress feeling2 for no one ever was1  

or ever can be1 argued into  a real     
liking for what he has once felt to be  
false4 ,but1 where the  feeling is      
genuine1 and not the mere reflex of a   
popular notion1 so  far as it goes it   
must be true4 ,let no one1 therefore1   
distrust it1 to  take counsel of his    
head1 when he finds himself standing    
before a work  of ,art4 ,does he feel   
its truth8 is the only question1--if1   
indeed1 the  impertinence of the        
understanding should then propound one2 
which we  think it will not1 where the  
feeling is powerful4 ,to such a one1 the
  characteristic of ,art upon which we  
are now discoursing will force  its way 
with the power of light2 nor will he    
ever be in danger of  mistaking a       
mechanical copy for a living imitation4 
,but we sometimes hear of faithful      
transcripts1 nay1 of fac-similes4  ,if  
by these be implied neither more nor    
less than exists in their  originals1   
they must still1 in that case1 find     
their true place in  the dead category  

of ,copy4 ,yet we need not be detained  
by any inquiry  concerning the merits of
 a fac-simile1 since we firmly deny that
 a  fac-simile1 in the true sense of the
 term1 is a thing possible4    ,that an 
absolute identity between any natural   
object and its represented  image is a  
thing impossible1 will hardly be        
questioned by any one who  thinks1 and  
will give the subject a moment's        
reflection2 and the  difficulty lies in 
the nature of things1 the one being the 
work of the  ,creator1 and the other of 
the creature4 ,we shall therefore assume
 as a  fact1 the eternal and insuperable
 difference between ,art and ,nature4   
,that  our pleasure from ,art is        
nevertheless similar1 not to say equal1 
to that  which we derive from ,nature1  
is also a fact established by           
experience2 to  account for which we are
 necessarily led to the admission of    
another fact1  namely1 that there exists
 in ,art a peculiar something which we  
receive  as equivalent to the admitted  

difference4 ,now1 whether we call this  
equivalent1 individualized truth1 or    
human or poetic truth1 it matters  not2 
we know by its effects1 that some such  
principle does exist1 and  that it acts 
upon us1 and in a way corresponding to  
the operation of that  which we call    
,truth and ,life in the natural world4  
,of the various laws  growing out of    
this principle1 which take the name of  
,rules when applied  to ,art1 we shall  
have occasion to speak in a future      
discourse4 ,at present  we shall confine
 ourselves to the inquiry1 how far the  
difference alluded  to may be safely    
allowed in any work professing to be an 
imitation of  ,nature4    ,the fact1    
that truth may subsist with a very      
considerable admixture  of falsehood1 is
 too well known to require an argument4 
,however  reprehensible such an         
admixture may be in morals1 it becomes  
in ,art1  from the limited nature of our
 powers1 a matter of necessity4    ,for 
the same reason1 even the realizing of a

 thought1 or that which  is properly and
 exclusively human1 must ever be        
imperfect4 ,if ,truth1  then1 form but  
the greater proportion1 it is quite as  
much as we may  reasonably look for in a
 work of ,art4 ,but why1 it may be      
asked1 where  the false predominates1 do
 we still derive pleasure8 ,simply      
because of  the ,truth that remains4 ,if
 it be further demanded1 ,what is the   
minimum  of truth in order to a         
pleasurable effect8 we reply1 ,so much  
only as  will cause us to feel that the 
truth exists4 ,it is this feeling  alone
 that determines1 not only the true1 but
 the degrees of truth1  and consequently
 the degrees of pleasure4    ,where no  
such feeling is awakened1 and supposing 
no deficiency in the  recipient1 he may 
safely1 from its absence1 pronounce the 
work false2  nor could any ingenious    
theory of the understanding convince him
 to  the contrary4 ,he may1 indeed1 as  
some are wont to do1 make a random      
guess1 and call the work true2 but he   

can never so feel  it by any effort of  
reasoning4 ,but may not men differ as to
 their  impressions of truth8 ,certainly
 as to the degrees of it1 and in this   
according to their sensibility1 in which
 we know that men are not  equal4 ,by   
sensibility here we mean the power or   
capacity of receiving  impressions4 ,all
 men1 indeed1 with equal organs1 may be 
said in a  certain sense to see alike4  
,but will the same natural object1      
conveyed through these organs1 leave the
 same impression8 ,the fact is          
otherwise4 ,what1 then1 causes the      
difference1 if it be not 7as before     
observed7 a peculiar something in the   
individual mind1 that modifies  the     
image8 ,if so1 there must of necessity  
be in every true work of  ,art--if we   
may venture the expression--another1 or 
distinctive1 truth4  ,to recognize this1
 therefore1--as we have elsewhere       
endeavoured to  show1--supposes in the  
recipient something akin to it4 ,and1   
though it  be in reality but a sign of  

life1 it is still a sign of which  we no
 sooner receive the impress1 than1 by a 
law of our mind1 we feel  it to be      
acting upon our thoughts and sympathies1
 without our knowing  how or wherefore4 
,admitting1 therefore1 the corresponding
 instinct1  or whatever else it may be  
called1 to vary in men1--which there is 
no  reason to doubt1--the solution of   
their unequal impression appears at     
once4 ,hence it would be no extravagant 
metaphor1 should we affirm that  some   
persons see more with their minds than  
others with their eyes4  ,nay1 it must  
be obvious to all who are conversant    
with ,art1 that  much1 if not the       
greater part1 in its higher branches is 
especially  addressed to this mental    
vision4 ,and it is very certain1 if     
there were  no truth beyond the reach of
 the senses1 that little would remain to
  us of what we now consider our highest
 and most refined pleasure4    ,but it  
must not be inferred that originality   
consists in any  contradiction to       

,nature2 for1 were this allowed and     
carried out1 it  would bring us to the  
conclusion1 that1 the greater the       
contradiction1  the higher the ,art4 ,we
 insist only on the modification of the 
natural  by the personal2 for ,nature   
is1 and ever must be1 at least the      
sensuous ground of all ,art3 and where  
the outward and inward are  so united   
that we cannot separate them1 there     
shall we find the  perfection of ,art4  
,so complete a union has1 perhaps1 never
 been  accomplished1 and may be         
impossible2 it is certain1 however1     
that no approach to excellence can ever 
be made1 if the idea of  such a union be
 not constantly looked to by the artist 
as his ultimate  aim4 ,nor can the idea 
be admitted without supposing a third as
  the product of the two1--which we call
 ,art2 between which and ,nature1  in   
its strictest sense1 there must ever be 
a difference2 indeed1 a  difference with
 resemblance is that which constitutes  
its  essential condition4    ,it has    

doubtless been observed1 that1 in this  
inquiry concerning the  nature and      
operation of the first characteristic1  
the presence of the  second1 or         
verifying principle1 has been all along 
implied2 nor could  it be otherwise1    
because of their mutual dependence4     
,still more will  its active agency be  
supposed in our examination of the      
third1 namely1  ,invention4 ,but before 
we proceed to that1 the paramount index 
of the  highest art1 it may not be amiss
 to obtain1 if possible1 some distinct  
apprehension of what we have termed     
,poetic ,truth2 to which1 it will be    
remembered1 was also prefixed the       
epithet ,human1 our object therein      
being to prepare the mind1 by a single  
word1 for its peculiar sphere2  and we  
think it applicable also for a more     
important reason1  namely1 that this    
kind of ,truth is the true ground of the
  poetical1--for in what consists the   
poetry of the natural world1  if not in 
the sentiment and reacting life it      

receives from the human  fancy and      
affections8 ,and1 until it can be shown 
that sentiment and  fancy are also      
shared by the brute creation1 this      
seeming effluence  from the beautiful in
 nature must rightfully revert to man4  
,what1 for  instance1 can we suppose to 
be the effect of the purple haze of a   
summer sunset on the cows and sheep1 or 
even on the more delicate  inhabitants  
of the air8 ,from what we know of their 
habits1 we  cannot suppose more than the
 mere physical enjoyment of its genial  
temperature4 ,but how is it with the    
poet1 whom we shall suppose  an object  
in the same scene1 stretched on the same
 bank with the  ruminating cattle1 and  
basking in the same light that flickers 
from  the skimming birds4 ,does he feel 
nothing more than the genial warmth8    
,ask him1 and he perhaps will           
say1--,this is my soul's hour2 this     
purpled air the heart's atmosphere1     
melting by its breath the sealed        
fountains of love1 which the cold       

commonplace of the world had frozen3  ,i
 feel them gushing forth on every thing 
around me2 and how worthy of  love now  
appear to me these innocent animals1    
nay1 these whispering  leaves1 that seem
 to kiss the passing air1 and blush the 
while at  their own fondness6 ,surely   
they are happy1 and grateful too that   
they  are so2 for hark6 how the little  
birds send up their song of praise6  and
 see how the waving trees and waving    
grass1 in mute accordance1  keep time   
with the hymn6    ,this is but one of   
the thousand forms in which the human   
spirit is  wont to effuse itself on the 
things without1 making to the mind a    
new and fairer world1--even the         
shadowing of that which its immortal    
craving will sometimes dream of in the  
unknown future4 ,nay1 there  is scarcely
 an object so familiar or humble1 that  
its magical touch  cannot invest it with
 some poetic charm4 ,let us take an     
extreme  instance1--a pig in his sty4   
,the painter1 ,morland1 was able to     

convert  even this disgusting object    
into a source of pleasure1--and a       
pleasure  as real as any that is known  
to the palate4    ,leaving this to have 
the weight it may be found to deserve1  
we turn  to the original question2      
namely1 ,what do we mean by ,human or   
,poetic  ,truth8    ,when1 in respect to
 certain objects1 the effects are found 
to be  uniformly of the same kind1 not  
only upon ourselves1 but also upon      
others1 we may reasonably infer that the
 efficient cause is of one  nature1 and 
that its uniformity is a necessary      
result4 ,and1 when we also  find that   
these effects1 though differing in      
degree1 are yet uniform in  their       
character1 while they seem to proceed   
from objects which in  themselves are   
indefinitely variant1 both in kind and  
degree1 we are  still more forcibly     
drawn to the conclusion1 that the cause 
is not  only one1 but not inherent in   
the object4#b ,the question now arises1 
,what1 then1 is that which seems to us  

so like an alter et idem1--which        
appears to act upon1 and is recognized  
by us1 through an animal1 a bird1  a    
tree1 and a thousand different1 nay1    
opposing objects1 in the same  way1 and 
to the same end8 ,the inference follows 
of necessity1 that the  mysterious cause
 must be in some general law1 which is  
absolute and  imperative in relation to 
every such object under certain         
conditions4  ,and we receive the        
solution as true1--because we cannot    
help it4 ,the  reality1 then1 of such a 
law becomes a fixture in the mind4      
,but we do not stop here3 we would know 
something concerning the  conditions    
supposed4 ,and in order to this1 we go  
back to the effect4  ,and the answer is 
returned in the form of a               
question1--,may it not  be something    
from ourselves1 which is reflected back 
by the  object1--something with which1  
as it were1 we imbue the object1 making 
it correspond to a reality within us8   
,now we recognize the  reality within2  

we recognize it also in the object1--and
 the affirming  light flashes upon us1  
not in the form of deduction1 but of    
inherent ,truth1 which we cannot get rid
 of2 and we call it  ,truth1--for it    
will take no other name4    ,it now     
remains to discover1 so to speak1 its   
location4 ,in what part1  then1 of man  
may this self-evidenced1 yet elusive1   
,truth or power be  said to reside8 ,it 
cannot be in the senses2 for the senses 
can impart  no more than they receive4  
,is it1 then1 in the mind8 ,here we are 
compelled to ask1 ,what is understood by
 the mind8 ,do we mean the              
understanding8 ,we can trace no relation
 between the ,truth we would  class and 
the reflective faculties4 ,or in the    
moral principle8 ,surely  not2 for we   
can predicate neither good nor evil by  
the ,truth in  question4 ,finally1 do we
 find it identified with the truth of   
the ,spirit8 ,but what is the truth of  
the ,spirit but the ,spirit             
itself1--the conscious ,i8 which is     

never even thought of in  connection    
with it4 ,in what form1 then1 shall we  
recognize it8 ,in  its own1--the form of
 ,life1--the life of the ,human ,being2 
that  self-projecting1 realizing power1 
which is ever present1 ever acting  and 
giving judgment on the instant on all   
things corresponding with  its          
inscrutable self4 ,we now assign it a   
distinctive epithet1 and call  it       
,human4    ,it is a common saying1 that 
there is more in a name than we are apt 
to imagine4 ,and the saying is not      
without reason2 for when the name       
happens to be the true one1 being proved
 in its application1 it  becomes no     
unimportant indicator as to the         
particular offices for  which the thing 
named was designed4 ,so we find it with 
respect to the  ,truth of which we      
speak2 its distinctive epithet marking  
out to us1 as  its sphere of action1 the
 mysterious intercourse between man and 
man2  whether the medium consist in     
words or colors1 in thought or form1 or 

in any thing else on which the human    
agent may impress1 be it in a  sign     
only1 his own marvellous life4 ,as to   
the process or modus  operandi1 it were 
a vain endeavour to seek it out3 that   
divine  secret must ever to man be an   
humbling darkness4 ,it is enough for him
  to know that there is that within him 
which is ever answering to that         
without1 as life to life1--which must be
 life1 and which must be true4    ,we   
proceed now to the third characteristic4
 ,it has already been  stated1 in the   
general definition1 what we would be    
understood to mean  by the term         
,invention1 in its particular relation  
to ,art2 namely1 any  unpractised mode  
of presenting a subject1 whether by the 
combination  of forms already known1 or 
by the union and modification of known  
but fragmentary parts into a new and    
consistent whole3 in both cases  tested 
by the two preceding characteristics4   
,we shall consider first that division  
of the subject which stands first  in   

order1--the ,invention which consists in
 the new combination of known  forms4   
,this may be said to be governed by its 
exclusive relation either  to what is1  
or has been1 or1 when limited by the    
probable1 to what  strictly may be4 ,it 
may therefore be distinguished by the   
term ,natural4  ,but though we so name  
it1 inasmuch as all its forms have their
  prototypes in the ,actual1 it must    
still be remembered that these  existing
 forms do substantially constitute no   
more than mere parts to  be combined    
into a whole1 for which ,nature has     
provided no original4  ,for examples in 
this1 the most comprehensive class1 we  
need not refer  to any particular       
school2 they are to be found in all and 
in every  gallery3 from the histories of
 ,raffaelle1 the landscapes of ,claude  
and  ,poussin and others1 to the        
familiar scenes of ,jan ,steen1 ,ostade1
 and  ,brower4 ,in each of these an     
adherence to the actual1 if not strictly
  observed1 is at least supposed in all 

its parts2 not so in the whole1 as  that
 relates to the probable2 by which we   
mean such a result as would  be true1   
were the same combination to occur in   
nature4 ,nor must we be  understood to  
mean1 by adherence to the actual1 that  
one part is to be  taken for an exact   
portrait2 we mean only such an imitation
 as precludes  an intentional deviation 
from already existing and known forms4  
,it must be very obvious1 that1 in      
classing together any of the            
productions of the artists above named1 
it cannot be intended to  reduce them to
 a level2 such an attempt 7did our      
argument require it7  must instantly    
revolt the common sense and feeling of  
every one at all  acquainted with ,art4 
,and therefore1 perhaps1 it may be      
thought that  their striking difference1
 both in kind and degree1 might justly  
call  for some further division4 ,but   
admitting1 as all must1 a wide1 nay1    
almost impassable1 interval between the 
familiar subjects of the lower  ,dutch  

and ,flemish painters1 and the higher   
intellectual works of the  great        
,italian masters1 we see no reason why  
they may not be left to  draw their own 
line of demarcation as to their         
respective provinces1  even as is every 
day done by actual objects2 which are   
all equally  natural1 though widely     
differenced as well in kind as in       
quality4 ,it  is no degradation to the  
greatest genius to say of him and of the
 most  unlettered boor1 that they are   
both men4    ,besides1 as a more minute 
division would be wholly irrelevant to  
the  present purpose1 we shall defer the
 examination of their individual        
differences to another occasion4 ,in    
order1 however1 more distinctly to      
exhibit their common ground of          
,invention1 we will briefly examine a   
picture by ,ostade1 and then compare it 
with one by ,raffaelle1 than  whom no   
two artists could well be imagined      
having less in common4    ,the interior 
of a ,dutch cottage forms the scene of  

,ostade's work1  presenting something   
between a kitchen and a stable4 ,its    
principal  object is the carcass of a   
hog1 newly washed and hung up to dry2   
subordinate to which is a woman nursing 
an infant2 the accessories1  various    
garments1 pots1 kettles1 and other      
culinary utensils4    ,the bare         
enumeration of these coarse materials   
would naturally  predispose the mind of 
one1 unacquainted with the ,dutch       
school1 to  expect any thing but        
pleasure2 indifference1 not to say      
disgust1 would  seem to be the only     
possible impression from a picture      
composed of  such ingredients4 ,and     
such1 indeed1 would be their effect     
under the  hand of any but a real       
,artist4 ,let us look into the picture  
and follow  ,ostade's mind1 as it leaves
 its impress on the several objects4    
,observe how he spreads his principal   
light1 from the suspended carcass  to   
the surrounding objects1 moulding it1 so
 to speak1 into agreeable  shapes1 here 

by extending it to a bit of drapery1    
there to an earthen  pot2 then          
connecting it1 by the flash from a brass
 kettle1 with his  second light1 the    
woman and child2 and again turning the  
eye into  the dark recesses through a   
labyrinth of broken chairs1 old baskets1
  roosting fowls1 and bits of straw1    
till a glimpse of sunshine1 from  a     
half-open window1 gleams on the eye1 as 
it were1 like an echo1 and  sending it  
back to the principal object1 which now 
seems to act on the  mind as the        
luminous source of all these diverging  
lights4 ,but the  magical whole is not  
yet completed2 the mystery of color has 
been  called in to the aid of light1 and
 so subtly blends that we can hardly    
separate them2 at least1 until their    
united effect has first been  felt1 and 
after we have begun the process of cold 
analysis4 ,yet even  then we cannot long
 proceed before we find the charm       
returning2 as we  pass from the blaze of
 light on the carcass1 where all the    

tints of  the prism seem to be faintly  
subdued1 we are met on its borders by   
the  dark harslet1 glowing like rubies2 
then we repose awhile on the white  cap 
and kerchief of the nursing mother2 then
 we are roused again by  the flickering 
strife of the antagonist colors on a    
blue jacket and  red petticoat2 then the
 strife is softened by the low yellow of
 a  straw-bottomed chair2 and thus with 
alternating excitement and repose  do we
 travel through the picture1 till the   
scientific explorer loses  the analyst  
in the unresisting passiveness of a     
poetic dream4 ,now  all this will no    
doubt appear to many1 if not absurd1 at 
least  exaggerated3 but not so to those 
who have ever felt the sorcery of       
color4 ,they1 we are sure1 will be the  
last to question the character  of the  
feeling because of the ingredients which
 worked the spell1  and1 if true to     
themselves1 they must call it poetry4   
,nor will they  consider it any         
disparagement to the all-accomplished   

,raffaelle to say  of ,ostade that he   
also was an ,artist4    ,we turn now to 
a work of the great ,italian1--the      
,death of ,ananias4  ,the scene is laid 
in a plain apartment1 which is wholly   
devoid of  ornament1 as became the hall 
of audience of the primitive            
,christians4  ,the ,apostles 7then      
eleven in number7 have assembled to     
transact the  temporal business of the  
,church1 and are standing together on a 
slightly elevated platform1 about which1
 in various attitudes1 some  standing1  
others kneeling1 is gathered a          
promiscuous assemblage of  their new    
converts1 male and female4 ,this quiet  
assembly 7for we still  feel its        
quietness in the midst of the awful     
judgment7 is suddenly  roused by the    
sudden fall of one of their brethren2   
some of them turn  and see him          
struggling in the agonies of death4 ,a  
moment before he was  in the vigor of   
life1--as his muscular limbs still bear 
evidence2  but he had uttered a         

falsehood1 and an instant after his     
frame is  convulsed from head to foot4  
,nor do we doubt for a moment as to the 
awful cause3 it is almost expressed in  
voice by those nearest to  him1 and1    
though varied by their different        
temperaments1 by terror1  astonishment1 
and submissive faith1 this voice has yet
 but one  meaning1--,ananias has lied to
 the ,holy ,ghost4 ,the terrible words1 
as  if audible to the mind1 now direct  
us to him who pronounced his doom1  and 
the singly-raised finger of the ,apostle
 marks him the judge2 yet  not of       
himself1--for neither his attitude1 air1
 nor expression has  any thing in unison
 with the impetuous ,peter1--he is now  
the simple1  passive1 yet awful         
instrument of the ,almighty3 while      
another on the  right1 with equal       
calmness1 though with more severity1 by 
his elevated  arm1 as beckoning to      
judgment1 anticipates the fate of the   
entering  ,sapphira4 ,yet all is not    
done2 lest a question remain1 the       

,apostle on  the left confirms the      
judgment4 ,no one can mistake what      
passes within  him2 like one transfixed 
in adoration1 his uplifted eyes seem to 
ray  out his soul1 as if in recognition 
of the divine tribunal4 ,but the        
overpowering thought of ,omnipotence is 
now tempered by the human  sympathy of  
his companion1 whose open hands1        
connecting the past with  the present1  
seem almost to articulate1 ,alas1 my    
brother6 ,by this  exquisite turn1 we   
are next brought to ,john1 the gentle   
almoner of the  ,church1 who is dealing 
out their portions to the needy         
brethren4 ,and  here1 as most remote    
from the judged ,ananias1 whose         
suffering seems  not yet to have reached
 it1 we find a spot of repose1--not to  
pass by1  but to linger upon1 till we   
feel its quiet influence diffusing      
itself  over the whole mind2 nay1 till1 
connecting it with the beloved          
,disciple1 we find it leading us back   
through the exciting scene1  modifying  

even our deepest emotions with a kindred
 tranquillity4    ,this is ,invention2  
we have not moved a step through the    
picture but at  the will of the ,artist4
 ,he invented the chain which we have   
followed1  link by link1 through every  
emotion1 assimilating many into one2 and
  this is the secret by which he        
prepared us1 without exciting horror1   
to contemplate the struggle of mortal   
agony4    ,this too is ,art2 and the    
highest art1 when thus the awful power1 
without losing its character1 is        
tempered1 as it were1 to our  mysterious
 desires4 ,in the work of ,ostade1 we   
see the same inventive  power1 no less  
effective1 though acting through the    
medium of the  humblest materials4      
,we have now exhibited two pictures1 and
 by two painters who may be  said to    
stand at opposite poles4 ,and yet1      
widely apart as are their  apparent     
stations1 they are nevertheless tenants 
of the same ground1  namely1 actual     
nature2 the only difference being1 that 

one is  the sovereign of the purely     
physical1 the other of the moral and    
intellectual1 while their common medium 
is the catholic ground of the           
imagination4    ,we do not fear either  
skeptical demur or direct contradiction1
 when  we assert that the imagination is
 as much the medium of the homely       
,ostade1 as of the refined ,raffaelle4  
,for what is that1 which has just       
wrapped us as in a spell when we entered
 his humble cottage1--which1  as we     
wandered through it1 invested the       
coarsest object with a  strange charm8  
,was it the truth of these objects that 
we there  acknowledged8 ,in part1       
certainly1 but not simply the truth that
  belongs to their originals2 it was the
 truth of his own individual  mind      
superadded to that of nature1 nay1      
clothed upon besides by his             
imagination1 imbuing it with all the    
poetic hues which float in the  opposite
 regions of night and day1 and which    
only a poet can mingle  and make visible

 in one pervading atmosphere4 ,to all   
this our own  minds1 our own            
imaginations1 respond1 and we pronounce 
it true to  both4 ,we have no other     
rule1 and well may the artists of every 
age and  country thank the great        
,lawgiver that there is no other4 ,the  
despised feeling which the schools have 
scouted is yet the  mother of that      
science of which they vainly boast4 ,but
 of this we may  have more to say in    
another place4    ,we shall now ascend  
from the probable to the possible1  to  
that branch of ,invention whose proper  
office is from the known but            
fragmentary to realize the unknown2 in  
other words1 to embody the  possible1   
having its sphere of action in the world
 of ,ideas4 ,to this  class1 therefore1 
may properly be assigned the term       
,ideal4    ,and here1 as being its most 
important scene1 it will be necessary to
  take a more particular view of the    
verifying principle1 the agent1 so  to  
speak1 that gives reality to the inward1

 when outwardly manifested4    ,now1    
whether we call this ,human or ,poetic  
,truth1 or inward  life1 it matters not2
 we know by its effects1 7as we have    
already said1 and we now repeat17 that  
some such principle does exist1  and    
that it acts upon us1 and in a way      
analogous to the operation of  that     
which we call truth and life in the     
world about us4 ,and that the  cause of 
this analogy is a real affinity between 
the two powers seems  to us confirmed1  
not only positively by this acknowledged
  fact1 but also negatively by the      
absence of the effect above  mentioned  
in all those productions of the mind    
which we pronounce  unnatural4 ,it is   
therefore in effect1 or quoad ourselves1
 both  truth and life1 addressed1 if we 
may use the expression1 to that         
inscrutable instinct of the imagination 
which conducts us to  the knowledge of  
all invisible realities4    ,a distinct 
apprehension of the reality and of the  
office of this  important principle1 we 

cannot but think1 will enable us to     
ascertain  with some degree of          
precision1 at least so far as relates to
 art1  the true limits of the           
,possible1--the sphere1 as premised1 of 
,ideal  ,invention4    ,as to what some 
have called our creative powers1 we take
 it  for granted that no correct thinker
 has ever applied such expressions      
literally4 ,strictly speaking1 we can   
make nothing3 we can  only construct4   
,but how vast a theatre is here laid    
open to the  constructive powers of the 
finite creature2 where the physical eye 
is  permitted to travel for millions and
 millions of miles1 while that of  the  
mind may1 swifter than light1 follow out
 the journey1 from star to  star1 till  
it falls back on itself with the        
humbling conviction that  the           
measureless journey is then but begun6  
,it is needless to dwell on  the        
immeasurable mass of materials which a  
world like this may supply  to the      
,artist4    ,the very thought of its    

vastness darkens into wonder4 ,yet how  
much  deeper the wonder1 when the       
created mind looks into itself1 and     
contemplates the power of impressing its
 thoughts on all things  visible2 nay1  
of giving the likeness of life to things
 inanimate2 and1  still more marvellous1
 by the mere combination of words or    
colors1 of  evolving into shape its own 
,idea1 till some unknown form1 having no
  type in the actual1 is made to seem to
 us an organized being4 ,when  such is  
the result of any unknown combination1  
then it is that we  achieve the         
,possible4 ,and here the ,realizing     
,principle may strictly be  said to     
prove itself4    ,that such an effect   
should follow a cause which we know to  
be purely  imaginary1 supposes1 as we   
have said1 something in ourselves which 
holds1 of necessity1 a predetermined    
relation to every object either         
outwardly existing or projected from the
 mind1 which we thus recognize  as true4
 ,if so1 then the ,possible and the     

,ideal are convertible terms2  having   
their existence1 ab initio1 in the      
nature of the mind4  ,the soundness of  
this inference is also supported        
negatively1 as just  observed1 by the   
opposite result1 as in the case of those
 fantastic  combinations1 which we      
sometimes meet with both in ,poetry and 
,painting1 and which we do not hesitate 
to pronounce unnatural1 that  is1 false4
    ,and here we would not be understood
 as implying the prexistence of  all    
possible forms1 as so many patterns1 but
 only of that  constructive ,power which
 imparts its own ,truth to the unseen   
real1 and1 under certain conditions1    
reflects the image or  semblance of its 
truth on all things imagined2 and which 
must be  assumed in order to account for
 the phenomena presented in the         
frequent coincident effect between the  
real and the feigned4 ,nor does  the    
absence of consciousness in particular  
individuals1 as to this  ,power in      
themselves1 fairly affect its           

universality1 at least  potentially3    
since by the same rule there would be   
equal ground for  denying the existence 
of any faculty of the mind which is of  
slow or  gradual developement2 all that 
we may reasonably infer in such cases   
is1 that the whole mind is not yet      
revealed to itself4 ,in some of the     
greatest artists1 the inventive powers  
have been of late developement2  as in  
,claude1 and the sculptor ,falconet4    
,and can any one believe that1  while   
the latter was hewing his master's      
marble1 and the former making  pastry1  
either of them was conscious of the     
sublime ,ideas which  afterwards took   
form for the admiration of the world8   
,when ,raffaelle1  then a youth1 was    
selected to execute the noble works     
which now live  on the walls of the     
,vatican1 he had done little or nothing1
 says  ,reynolds1 to justify so high a  
trust4 ,nor could he have been  certain1
 from what he knew of himself1 that he  
was equal to the task4  ,he could only  

hope to succeed2 and his hope was no    
doubt founded on  his experience of the 
progressive developement of his mind in 
former  efforts2 rationally concluding1 
that the originally seeming blank  from 
which had arisen so many admirable forms
 was still teeming with  others1 that   
only wanted the occasion1 or excitement1
 to come forth at  his bidding4    ,to  
return to that which1 as the            
interpreting medium of his thoughts  and
 conceptions1 connects the artist with  
his fellow-men1 we remark1  that only on
 the ground of some self-realizing      
power1 like what  we have termed ,poetic
 ,truth1 could what we call the ,ideal  
ever be  intelligible4    ,that some    
such power is inherent and fundamental  
in our nature1 though  differenced in   
individuals by more or less activity1   
seems more  especially confirmed in this
 latter branch of the subject1 where the
  phenomena presented are exclusively of
 the ,possible4 ,indeed1 we cannot      
conceive how without it there could ever

 be such a thing as true ,art2  for what
 might be received as such in one age   
might also be overruled  in the next3 as
 we know to be the case with most things
 depending on  opinion4 ,but1 happily   
for ,art1 if once established on this   
immutable  base1 there it must rest3 and
 rest unchanged1 amidst the endless     
fluctuations of manners1 habits1 and    
opinions2 for its truth of  a thousand  
years is as the truth of yesterday4     
,hence the beings  described by ,homer1 
,shakspeare1 and ,milton are as true to 
us now1 as  the recent characters of    
,scott4 ,nor is it the least            
characteristic  of this important       
,truth1 that the only thing needed for  
its full  reception is simply its       
presence1--being its own evidence4      
,how otherwise could such a being as    
,caliban ever be true to us8 ,we have   
never seen his race2 nay1 we knew not   
that such a creature could  exist1 until
 he started upon us from the mind of    
,shakspeare4 ,yet who  ever stopped to  

ask if he were a real being8 ,his       
existence to the mind  is instantly     
felt2--not as a matter of faith1 but of 
fact1 and a fact1  too1 which the       
imagination cannot get rid of if it     
would1 but which must  ever remain      
there1 verifying itself1 from the first 
to the last moment  of consciousness4   
,from whatever point we view this       
singular creature1  his reality is felt4
 ,his very language1 his habits1 his    
feelings1  whenever they recur to us1   
are all issues from a living thing1     
acting  upon us1 nay1 forcing the mind1 
in some instances1 even to speculate on 
his nature1 till it finds itself        
classing him in the chain of being as   
the intermediate link between man and   
the brute4 ,and this we do1 not by  an  
ingenious effort1 but almost by         
involuntary induction2 for we  perceive 
speech and intellect1 and yet without a 
soul4 ,what but an  intellectual brute  
could have uttered the imprecations of  
,caliban8 ,they  would not be natural in

 man1 whether savage or civilized4 ,hear
 him1 in  his wrath against ,prospero   
and ,miranda3--      ,a wicked dew as   
e'er my mother brushed    ,with raven's 
feather from unwholesome fen1    ,light 
on you both6    ,the wild malignity of  
this curse1 fierce as it is1 yet wants  
the moral  venom1 the devilish leaven1  
of a consenting spirit3 it is all but   
human4    ,to this we may add a similar 
example1 from our own art1 in the ,puck1
  or ,robin ,goodfellow1 of ,sir ,joshua
 ,reynolds4 ,who can look at this       
exquisite little creature1 seated on its
 toadstool cushion1 and not  acknowledge
 its prerogative of life1--that         
mysterious influence which  in spite of 
the stubborn understanding masters the  
mind1--sending  it back to days long    
past1 when care was but a dream1 and its
 most  serious business a childish      
frolic8 ,but we no longer think of      
childhood as the past1 still less as an 
abstraction2 we see it  embodied before 
us1 in all its mirth and fun and glee2  

and the grave  man becomes again a      
child1 to feel as a child1 and to follow
 the  little enchanter through all his  
wiles and never-ending labyrinth of     
pranks4 ,what can be real1 if that is   
not which so takes us out of  our       
present selves1 that the weight of years
 falls from us as a  garment1--that the 
freshness of life seems to begin anew1  
and the  heart and the fancy1 resuming  
their first joyous consciousness1 to    
launch again into this moving world1 as 
on a sunny sea1 whose pliant  waves     
yield to the touch1 yet1 sparkling and  
buoyant1 carry them  onward in their    
merry gambols8 ,where all the purposes  
of reality are  answered1 if there be no
 philosophy in admitting1 we see no     
wisdom in  disputing it4    ,of the     
immutable nature of this peculiar       
,truth1 we have a like  instance in the 
,farnese ,hercules2 the work of the     
,grecian sculptor  ,glycon1--we had     
almost said his immortal offspring4     
,since the time of  its birth1 cities   

and empires1 even whole nations1 have   
disappeared1  giving place to others1   
more or less barbarous or civilized2 yet
 these  are as nothing to the countless 
revolutions which have marked  the      
interval in the manners1 habits1 and    
opinions of men4 ,is it  reasonable1    
then1 to suppose that any thing not     
immutable in its  nature could possibly 
have withstood such continual           
fluctuation8  ,but how have all these   
changes affected this visible image of  
,truth8 ,in no wise2 not a jot2 and     
because what is true is  independent of 
opinion3 it is the same to us now as it 
was to the men  of the dust of          
antiquity4 ,the unlearned spectator of  
the present day  may not1 indeed1 see in
 it the ,demigod of ,greece2 but he can 
never  mistake it for a mere            
exaggeration of the human form2 though  
of mortal  mould1 he cannot doubt its   
possession of more than mortal powers2  
he  feels its essential life1 for he    
feels before it as in the  stirring     

presence of a superior being4           
,perhaps the attempt to give form and   
substance to a pure ,idea was  never so 
perfectly accomplished as in this       
wonderful figure4 ,who has  ever seen   
the ocean in repose1 in its awful sleep1
 that smooths it  like glass1 yet cannot
 level its unfathomed swell8 ,so seems  
to us the  repose of this tremendous    
personification of strength3 the        
laboring  eye heaves on its slumbering  
sea of muscles1 and trembles like a     
skiff  as it passes over them3 but the  
silent intimations of the spirit        
beneath at length become audible2 the   
startled imagination hears it  in its   
rage1 sees it in motion1 and sees its   
resistless might in  the passive wrecks 
that follow the uproar4 ,and this from a
 piece of  marble1 cold1 immovable1     
lifeless6 ,surely there is that in man1 
which  the senses cannot reach1 nor the 
plumb of the understanding sound4       
,let us turn now to the ,apollo called  
,belvedere4 ,in this supernal  being1   

the human form seems to have been       
assumed as if to make visible  the      
harmonious confluence of the pure ideas 
of grace1 fleetness1 and  majesty2 nor  
do we think it too fanciful to add      
celestial splendor2  for such1 in       
effect1 are the thoughts which crowd1 or
 rather rush1  into the mind on first   
beholding it4 ,who that saw it in what  
may be  called the place of its glory1  
the ,gallery of ,napoleon1 ever thought 
of it as a man1 much less as a statue2  
but did not feel rather as if  the      
vision before him were of another       
world1--of one who had just  lighted on 
the earth1 and with a step so ethereal1 
that the next  instant he would vault   
into the air8 ,if ,i may be permitted to
 recall  the impression which it made on
 myself1 ,i know not that ,i could      
better  describe it than as a sudden    
intellectual flash1 filling the whole   
mind with light1--and light in motion4  
,it seemed to the mind what the  first  
sight of the sun is to the senses1 as it

 emerges from the ocean2  when from a   
point of light the whole orb at once    
appears to bound from  the waters1 and  
to dart its rays1 as by a visible       
explosion1 through  the profound of     
space4 ,but1 as the deified ,sun1 how   
completely is the  conception verified  
in the thoughts that follow the         
effulgent original  and its marble      
counterpart6 ,perennial youth1 perennial
 brightness1  follow them both4 ,who can
 imagine the old age of the sun8 ,as    
soon  may we think of an old ,apollo4   
,now all this may be ascribed to the    
imagination of the beholder4            
,granted1--yet will it not thus be      
explained away4 ,for that is the very   
faculty addressed by every work  of     
,genius1--whose nature is suggestive2   
and only when it  excites to or awakens 
congenial thoughts and emotions1 filling
 the  imagination with corresponding    
images1 does it attain its proper end4  
,the false and the commonplace can never
 do this4    ,it were easy to multiply  

similar examples2 the bare mention of a 
single name in modern art might conjure 
up a host1--the name of  ,michael       
,angelo1 the mighty sovereign of the    
,ideal1 than whom no one  ever trod so  
near1 yet so securely1 the dizzy brink  
of the ,impossible4    ,of ,unity1 the  
fourth and last characteristic1 we shall
 say but little2  for we know in truth  
little or nothing of the law which      
governs  it3 indeed1 all that we know   
but amounts to this1--that1 wherever    
existing1 it presents to the mind the   
,idea of a ,whole1--which is  itself a  
mystery4 ,for what answer can we give to
 the question1 ,what  is a ,whole8 ,if  
we reply1 ,that which has neither more  
nor less than it  ought to have1 we do  
not advance a step towards a definite   
notion2 for  the rule 7if there be one7 
is yet undiscovered1 by which  to       
measure either the too much or the too  
little4 ,nevertheless1  incomprehensible
 as it certainly is1 it is what the mind
 will not  dispense with in a work of   

,art2 nay1 it will not concede even a   
right  to the name to any production    
where this is wanting4 ,nor is it a     
sound  objection1 that we also receive  
pleasure from many things which seem  to
 us fragmentary2 for instance1 from     
actual views in ,nature1--as we  shall  
hope to show in another place4 ,it is   
sufficient at present1  that1 in        
relation to ,art1 the law of the        
imagination demands a whole2  in order  
to which not a single part must be felt 
to be wanting2 all  must be there1      
however imperfectly rendered2 nay1 such 
is the craving  of this active faculty1 
that1 be they but mere hints1 it will   
often  fill them out to the desired end2
 the only condition being1 that the     
part hinted be founded in truth4 ,it is 
well known to artists1 that a  sketch1  
consisting of little more than hints1   
will frequently produce  the desired    
effect1 and by the same means1--the     
hints being true so  far as expressed1  
and without an hiatus4 ,but let the     

artist attempt to  finish his sketch1   
that is1 to fill out the parts1 and     
suppose  him deficient in the necessary 
skill1 the consequence must be1 that    
the true hints1 becoming transformed to 
elaborate falsehoods1 will  be all at   
variance1 while the revolted imagination
 turns away with  disgust4 ,nor is this 
a thing of rare occurrence3 indeed1 he  
is a most  fortunate artist1 who has    
never had to deplore a well-hinted whole
  thus reduced to fragments4    ,these  
are facts2 from which we may learn1 that
 with less than a whole1  either already
 wrought1 or so indicated that the      
excited imagination  can of itself      
complete it1 no genuine response will   
ever be given to  any production of man4
 ,and we learn from it also this twofold
 truth2  first1 that the ,idea of a     
,whole contains in itself a prexisting  
law2  and1 secondly1 that ,art1 the     
peculiar product of the ,imagination1 is
  one of its true and predetermined     
ends4    ,as to its practical           

application1 it were fruitless to       
speculate4 ,it  applies itself1 even as 
truth1 both in action and reaction1     
verifying  itself3 and our minds submit1
 as if it had said1 ,there is nothing   
wanting2 so1 in the converse1 its dictum
 is absolute when it announces  a       
deficiency4    ,to return to the        
objection1 that we often receive        
pleasure from many  things in ,nature   
which seem to us fragmentary1 we        
observe1 that nothing in  ,nature can be
 fragmentary1 except in the seeming1 and
 then1 too1 to the  understanding       
only1--to the feelings never2 for a     
grain of sand1 no less  than a planet1  
being an essential part of that mighty  
whole which we call  the universe1      
cannot be separated from the ,idea of   
the world without a  positive act of the
 reflective faculties1 an act of        
volition2 but until  then even a grain  
of sand cannot cease to imply it4 ,to   
the mere  understanding1 indeed1 even   
the greatest extent of actual objects   

which  the finite creature can possibly 
imagine must ever fall short of the vast
  works of the ,creator4 ,yet we        
nevertheless can1 and do1 apprehend the 
existence of the universe4 ,now we would
 ask here1 whether the influence of  a  
real1--and the epithet here is not      
unimportant1--whether the influence  of 
a real ,whole is at no time felt without
 an act of consciousness1 that  is1     
without thinking of a whole4 ,is this   
impossible8 ,is it altogether out  of   
experience8 ,we have already shown 7as  
we think7 that no unmodified  copy of   
actual objects1 whether single or       
multifarious1 ever satisfies  the       
imagination1--which imperatively demands
 a something more1 or at least          
different4 ,and yet we often find that  
the very objects from which these       
copies are made do satisfy us4 ,how and 
why is this8 ,a question more  easily   
put than answered4 ,we may suggest1     
however1 what appears to us a  clew1    
that in abler hands may possibly lead to

 its solution2 namely1 the  fact1 that1 
among the innumerable emotions of a     
pleasurable kind derived  from the      
actual1 there is not one1 perhaps1 which
 is strictly confined to  the objects   
before us1 and which we do not1 either  
directly or indirectly1  refer to       
something beyond and not present4 ,now  
have we at all times a  distinct        
consciousness of the things referred to8
 ,are they not rather more  often vague1
 and only indicated in some undefined   
feeling8 ,nay1 is its  source more      
intelligible where the feeling is more  
definite1 when taking  the form of a    
sense of harmony1 as from something that
 diffuses1 yet  deepens1 unbroken in its
 progress through endless variations1   
the melody  as it were of the           
pleasurable object8 ,who has never felt1
 under certain  circumstances1 an       
expansion of the heart1 an elevation of 
mind1 nay1 a  striving of the whole     
being to pass its limited bounds1 for   
which he could  find no adequate        

solution in the objects around him1--the
 apparent cause8  ,or who can account   
for every mood that thralls him1--at    
times like one  entranced in a dream by 
airs from ,paradise1--at other times    
steeped in  darkness1 when the spirit of
 discord seems to marshal his every     
thought1  one against another8          
,whether it be that the ,living         
,principle1 which permeates all things  
throughout the physical world1 cannot be
 touched in a single point  without     
conducting to its centre1 its source1   
and confluence1 thus  giving by a part1 
though obscurely and indefinitely1 a    
sense of the  whole1--we know not4 ,but 
this we may venture to assert1 and on no
  improbable ground1--that a ray of     
light is not more continuously  linked  
in its luminous particles than our moral
 being with the  whole moral universe4  
,if this be so1 may it not give us1 in a
 faint  shadowing at least1 some        
intimation of the many real1 though     
unknown  relations1 which everywhere    

surround and bear upon us8 ,in the      
deeper  emotions1 we have1 sometimes1   
what seems to us a fearful proof of it4 
,but let us look at it negatively2 and  
suppose a case where this chain  is     
broken1--of a human being who is thus   
cut off from all possible  sympathies1  
and shut up1 as it were1 in the hopeless
 solitude of  his own mind4 ,what is    
this horrible avulsion1 this            
impenetrable  self-imprisonment1 but the
 appalling state of despair8 ,and what  
if we should see it realized in some    
forsaken outcast1 and hear his  forlorn 
cry1 ,alone6 alone6 while to his living 
spirit that single  word is all that is 
left him to fill the blank of space8 ,in
 such a  state1 the very proudest       
autocrat would yearn for the sympathy of
 the  veriest wretch4    ,it would seem1
 then1 since this living cement which is
 diffused  through nature1 binding all  
things in one1 so that no part can be   
contemplated that does not1 of          
necessity1 even though unconsciously to 

us1 act on the mind with reference to   
the whole1--since this1 as we  find1    
cannot be transferred to any copy of the
 actual1 it must needs  follow1 if we   
would imitate ,nature in its true       
effects1 that recourse  must be had to  
another1 though similar principle1 which
 shall so  pervade our production as to 
satisfy the mind with an efficient      
equivalent4 ,now1 in order to this there
 are two conditions required3  first1   
the personal modification1 7already     
discussed7 of every  separate           
part1--which may be considered as its   
proper life2 and1  secondly1 the uniting
 of the parts by such an interdependence
 that  they shall appear to us as       
essential1 one to another1 and all to   
each4  ,when this is done1 the result is
 a whole4 ,but how do we obtain  this   
mutual dependence8 ,we refer the        
questioner to the law of                
,harmony1--that mysterious power1 which 
is only apprehended by its  imperative  
effect4    ,but1 be the above as it may1

 we know it to be a fact1 that1 whilst  
nothing in ,nature ever affects us as   
fragmentary1 no unmodified copy  of her 
by man is ever felt by us as otherwise4 
,we have thus--and1 we trust1 on no     
fanciful ground--endeavoured to         
establish the real and distinctive      
character of ,art4 ,and1 if our         
argument be admitted1 it will be found  
to have brought us to the  following    
conclusions3--first1 that the true      
ground of all originality  lies in the  
individualizing law1 that is1 in that   
modifying  power1 which causes the      
difference between man and man as to    
their  mental impressions2 secondly1    
that only in a true reproduction        
consists its evidence2 thirdly1 that in 
the involuntary response from  other    
minds lies the truth of the evidence2   
fourthly1 that in order  to this        
response there must therefore exist some
 universal kindred  principle1 which is 
essential to the human mind1 though     
widely  differenced in the degree of its

 activity in different individuals2  and
 finally1 that this principle1 which we 
have here denominated  ,human or ,poetic
 ,truth1 being independent both of the  
will and of the  reflective faculties1  
is in its nature imperative1 to affirm  
or deny1 in relation to every production
 pretending to ,art1 from the  simple   
imitation of the actual to the probable1
 and from the probable  to the          
possible2--in one word1 that the several
 characteristics1  ,originality1 ,poetic
 ,truth1 ,invention1 each imply a       
something not  inherent in the objects  
imitated1 but which must emanate alone  
from  the mind of the ,artist4    ,and  
here it may be well to notice an        
apparent objection1 that will  probably 
occur to many1 especially among         
painters4 ,how1 then1 they may  ask1 if 
the principle in question be universal  
and imperative1 do we  account for the  
mistakes which even great ,artists have 
sometimes made  as to the realizing of  
their conceptions8 ,we hope to show1    

that1 so  far from opposing1 the very   
fact on which the objection is grounded 
will be found1 on the contrary1 to      
confirm our doctrine4 ,were such        
mistakes uniformly permanent1 they      
might1 perhaps1 have a rational  weight2
 but that this is not the case is       
clearly evident from the  additional    
fact of the change in the ,artist's     
judgment1 which almost  invariably      
follows any considerable interval of    
time4 ,nay1 should  a case occur where a
 similar mistake is never               
rectified1--which is  hardly            
probable1--we might well consider it as 
one of those exceptions  that prove the 
rule1--of which we have abundant        
examples in other  relations1 where a   
true principle is so feebly developed as
 to be  virtually excluded from the     
sphere of consciousness1 or1 at least1  
where its imperfect activity is for all 
practical purposes a mere  nullity4     
,but1 without supposing any mental      
weakness1 the case may  be resolved by  

the no less formidable obstacle of a too
 inveterate  memory3 and there have been
 such1--where a thought or an image once
  impressed is never erased4 ,in ,art it
 is certainly an advantage to be  able  
sometimes to forget4 ,nor is this a new 
notion2 for ,horace1 it  seems1 must    
have had the same1 or he would hardly   
have recommended so  long a time as nine
 years for the revision of a poem4 ,that
 ,titian  also was not unaware of the   
advantage of forgetting is recorded by  
,boschini1 who relates1 that1 during the
 progress of a work1 he was  in the     
habit of occasionally turning it to the 
wall1 until it had  somewhat faded from 
his memory1 so that1 on resuming his    
labor1 he  might see with fresh eyes2   
when 7to use his expression7 he would   
criticize the picture with as much      
severity as his worst enemy4 ,if1       
instead of the picture on the canvas1   
,boschini had referred to that in  his  
mind1 as what ,titian sought to forget1 
he would have been1 as  we think1 more  

correct4 ,this practice is not uncommon 
with ,artists1  though few1 perhaps1 are
 aware of its real object4    ,it has   
doubtless the appearance of a singular  
anomaly in the judgment1  that it should
 not always be as correct in relation to
 our own works  as to those of another4 
,yet nothing is more common than perfect
 truth  in the one case1 and complete   
delusion in the other4 ,our surprise1   
however1 would be sensibly diminished1  
if we considered that the  reasoning or 
reflective faculties have nothing to do 
with either case4  ,it is the ,principle
 of which we have been speaking1 the    
life1 or truth  within1 answering to the
 life1 or rather its sign1 before us1   
that  here sits in judgment4 ,still the 
question remains unanswered2 and  again 
we are asked1 ,why is it that our own   
works do not always respond  with equal 
veracity8 ,simply because we do not     
always see  them1--that is1 as they     
are1--but1 looking as it were through   
them1 see only their originals in the   

mind2 the mind here acting1  instead of 
being acted upon4 ,and thus it is1 that 
an ,artist may  suppose his conception  
realized1 while that which gave life to 
it in  his mind is outwardly wanting4   
,but let time erase1 as we know it often
  does1 the mental image1 and its       
embodied representative will then       
appear to its author as it is1--true or 
false4 ,there is one case1  however1    
where the effect cannot deceive2 namely1
 where it comes upon  us as from a      
foreign source2 where our own seems no  
longer ours4 ,this1  indeed1 is rare2   
and powerful must be the pictured       
,truth1 that1 as  soon as embodied1     
shall thus displace its own original4   
,nor does it in any wise affect the     
essential nature of the ,principle  in  
question1 or that of the other          
,characteristics1 that the effect  which
 follows is not always of a pleasurable 
kind2 it may even be  disagreeable4     
,what we contend for is simply its      
reality2 the  character of the          

perception1 like that of every other    
truth1 depending  on the individual     
character of the percipient4 ,the common
 truth of  existence in a living person1
 for instance1 may be to us either a    
matter of interest or indifference1 nay1
 even of disgust4 ,so also may  it be   
with what is true in ,art4 ,temperament1
 ignorance1 cultivation1  vulgarity1 and
 refinement have all1 in a greater or   
less degree1 an  influence in our       
impressions2 so that any reality may be 
to us either  an offence or a pleasure1 
yet still a reality4 ,in ,art1 as in    
,nature1  the ,true is imperative1 and  
must be felt1 even where a timid1 a     
proud1 or a selfish motive refuses to   
acknowledge it4    ,these last remarks  
very naturally lead us to another       
subject1 and one  of no minor           
importance2 we mean1 the education of an
 ,artist2 on this1  however1 we shall at
 present add but a few words4 ,we use   
the word  education in its widest sense1
 as involving not only the growth  and  

expansion of the intellect1 but a       
corresponding developement of  the moral
 being2 for the wisdom of the intellect 
is of little worth1  if it be not in    
harmony with the higher spiritual truth4
 ,nor will a  moderate1 incidental      
cultivation suffice to him who would    
become a  great ,artist4 ,he must sound 
no less than the full depths of his     
being  ere he is fitted for his calling2
 a calling in its very condition  lofty1
 demanding an agent by whom1 from the   
actual1 living world1 is  to be wrought 
an imagined consistent world of         
,art1--not fantastic1  or objectless1   
but having a purpose1 and that purpose1 
in all its  figments1 a distinct        
relation to man's nature1 and all that  
pertains  to it1 from the humblest      
emotion to the highest aspiration2 the  
circle  that bounds it being that only  
which bounds his spirit1--even the      
confines of that higher world1 where    
ideal glimpses of angelic forms  are    
sometimes permitted to his sublimated   

vision4 ,art may1 in truth1  be called  
the human world2 for it is so far the   
work of man1  that his beneficent       
,creator has especially endowed him with
 the powers  to construct it2 and1 if   
so1 surely not for his mere amusement1  
but  as a part 7small though it be7 of  
that mighty plan which the ,infinite    
,wisdom has ordained for the evolution  
of the human spirit2 whereby is         
intended1 not alone the enlargement of  
his sphere of pleasure1 but of  his     
higher capacities of adoration2--as if1 
in the gift1 he had said  unto man1     
,thou shalt know me by the powers ,i    
have given thee4 ,the  calling of an    
,artist1 then1 is one of no common      
responsibility2 and it  well becomes him
 to consider at the threshold1 whether  
he shall assume  it for high and noble  
purposes1 or for the low and licentious4
          ,form4        ,the subject    
proposed for the following discourse is 
the ,human ,form2 a  subject1 perhaps1  
of all others connected with ,art1 the  

most obscured  by vague theories4 ,it is
 one1 at least1 of such acknowledged    
difficulty as to constrain the writer to
 confess1 that he enters  upon it with  
more distrust than hope of success4     
,should he succeed1  however1 in        
disencumbering this perplexed theme of  
some of its useless  dogmas1 it will be 
quite as much as he has allowed himself 
to expect4    ,the object1 therefore1 of
 the present attempt will be to show1   
first1  that the notion of one or more  
standard ,forms1 which shall in all     
cases serve as exemplars1 is essentially
 false1 and of impracticable            
application for any true purpose of     
,art2 secondly1 that the only  approach 
to ,science1 which the subject admits1  
is in a few general  rules relating to  
,stature1 and these1 too1 serving rather
 as  convenient expedients than exact   
guides1 inasmuch as1 in most  cases1    
they allow of indefinite variations2    
and1 thirdly1 that  the only efficient  
,rule must be found in the ,artist's    

mind1--in  those intuitive ,powers1     
which are above1 and beyond1 both the   
senses  and the understanding2 which1   
nevertheless1 are so far from precluding
  knowledge1 as1 on the contrary1 to    
require1 as their effective  condition1 
the widest intimacy with the things     
external1--without  which their very    
existence must remain unknown to the    
,artist himself4    ,supposing1 then1   
certain standard ,forms to have been    
admitted1 it may  not be amiss to take a
 brief view of the nature of the ,being 
to whom  they are intended to be        
applied2 and to consider them more      
especially  as auxiliaries to the       
,artist4    ,in the first place1 we     
observe1 that the purpose of ,art is not
 to  represent any given number of men1 
but the ,human ,race2 and so that the   
representation shall affect us1 not     
indeed as living to the senses1  but as 
true to the mind4 ,in order to this1    
there must be all in  the imitation     
7though it be but hinted7 which the mind

 will recognize  as true to the human   
being3 hence the first business of the  
,artist is  to become acquainted with   
his subject in all its properties4 ,he  
then  naturally inquires1 what is its   
general characteristic2 and his own     
consciousness informs him1 that1 besides
 an animal nature1 there is  also a     
moral intelligence1 and that they       
together form the man4 ,this  important 
truism 7we say important1 for it seems  
to have been  not seldom overlooked7    
makes the foundation of all his future  
observations2 nor can he advance a step 
without continual reference  to this    
double nature4 ,we find him accordingly 
in the daily habit of  mentally         
distinguishing this person from that1 as
 a moral being1 and  of assigning to    
each a separate character2 and this not 
voluntarily1  but simply because he     
cannot avoid it4 ,yet1 by what does he  
presume  to judge of strangers8 ,he will
 probably answer1 ,by their general     
exterior4 ,and what is the inference8   

,there can be but one2 namely1  that    
there must be--at least to him--some    
efficient correspondence  between the   
physical and the moral4 ,this is so     
plain1 that the wonder  is1 how it ever 
came to be doubted4 ,nor is it directly 
denied1 except  by those who from       
habitual disgust reject the guesswork of
 the various  pretenders to scientific  
systems2 yet even these1 no less than   
others1  do practically admit it in     
their common intercourse with the world4
  ,and it cannot be otherwise2 for what 
the ,creator has joined must have  some 
affinity1 although the palpable signs   
may elude our cognizance4  ,and that    
they do elude it1 except perhaps in a   
very slight degree1  is actually the    
case1 as is well proved by the signal   
failure of all  attempts to reduce them 
to a science2 for neither diagram nor   
axiom  has ever yet corrected an        
instinctive impression4 ,but man does   
not  live by science2 he feels1 acts1   
and judges right in a thousand things   

without the consciousness of any rule by
 which he so feels1 acts1 or  judges4   
,and1 happily for him1 he has a surer   
guide than human science  in that       
unknown ,power within him1--without     
which he had been without  knowledge4   
,but of this we shall have occasion to  
speak again in  another part of our     
discourse4    ,though the medium through
 which the soul acts be1 as we have     
said1 elusive  to the senses1--in so far
 as to be irreducible to any distinct   
form1--it  is not therefore the less    
real1 as every one may verify by his own
  experience2 and1 though seemingly     
invisible1 it must nevertheless1        
constituted as we are1 act through the  
physical1 and a physical medium         
expressly constructed for its peculiar  
action2 nay1 it does this  continually1 
without our confounding for a moment the
 soul with its  instrument4 ,who can    
look into the human eye1 and doubt of an
 influence not  of the body8 ,the form  
and color leave but a momentary         

impression1 or1 if  we remember them1 it
 is only as we remember the glass       
through which we  have read the dark    
problems of the sky4 ,but in this       
mysterious organ we  see not even the   
signs of its mystery4 ,we see1 in truth1
 nothing2 for what  is there has neither
 form1 nor symbol1 nor any thing        
reducible to a  sensuous distinctness2  
and yet who can look into it1 and not be
 conscious  of a real though invisible  
presence8 ,in the eye of a brute1 we see
 only a  part of the animal2 it gives us
 little beyond the palpable outward2 at 
most1 it is but the focal point of its  
fierce1 or gentle1 affectionate1 or     
timorous character1--the character of   
the species1 ,but in man1 neither       
gentleness nor fierceness can be more   
than as relative conditions1--the       
outward moods of his unseen spirit2     
while the spirit itself1 that daily  and
 hourly sends forth its good and evil1  
to take shape from the body1  still sits
 in darkness4 ,yet have we that which   

can surely reach it2 even  our own      
spirit4 ,by this it is that we can enter
 into another's soul1 sound  its very   
depths1 and bring up his dark thoughts1 
nay1 place them before  him till he     
starts at himself2 and more1--it is by  
this we know that  even the tangible1   
audible1 visible world is not more real 
than a  spiritual intercourse4 ,and yet 
without the physical organ who can hold 
it8  ,we can never indeed understand1   
but we may not doubt1 that which has its
  power of proof in a single act of     
consciousness4 ,nay1 we may add that we 
cannot even conceive of a soul without a
 correlative form1--though it be  in the
 abstract2 and vice vers4    ,for1 among
 the many impossibilities1 it is not the
 least to look upon  a living human form
 as a thing2 in its pictured copies1 as 
already  shown in a former discourse1 it
 may be a thing1 and a beautiful thing2 
but the moment we conceive of it as     
living1 if it show not a soul1 we  give 
it one by a moral necessity2 and        

according to the outward will be  the   
spirit with which we endow it4 ,no      
poetic being1 supposed of our  species1 
ever lived to the imagination without   
some indication of the  moral2 it is the
 breath of its life3 and this is also   
true in the  converse2 if there be but a
 hint of it1 it will instantly clothe   
itself in a human shape2 for the mind   
cannot separate them4 ,in the  whole    
range of the poetic creations of the    
great master of truth1--we  need hardly 
say ,shakspeare1--not an instance can be
 found where this  condition of life is 
ever wanting2 his men and women all have
 souls4  ,so1 too1 when he peoples the  
air1 though he describe no form1 he     
never  leaves these creatures of the    
brain without a shape1 for he will      
sometimes1 by a single touch of the     
moral1 enable us to supply one4  ,of    
this we have a striking instance in one 
of his most unsubstantial  creations1   
the delicate ,ariel4 ,not an allusion to
 its shape or  figure is made throughout

 the play2 yet we assign it a form on   
its  very first entrance1 as soon as    
,prospero speaks of its refusing to     
comply with the abhorred commands of the
 witch1 ,sycorax4 ,and again1  in the   
fifth act1 when ,ariel1 after recounting
 the sufferings of the  wretched usurper
 and his followers1 gently adds1--      
,your charm so strongly works them1     
,that1 if you now beheld them1 your     
affections    ,would become tender4     
,on which ,prospero remarks1--          
,hast thou1 which art but air1 a touch1 
a feeling    ,of their afflictions8     
,now1 whether ,shakspeare intended it or
 not1 it is not possible after  this for
 the reader to think of ,ariel but in a 
human form2 for slight  as these hints  
are1 if they do not indicate the moral  
affections1 they  at least imply        
something akin to them1 which in a      
manner compels us to  invest the gentle 
,spirit with a general likeness to our  
own physical  exterior1 though1 perhaps1
 as indistinct as the emotion that      

called  for it4    ,we have thus        
considered the human being in his       
complex condition1 of  body and spirit1 
or physical and moral2 showing the      
impossibility of  even thinking of him  
in the one1 to the exclusion of the     
other4 ,we  may1 indeed1 successively   
think first of the form1 and then of    
the moral character1 as we may think of 
any one part of either  analytically2   
but we cannot think of the human being  
except  as a whole4 ,it follows1        
therefore1 as a consequence1 that no    
imitation of man can be true which is   
not addressed to us in this  double     
condition4 ,and here it may be observed1
 that in ,art there is  this additional 
requirement1 that there be no           
discrepancy between the  form and the   
character intended1--or rather1 that the
 form must  express the character1 or it
 expresses nothing3 a necessity which is
  far from being general in actual      
nature4 ,but of this hereafter4    ,let 
us now endeavour to form some general   

notion of ,man in his various  aspects1 
as presented by the myriads which people
 the earth4 ,but whose  imagination is  
equal to the task1--to the setting in   
array before it  the countless          
multitudes1 each individual in his      
proper form1 his  proper character8     
,were this possible1 we should stand    
amazed at the  interminable differences1
 the hideous variety2 and that1 too1 no 
less  in the moral1 than in the         
physical2 nay1 so opposite and appalling
 in  the former as hardly to be figured 
by a chain of animals1 taking for  the  
extremes the fierce and filthy hyena and
 the inoffensive lamb4  ,this is man in 
the concrete1--to which1 according to   
some1 is to be  applied the abstract    
,ideal6    ,now let us attempt to       
conceive of a being that shall represent
 all the  diversities of mind1          
affections1 and dispositions1 that fleck
 this  heterogeneous mass of humanity1  
and then to conceive of a ,form that    
shall be in such perfect affinity with  

it as to indicate them all4 ,the  bare  
statement of the proposition shows its  
absurdity4 ,yet this must  be the office
 of a ,standard ,form2 and this it must 
do1 or it will be  a falsehood4 ,nor    
should we find it easier with any given 
number1 with  twenty1 fifty1 nay1 an    
hundred 7so called7 generic forms4 ,we  
do not  hesitate to affirm1 that1 were  
it possible1 it would be quite as easy  
with one as with a thousand4    ,but to 
this it may be replied1 that the        
,standard ,form was never  intended to  
represent the vicious or degraded1 but  
man in his most  perfect developement of
 mind1 affections1 and body4 ,this is   
certainly  narrowing its office1 and1   
unfortunately1 to the representing of   
but  one man2 consequently1 of no       
possible use beyond to the ,painter  or 
,sculptor of ,humanity1 since every     
repetition of this perfect form  would  
be as the reflection of one multiplied  
by mirrors4 ,but such  repetitions1 it  
may be further answered1 were never     

contemplated1 that  ,form being given   
only as an exemplar of the highest1 to  
serve as a  guide in our approach to    
excellence2 as we could not else know to
 a  certainty to what degree of         
elevation our conceptions might rise4   
,still1 in that case its use would be   
limited to a single object1 that  is1 to
 itself1 its own perfectness2 it would  
not aid the ,artist in the  intermediate
 ascent to it1--unless it contained     
within itself all the  gradations of    
human character2 which no one will      
pretend4    ,but let us see how far it  
is possible to realize the ,idea of a   
perfect ,human ,form4    ,we have       
already seen that the mere physical     
structure is not man1 but  only a part2 
the ,idea of man including also an      
internal moral being4  ,the external1   
then1 in an actually disjoined state1   
cannot1  strictly speaking1 be the human
 form1 but only a diagram of it4 ,it is1
  in fact1 but a partial condition1     
becoming human only when united with    

the internal moral2 which1 in proof of  
the union1 it must of necessity         
indicate4 ,if we would have a true ,idea
 of it1 therefore1 it must be as  a     
whole2 consequently1 the perfect        
physical exterior must have1 as an      
essential part1 the perfect moral4 ,now 
come two important questions4  ,first1  
,in what consists ,moral ,perfection8   
,we use the word moral  here 7from a    
want in our language7 in its most       
comprehensive sense1  as including the  
spiritual and the intellectual4 ,with   
respect to that  part of our moral being
 which pertains to the affections1 in   
all their  high relations to ,god and   
man1 we have1 it is true1 a sure and    
holy  guide4 ,in a ,christian land1 the 
humblest individual may answer as       
readily as the most profound scholar1   
and express its perfection in  the      
single word1 ,holiness4 ,but what will  
be the reply in regard to the           
,intellect8 ,for what is a perfect      
,intellect8 ,is it the ,dialectic1 the  

,speculative1 or the ,imaginative8 ,or1 
rather1 would it not include them  all8 
,we proceed next to the ,physical4      
,what1 then1 constitutes its            
,perfection8 ,here1 it might seem1 there
 can be no difficulty1 and the  reply   
will probably be in naming all the      
excellent qualities in our  animal      
nature1 such as strength1 agility1      
fleetness1 with every other  that can be
 thought of4 ,the bare enumeration of   
these few qualities  may serve to show  
the nature of the task2 yet a physically
 perfect  form requires them all2 none  
must be omitted2 it would else be       
imperfect2 nay1 they must not only be   
there1 but all be developed in  their   
highest degrees4 ,we might here exclaim 
with ,hamlet1 though in a  very         
different sense1      ,a combination and
 a form indeed6    ,and yet there is no 
other way to express physical           
perfection4 ,but  can it be so          
expressed8 ,the reader must reply for   
himself4 ,we will1  however1 suppose it 

possible2 still the task is incomplete  
without the  adjustment of these to the 
perfect ,moral1 in the highest known    
degrees  of its several elements4 ,to   
those who can imagine such a form  as   
shall be the sure exponent of such a    
moral being1--and such  it must be1 or  
it will be nothing1--we leave the task  
of constructing  this universal exemplar
 for multitudinous man4 ,we may add1    
however1  one remark2 that1 supposing it
 possible thus to concentrate1 and  with
 equal prominence1 all the qualities of 
the species into one  individual1 it can
 only be done by supplanting            
,providence1 in other  words1 by        
virtually overruling the great principle
 of subordination  so visibly impressed 
on all created life4 ,for although1 as  
we have  elswhere observed1 there can be
 no sound mind 7and the like may be     
affirmed of the whole man71 which is    
deficient in any one essential1  it does
 not therefore follow1 that each of     
these essentials may not be  almost     

indefinitely differenced in the degrees 
of their developement  without impairing
 the human integrity4 ,and such is the  
fact in actual  nature2 nor does this in
 any wise affect the individual         
unity1--as  will be noticed hereafter4  
,we will now briefly examine the        
pretensions of what are called the      
,generic ,forms4 ,and here we are met by
 another important characteristic  of   
the human being1 namely1 his essential  
individuality4    ,it is true that the  
human family1 so called1 is divided into
 many  distinct races1 having each its  
peculiar conformation1 color1 and so    
forth1 which together constitute        
essential differences2 but it is  to be 
remembered that these essentials are all
 physical2 and so  far they are properly
 generic1 as implying a difference in   
kind4  ,but1 though a striking          
difference is also observable in their  
moral  being1 it is by no means of the  
same nature with that which marks  their
 physical condition1 the difference in  

the moral being only of  degree2 for1   
however fierce1 brutal1 stupid1 or      
cunning1 or gentle1  generous1 or       
heroic1 the same characteristics may    
each be paralleled  among ourselves2    
nay1 we could hardly name a vice1 a     
passion1 or  a virtue1 in ,asia1        
,africa1 or ,america1 that has not its  
echo in  civilized ,europe4 ,and what is
 the inference8 ,that climate and       
circumstance1 if such are the causes of 
the physical variety1 have no           
controlling power1 except in degree1    
over the ,moral4 ,does not this         
undeniable fact1 then1 bring us to the  
fair conclusion1 that the moral  being  
has no genera8 ,to affirm otherwise     
would be virtually to  deny its         
responsible condition2 since the law of 
its genus must be  paramount to all     
other laws1--to education1 government1  
religion4 ,nor  can the result be       
evaded1 except by the absurd supposition
 of generic  responsibilities6 ,to us1  
therefore1 it seems conclusive that a   

moral  being1 as a free agent1 cannot be
 subject to a generic law2 nor  could he
 now be--what every man feels himself to
 be1 in spite of  his theory--the       
fearful architect of his own destiny4   
,in one sense1  indeed1 we may admit a  
human genus1--such as every man must be 
in his  individual entireness4    ,man  
has been called a microcosm1 or little  
world4 ,and such1 however  mean and     
contemptible to others1 is man to       
himself2 nay1 such he must  ever be1    
whether he wills it or not4 ,he may     
hate1 he may despise1 yet  he cannot but
 cling to that without which he is not2 
he is the centre  and the circle1 be it 
of pleasure or of pain2 nor can he be   
other4  ,touch him with misery1 and he  
becomes paramount to the whole          
world1--to a thousand worlds2 for the   
beauty and the glory of the  universe   
are as nothing to him who is all        
darkness4 ,then it is that he  will     
feel1 should he have before doubted1    
that he is not a mere  part1 a fraction1

 of his kind1 but indeed a world2 and   
though little  in one sense1 yet a world
 of awful magnitude in its capacity of  
suffering4 ,in one word1 ,man is a      
whole1 an ,individual4    ,if the       
preceding argument be admitted1 it will 
be found to have  relieved the student  
of two delusive dogmas1--and the more   
delusive1  as carrying with them a      
plausible show of science4    ,as to the
 flowery declamations about ,beauty1    
they would not here be  noticed1 were   
they not occasionally met with in works 
of high merit1  and not unfrequently    
mixed up with philosophic truth4 ,if    
they have  any definite meaning1 it     
amounts to this1--that the ,beautiful is
 the  summit of every possible          
excellence6 ,the extravagance1 not to   
say  absurdity1 of such a proposition1  
confounding1 as it does1 all  received  
distinctions1 both in the moral and the 
natural world1 needs  no comment4 ,it is
 hardly to be believed1 however1 that   
the writers in  question could have     

deliberately intended this4 ,it is more 
probable1  that1 in so expressing       
themselves1 they were only giving vent  
to an  enthusiastic feeling1 which we   
all know is generally most vague when   
associated with admiration2 it is not   
therefore strange that the  ardent      
expression of it should partake of its  
vagueness4 ,among the  few critical     
works of authority in which the word is 
so used1 we may  mention the 7in many   
respects admirable7 ,discourses of ,sir 
,joshua  ,reynolds1 where we find the   
following sentence3--,the beauty of  the
 ,hercules is one1 of the ,gladiator    
another1 of the ,apollo another2  which1
 of course1 would present three         
different ,ideas of ,beauty4 ,if  this  
had been said of various animals1       
differing in kind1 the  term so applied 
might1 perhaps1 have been appropriate4  
,but the same  term is here applied to  
objects of the same kind1 differing not 
essentially even in age2 we say age1    
inasmuch as in the three  great         

divisions1 or periods1 of human life1   
namely1 childhood1  youth1 and maturity1
 the characteristic conditions of each  
are so  essentially distinct1 as        
virtually to separate them into         
positive kinds4    ,but it is no less   
idle than invidious to employ our time  
in  overturning the errors of others2 if
 we establish ,truth1 they will  fall of
 themselves4 ,there cannot be two right 
sides to any question2  and1 if we are  
right1 what is opposed to us must of    
necessity he  wrong4 ,whether we are so 
or not must be determined by those who  
admit  or reject what has already been  
advanced on the subject of ,beauty1 in  
the first ,discourse4 ,it will be       
remembered1 that1 in the course of our  
argument there1 we were brought to the  
conclusion1 that ,beauty was  the ,idea 
of a certain physical condition1 both   
general and  ultimate2 general1 as      
presiding over objects of many kinds1   
and  ultimate1 as being the perfection  
of that peculiar condition in  each1 and

 therefore not applicable to1 or        
representing1 its degrees  in any2      
which1 as approximations only to the one
 supreme ,idea1 should  truly be        
distinguished by other terms4           
,accordingly1 we cannot1  strictly      
speaking1 say of two persons of the same
 age and sex1  differing from each      
other1 that they are equally beautiful4 
,we hear  this1 indeed1 almost daily2 it
 is nevertheless not the true expression
  of the actual impression made on the  
speaker1 though he may not take  the    
trouble to examine and compare them4    
,but let him do so1 and we  doubt not   
that he would find the one to rise 7in  
however slight a  degree7 above the     
other2 and1 if he did not assign a      
different term  to the lower1 it would  
be only because he was not in the habit 
of  marking1 or did not think it worth  
his while to note1 such nice            
distinctions4    ,if there is a first   
and a last to any thing1 the            
intermediates can be neither one nor the

 other2 and1 if we so name  them1 we    
speak falsely4 ,it is no less so with   
,beauty1 which1 being at  the head1 or  
first in a series1 admits no            
transference of its title4  ,we mean1 if
 speaking strictly2 which1 however1 we  
freely acknowledge1  no one can2 but    
that is owing to the insufficiency of   
language1 which  in no dialect could    
supply a hundredth part of the terms    
needed to  mark every minute shade of   
difference4 ,perhaps no subject         
requiring a  wider nomenclature has one 
so contracted2 and the consequence is1  
that no subject is more obscured by     
vague expressions4 ,but it is the       
business of the ,artist1 if he cannot   
form to himself the corresponding       
terms1 to be prepared at least to       
perceive and to note these various      
shades4 ,we do not say1 that an actual  
acquaintance with all the nice          
distinctions is an essential requisite1 
but only that it will not be  altogether
 useless to be aware of their existence2

 at any rate1 it  may serve to shield   
him from the annoyance of false         
criticism1 when  censured for wanting   
beauty where its presence would have    
been an  impertinence4    ,before we    
quit the subject1 it may not be amiss to
 observe1 that1 in  the preceding       
remarks1 our object has been not so much
 to insist on  correct speaking as      
correct thinking4 ,the poverty of       
language1  as already admitted1 has made
 the former impossible2 but1 though     
constrained in this1 as in many other   
cases where a subordinate is put  for   
its principal1 to apply the term        
,beautiful to its various degrees1  yet 
a right apprehension of what ,beauty is 
may certainly  prevent its              
misapplication as to other objects      
having no relation to  it4 ,nor is this 
a small matter where the avoiding of    
confusion is an  object desirable2 and  
there is clearly some difference between
 an  approach to precision and utter    
vagueness4    ,we have now to consider  

how far the ,correspondence between the 
outward form and the inward being1 which
 is assumed by the ,artist1 is          
supported by fact4    ,in a fair        
statement1 then1 of facts1 it cannot be 
denied that with  the mass of men the   
outward intimation of character is      
certainly very  faint1 with many        
obscure1 and with some ambiguous1 while 
with others  it has often seemed to     
express the very reverse of the truth4  
,perhaps  a stronger instance of the    
latter could hardly occur than that     
cited  in a former discourse in         
illustration of the physical relation of
  ,beauty2 where it was shown that the  
first and natural impression from  a    
beautiful form was not only displaced1  
but completely reversed1 by  the        
revolting discovery of a moral          
discrepancy4 ,but while we admit1 on    
the threshold1 that the ,correspondence 
in question cannot be sustained  as     
universally obvious1 it is1             
nevertheless1 not apprehended that this 

admission can affect our argument1      
which1 though in part grounded  on      
special cases of actual coincidence1 is 
yet supported by other  evidences1 which
 lead us to regard all such             
discrepancies rather as  exceptions1 and
 as so many deviations from the original
 law of our  nature1 nay1 which lead us 
also rationally to infer at least a     
future1  potential correspondence in    
every individual4 ,to the past1 indeed1 
we  cannot appeal2 neither can the past 
be cited against us1 since little  is   
known of the early history of our race  
but a chronicle of their  actions2 of   
their outward appearance scarcely any   
thing1 certainly not  enough to warrant 
a decision one way or the other4 ,should
 we assume1  then1 the ,correspondence  
as a primeval law1 who shall gainsay it8
 ,it  is not1 however1 so asserted4 ,we 
may nevertheless hold it as a matter  of
 faith2 and simply as such it is here   
submitted4 ,but faith of  any kind must 
have some ground to rest on1 either real

 or supposed1  either that of authority 
or of inference4 ,our ground of faith1  
then1  in the present instance1 is in   
the universal desire amongst men to     
realize the ,correspondence4 ,nothing is
 more common than1  on hearing or       
reading of any remarkable character1 to 
find this  instinctive craving1 if we   
may so term it1 instantly awakened1 and 
actively employed in picturing to the   
imagination some corresponding  form2   
nor is any disappointment more general1 
than that which follows  the detection  
of a discrepancy on actual acquaintance4
 ,indeed1 we can  hardly deem it rash1  
should we rest the validity of this     
universal  desire on the common         
experience of any individual1 taken at  
random1--provided only that he has a    
particle of imagination4 ,nor  is its   
action dependent on our caprice or will4
 ,ask any person of  ordinary           
cultivation1 not to say refinement1 how 
it is with him1  when1 his imagination  
has not been forestalled by some        

definite fact2  whether he has never    
found himself involuntarily associating 
the good with the beautiful1 the        
energetic with the strong1 the          
dignified with the ample1 or the        
majestic with the lofty2 the refined    
with the delicate1 the modest with the  
comely2 the base with the  ugly1 the    
brutal with the misshapen1 the fierce   
with the coarse and  muscular1 and so   
on2 there being scarcely a shade of     
character to  which the imagination does
 not affix some corresponding form4     
,in a still more striking form may we   
find the evidence of the law  supposed1 
if we turn to the young1 and especially 
to those of a poetic  temperament1--to  
the sanguine1 the open1 and confiding1  
the creatures  of impulse1 who reason   
best when trusting only to the          
spontaneous  suggestions of feeling4    
,what is more common than implicit faith
 in  their youthful day-dreams1--a faith
 that lives1 though dream after  dream  
vanish into common air when the sorcerer

 ,fact touches their  eyes8 ,and whence 
this pertinacious faith that will not   
die1 but  from a spring of life1 that   
neither custom nor the dry understanding
  can destroy8 ,look at the same ,youth 
at a more advanced age1 when the        
refining intellect has mixed with his   
affections1 adding thought and          
sentiment to every thing attractive1    
converting all things fair to  things   
also of good report4 ,let us turn1 at   
the same time1 to one  still more       
advanced1--even so far as to have       
entered into the  conventional valley of
 dry bones1--one whom the world is      
preparing1  by its daily practical      
lessons1 to enlighten with unbelief4 ,if
 we see  them together1 perhaps we shall
 hear the senior scoff at his younger   
companion as a poetic dreamer1 as a     
hunter after phantoms that never  were1 
nor could be1 in nature3 then may follow
 a homily on the virtues  of experience1
 as the only security against           
disappointment4 ,but there  are some    

hearts that never suffer the mind to    
grow old4 ,and such we  may suppose that
 of the dreamer4 ,if he is one1 too1 who
 is accustomed  to look into            
himself1--not as a reasoner1--but with  
an abiding faith  in his nature1--we    
shall1 perhaps1 hear him                
reply1--,experience1 it is  true1 has   
often brought me disappointment2 yet ,i 
cannot distrust those  dreams1 as you   
call them1 bitterly as ,i have felt     
their passing off2  for ,i feel the     
truth of the source whence they come4   
,they could not  have been so responded 
to by my living nature1 were they but   
phantoms2  they could not have taken    
such forms of truth1 but from a possible
  ground4    ,by the word poetic here1  
we do not mean the visionary or         
fanciful1--for there may be much fancy  
where there is no poetic  feeling1--but 
that sensibility to harmony which marks 
the  temperament of the ,artist1 and    
which is often most active in his       
earlier years4 ,and we refer to such    

natures1 not only as being more         
peculiarly alive to all existing        
affinities1 but as never satisfied  with
 those merely which fall within their   
experience2 ever striving1  on the      
contrary1 as if impelled by instinct1 to
 supply the deficiency  wherever it is  
felt4 ,from such minds proceed what are 
called romantic  imaginings1 but what we
 would call--without intending a        
paradox--the  romance of ,truth4 ,for it
 is impossible that the mind should ever
 have  this perpetual craving for the   
,false4    ,but the desire in question  
is not confined to any particular age or
  temperament1 though it is1 doubtless1 
more ardent in some than in  others4    
,perhaps it is only denied to the       
habitually vicious4 ,for who1  not      
hardened by vice1 has ever looked upon a
 sleeping child in its  first bloom of  
beauty1 and seen its pure1 fresh hues1  
its ever  varying1 yet according lines1 
moulding and suffusing1 in their playful
  harmony1 its delicate features1--who1 

not callous1 has ever looked  upon this 
exquisite creature1 7so like what a poet
 might fancy of  visible music1 or      
embodied odors17 and has not felt       
himself carried1  as it were1 out of    
this present world1 in quest of its     
moral  counterpart8 ,it seems to us     
perfect2 we desire no change1--not a    
line  or a hue but as it is2 and yet we 
have a paradoxical feeling of a         
want1--for it is all physical2 and we   
supply that want by  endowing the child 
with some angelic attribute4 ,why do we 
this8 ,to  make it a whole1--not to the 
eye1 but to the mind4    ,nor is this   
general disposition to find a           
coincidence between a fair  exterior and
 moral excellence altogether unsupported
 by facts of1 at  least1 a partial      
realization4 ,for1 though a perfect     
correspondence  cannot be looked for in 
a state where all else is imperfect1 he 
is most unfortunate who has never met   
with many1 and very near1               
approximations to the desired union4    

,but we have a still stronger  assurance
 of their predetermined affinity in the 
peculiar activity of  this desire where 
there is no such approximation4 ,for    
example1 when we  meet with an instance 
of the higher virtues in an unattractive
 form1  how natural the wish that that  
form were beautiful6 ,so1 too1 on       
beholding a beautiful person1 how common
 the wish that the mind  it clothed were
 also good6 ,what are these wishes but  
unconscious  retrospects to our         
primitive nature8 ,and why have we them1
 if they be  not the workings of that   
universal law1 which gathers to itself  
all  scattered affinities1 bodying them 
forth in the never-ending forms of      
harmony1--in the flower1 in the tree1 in
 the bird1 and the animal1--if  they be 
not the evidence of its continuous1     
though fruitless1 effort  to evolve too 
in man its last consummate work1 by the 
perfect  confluence of the body and the 
spirit8 ,in this universal yearning 7for
  it seems to us no less7 to connect the

 physical with its appropriate          
moral1--to say nothing of the mysterious
 intuition that points to  the          
appropriate1--is there not something    
like a clew to what was  originally     
natural8 ,and1 again1 in the            
never-ceasing strivings of the  two     
great elements of our being1 each to    
supply the deficiencies of  the other1  
have we not also an intimation of       
something that once  was1 that is now   
lost1 and would be recovered8 ,surely   
there must  be more in this than a mere 
concernment of ,art2--if1 indeed1 there 
be  not in ,art more of the prophetic   
than we are now aware of4 ,to us  it    
seems that this irrepressible desire to 
find the good in the  beautiful1 and the
 beautiful in the good1 implies an end1 
both  beyond and above the trifling     
present2 pointing to deep and dark      
questions1--to no less than where the   
mysteries which surround us will  meet  
their solution4 ,one great mystery we   
see in part resolving itself  here4 ,we 

see the deformities of the body         
sometimes giving place to  its glorious 
tenant4 ,some of us may have witnessed  
this1 and felt  the spiritual presence  
gaining daily upon us1 till the outward 
shape  seemed lost in its brightness1   
leaving no trace in the memory4         
,whether the position we have           
endeavoured to establish be disputed or 
not1 the absolute correspondence between
 the ,moral and the ,physical  is1 at   
any rate1 the essential ground of the   
,plastic arts2 which could  not else    
exist1 since through ,form alone they   
have to convey1  not only thought and   
emotion1 but distinct and permanent     
character4  ,for our own part1 we cannot
 but consider their success in this as  
having settled the question4    ,from   
the view here presented1 what is the    
inference in relation to  ,art8 ,that   
,man1 as a compound being1 cannot be    
represented without an  indication as   
well of ,mind as of body2 that1 by a    
natural law which we  cannot resist1 we 

do continually require that they be to  
us as mutual  exponents1 the one of the 
other2 and1 finally1 that1 as a         
responsible  being1 and therefore a free
 agent1 he cannot be truly represented1 
either to the memory or to the          
imagination1 but as an ,individual4     
,it would seem1 also1 from the          
indefinite varieties in men1 though     
occasioned only by the mere difference  
of degrees in their common  faculties   
and powers1 that the coincidence of an  
equal developement of  all was never    
intended in nature2 but that some one or
 more of them1  becoming dominant1      
should distinguish the individual4 ,it  
follows1  therefore1 if this be the     
case1 that only through the phase of    
such  predominance can the human being  
ever be contemplated4 ,to the ,artist1  
then1 it becomes the only safe ground2  
the starting-point from  whence to      
ascend to a true ,ideal1--which is no   
other than a partial  individual truth  
made whole in the mind3 and thus1       

instead of one  ,ideal1 and that        
baseless1 he may have a thousand1--nay1 
as many as  there are marked or         
apprehensible individuals4    ,but we   
must not be understood as confining ,art
 to actual portraits4  ,within such     
limits there could not be               
,art1--certainly not ,art in its        
highest sense2 we should have in its    
place what would be little better  than 
a doubtful empiricism2 since the most   
elevated subject1 in the  ablest hands1 
would depend1 of necessity1 on the      
chance success of a  search after       
models4 ,and1 supposing that we bring   
together only the  rarest forms1 still  
those forms1 simply as circumscribed    
portraits1  and therefore insulated     
parts1 would instantly close every      
avenue  to the imagination2 for such is 
the law of the imagination1 that it     
cannot admit1 or1 in other words1       
recognize as a whole1 that which        
remains unmodified by some imaginative  
power1 which alone can give  unity to   

separate and distinct objects4 ,yet1 as 
it regards man1  all true ,art does1 and
 must1 find its proper object in the    
,individual3 as without individuality   
there could not be  character1 nor      
without character1 the human being4     
,but here it may be asked1 ,in what     
manner1 if we resort not to actual      
portrait1 is the ,individual ,man to be 
expressed8 ,we answer1 ,by  carrying out
 the natural individual predominant     
fragment which  is visible to us in     
actual ,form1 to its full1 consistent   
developement4  ,the ,individual is thus 
idealized1 when1 in the complete        
accordance of  all its parts1 it is     
presented to the mind as a whole4       
,when we apply the term fragment to a   
human being1 we do not  mean in relation
 to his species1 7in regard to which we 
have already  shown him to be a distinct
 whole17 but in relation to the ,idea1  
to  which his predominant characteristic
 suggests itself but as a  partial      
manifestation1 and made partial because 

counteracted by  some inadequate        
exponent1 or else modified by other1    
though minor1  characteristics4    ,how 
this is effected must be left to the    
,artist himself4 ,it is  impossible to  
prescribe a rule that would be to much  
purpose for any  one who stands in need 
of such instruction2 if his own mind    
does not  suggest the mode1 it would not
 even be intelligible4 ,perhaps our     
meaning1 however1 may be made more      
obvious1 if we illustrate it by         
example4 ,we would refer1 then1 to the  
restoration of a statue1 7a  thing often
 done with success17 where1 from a      
single fragment1 the  unknown ,form has 
been completely restored1 and so        
remoulded1 that the  parts added are in 
perfect unity with the suggestive       
fragment4 ,now the  parts wanting having
 never been seen1 this cannot be called 
a mere  act of the memory4              
,nevertheless1 it is not from nothing   
that man can  produce even the semblance
 of any thing4 ,the materials of the    

,artist are the work of ,him who created
 the ,artist himself2 but over  these1  
which his senses and mind are given him 
to observe and collect1  he has a       
delegated power1 for the purpose of     
combining and  modifying1 as unlimited  
as mysterious4 ,it is by the agency of  
this  intuitive and assimilating ,power1
 elsewhere spoken of1 that he is able   
to separate the essential from the      
accidental1 to proceed also from a  part
 to the whole2 thus educing1 as it were1
 an ,ideal nature from the  germs of the
 ,actual4    ,nor does the necessity of 
referring to ,nature preclude the       
,imaginative1 or any other class of ,art
 that rests its truth in the  desires of
 the mind4 ,in an especial manner must  
the personification  of ,sentiment1 of  
the ,abstract1 which owe their interest 
to the common  desire of rendering      
permanent1 by embodying1 that which has 
given us  pleasure1 take its            
starting-point from the ,actual2 from   
something  which1 by universal          

association or particular expression1   
shall recall  the ,sentiment1 ,thought1 
or ,time1 and serve as their exponents2 
there  being scarcely an object in      
,nature which the spirit of man has not1
 as  it were1 impressed with sympathy1  
and linked with his being4 ,of this1    
perhaps1 we could not have a more       
striking example than in the ,aurora  of
 ,michael ,angelo3 which1 if not        
universal1 is not so only because  the  
faculty addressed is by no means common4
 ,for1 as the peculiar  characteristic  
of the ,imaginative is its suggestive   
power1 the effect  of this figure must  
of necessity differ in different minds4 
,as in many  other cases1 there must    
needs be at least some degree of        
sympathy with  the mind that imagined   
it1 in order to any impression2 and the 
degree  in which that is made will      
always be in proportion to the          
congeniality  between the agent and the 
recipient4 ,should it appear1 then1 to  
any  one as a thing of no meaning1 it is

 not therefore conclusive that the      
,artist has failed4 ,for1 if there be   
but one in a thousand to whose  mind it 
recalls the deep stillness of ,night1   
gradually broken by the  awakening stir 
of ,day1 with its myriad forms of life  
emerging into  motion1 while their      
lengthened shadows1 undistinguished from
 their  objects1 seem to people the     
earth with gigantic beings2 then the    
dim1  gray monotony of color            
transforming them to stone1 yet leaving 
them  in motion1 till the whole scene   
becomes awful and mysterious as with    
moving statues2--if there be but one in 
ten thousand who shall have  thus       
imagined1 as he stands before this      
embodied ,dawn1 then is it1 for  every  
purpose of feeling through the excited  
imagination1 as true and  real as if    
instinct with life1 and possessing the  
mind by its living  will4 ,nor is the   
number so rare of those who have thus   
felt the  suggestive sorcery of this    
sublime ,statue4 ,but the mind so       

influenced  must be one to respond to   
sublime emotions1 since such was the    
emotion which inspired the ,artist4 ,if 
susceptible only to the gay and         
beautiful1 it will not answer4 ,for this
 is not the ,aurora of golden  purple1  
of laughing flowers and jewelled        
dew-drops2 but the dark  ,enchantress1  
enthroned on rocks1 or craggy mountains1
 and whose proper  empire is the shadowy
 confines of light and darkness4    ,how
 all this is done1 we shall not attempt 
to explain4 ,perhaps the  ,artist       
himself could not answer2 as to the quo 
modo in every  particular1 we doubt if  
it were possible to satisfy another4 ,he
 may  tell us1 indeed1 that having      
imagined certain appearances and effects
  peculiar to the ,time1 he endeavoured 
to imbue1 as it were1 some  human form  
with the sentiment they awakened1 so    
that the  embodied sentiment should     
associate itself in the spectator's mind
  with similar images2 and further      
endeavoured1 that the form  selected    

should1 by its air1 attitude1 and       
gigantic proportions1 also  excite the  
ideas of vastness1 solemnity1 and       
repose2 adding to this  that indefinite 
expression1 which1 while it is felt to  
act1 still  leaves no trace of its      
indistinct action4 ,so far1 it is true1 
he may  retrace the process2 but of the 
informing life that quickened  his      
fiction1 thus presenting the presiding  
,spirit of that ominous  ,time1 he knows
 nothing but that he felt it1 and       
imparted it to the  insensible marble4  
,and now the question will naturally    
occur1 ,is all that has been done  by   
the learned in ,art1 to establish       
certain canons of ,proportion1  utterly 
useless8 ,by no means4 ,if rightly      
applied1 and properly  considered1--as  
it seems to us they must have been by   
the great  artists of ,antiquity1--as   
expedient fictions1 they undoubtedly    
deserve at least a careful examination4 
,and1 inasmuch as they are the  result  
of a comparison of the finest actual    

forms through successive  ages1 and as  
they indicate the general limits which  
,nature has been  observed to assign to 
her noblest works1 they are so far to be
 valued4  ,but it must not be forgotten1
 that1 while a race1 or class1 may be   
generally marked by a certain average   
height and breadth1 or curve and  angle1
 still is every class and race composed 
of ,individuals1  who must needs1 as    
such1 differ from each other2 and though
 the  difference be slight1 yet is it   
the little more1 or the little less1    
which often separates the great from the
 mean1 the wise from the  foolish1 in   
human character2--nay1 the widest chasms
 are sometimes  made by a few lines3 so 
that1 in every individual case1 the     
limits in  question are rather to be    
departed from1 than strictly adhered to4
    ,the canon of the ,schools is easily
 mastered by every student who has  only
 memory2 yet of the hundreds who apply  
it1 how few do so to any  purpose6 ,some
 ten or twenty1 perhaps1 call up life   

from the quarry1  and flesh and blood   
from the canvas2 the rest conjure in    
vain with  their canon2 they call up    
nothing but the dead measures4 ,whence  
the  difference8 ,the answer is         
obvious1--,in the different minds they  
each  carry to their labors4    ,but let
 us trace1 with the ,artist1 the        
beginning and progress of a  successful 
work2 a picture1 for instance4 ,his     
method of proceeding may  enable us to  
ascertain how far he is assisted by the 
science1 so called1  of which we are    
speaking4 ,he adjusts the height and    
breadth of his figures  according to the
 canon1 either by the division of heads 
or faces1 as most  convenient4 ,by these
 means1 he gets the general divisions in
 the easiest  and most expeditious way4 
,but could he not obtain them without   
such aid8  ,he would answer1 ,yes1 by   
the eye alone2 but it would be a waste  
of time  were he so to proceed1 since he
 would have to do1 and undo1 perhaps    
twenty  times1 before he could erect    

this simple scaffolding2 whereas1 by    
applying  these rules1 whose general    
truth is already admitted1 he           
accomplishes his  object in a few       
minutes4 ,here we admit the use of the  
canon1 and admire  the facility with    
which it enables his hand1 almost       
without the aid of a  thought1 thus to  
lay out his work4 ,but here ends the    
science2 and here  begins what may seem 
to many the work of mutilation3 a leg1  
an arm1 a  trunk1 is increased1 or      
diminished2 line after line is erased1  
or  retrenched1 or extended1 again and  
again1 till not a trace remains of the  
original draught4 ,if he is asked now by
 what he is guided in these  innumerable
 changes1 he can only answer1 ,by the   
feeling within me4 ,nor can  he better  
tell how he knows when he has hit the   
mark4 ,the same feeling  responds to its
 truth2 and he repeats his attempts     
until that is  satisfied4    ,it would  
appear1 then1 that in the ,mind alone is
 to be found the true  or ultimate      

,rule1--if1 indeed1 that can be called a
 rule which  changes its measure with   
every change of character4 ,it is       
therefore  all-important that every aid 
be sought which may in any way          
contribute  to the due developement of  
the mental powers2 and no one will doubt
  the efficiency here of a good general 
education4 ,as to the course of  study1 
that must be left in a great measure to 
be determined by the  student2 it will  
be best indicated by his own natural    
wants4 ,we  may observe1 however1 that  
no species of knowledge can ever be     
oppressive to real genius1 whose        
peculiar privilege is that of           
subordinating all things to the         
paramount desire4 ,but it is not likely 
that a mind so endowed will be long     
diverted by any studies that do  not    
either strengthen its powers by         
exercise1 or have a direct bearing  on  
some particular need4    ,if the student
 be a painter1 or a sculptor1 he will   
not need to be  told that a knowledge of

 the human being1 in all his complicated
  springs of action1 is not more        
essential to the poet than to him4 ,nor 
will a true ,artist require to be       
reminded1 that1 though himself  must be 
his ultimate dictator and judge1 the    
allegiance of the world  is not to be   
commanded either by a dreamer or a      
dogmatist4 ,and  nothing1 perhaps1 would
 be more likely to secure him from      
either  character1 than the habit of    
keeping his eyes open1--nay1 his very   
heart2 nor need he fear to open it to   
the whole world1 since nothing  not     
kindred will enter there to abide2 for  
,evil into the mind 444    ,may come and
 go1 so unapproved1 and leave    ,no    
spot or blame behind4    ,and he may    
also be sure that a pure heart will shed
 a refining light  on his intellect1    
which it may not receive from any other 
source4    ,it cannot be supposed that  
an ,artist1 so disciplined1 will        
overlook  the works of his              
predecessors1--especially those         

exquisite remains of  ,antiquity which  
time has spared to us4 ,but to his own  
discretion must  be left the separating 
of the factitious from the true1--a task
 of  some moment2 for it cannot be      
denied that a mere antiquarian respect  
for whatever is ancient has preserved1  
with the good1 much that is  worthless4 
,indeed1 it is to little purpose that   
the finest forms are  set before us1 if 
we feel not their truth4 ,and here it   
may be  well to remark1 that an         
injudicious word has often given a      
wrong direction to the student1 from    
which he has found it difficult  to     
recover when his maturer mind has       
perceived the error4 ,it is a  common   
thing to hear such and such statues1 or 
pictures1 recommended  as models4 ,if   
the advice is followed1--as it too often
 is  literally1--the consequence must be
 an offensive mannerism2  for1 if       
repeating himself makes an artist a     
mannerist1 he is still  more likely to  
become one if he repeat another4 ,there 

is but one model  that will not lead him
 astray1--which is ,nature3 we do not   
mean what  is merely obvious to the     
senses1 but whatever is so acknowledged 
by  the mind4 ,so far1 then1 as the     
ancient statues are found to represent  
her1--and the student's own feeling must
 be the judge of that1--they  are       
undoubtedly both true and important     
objects of study1 as  presenting not    
only a wider1 but a higher view of      
,nature1 than might  else be commanded1 
were they buried with their authors2    
since1 with  the finest forms of the    
fairest portion of the earth1 we have   
also in  them the realized ,ideas of    
some of the greatest minds4 ,in like    
manner  may we extend our sphere of     
knowledge by the study of all those     
productions of later ages which have    
stood this test4 ,there is no  school   
from which something may not be learned4
 ,but chiefly to the  ,italian should   
the student be directed1 who would      
enlarge his views  on the present       

subject1 and especially to the works of 
,raffaelle and  ,michael ,angelo2 in    
whose highest efforts we have1 so to    
speak1  certain revelations of ,nature  
which could only have been made by her  
privileged seers4 ,and we refer to them 
more particularly1 as to the  two great 
sovereigns of the two distinct empires  
of ,truth1--the  ,actual and the        
,imaginative2 in which their claims are 
acknowledged  by that within us1 of     
which we know nothing but that it  must 
respond to all things true4 ,we refer to
 them1 also1 as  important examples in  
their mode of study2 in which it is     
evident  that1 whatever the source of   
instruction1 it was never considered as 
a  law of servitude1 but rather as the  
means of giving visible shape to  their 
own conceptions4    ,from the celebrated
 antique fragment1 called the ,torso1   
,michael ,angelo  is said to have       
constructed his forms4 ,if this be      
true1--and we have  no reason to doubt  
it1--it could nevertheless have been to 

him little  more than a hint4 ,but that 
is enough to a man of genius1 who stands
  in need1 no less than others1 of a    
point to start from4 ,there was         
something in this fragment which he     
seems to have felt1 as if of a  kindred 
nature to the unembodied creatures in   
his own mind2 and he  pondered over it  
until he mastered the spell of its      
author4 ,he then  turned to his own1 to 
the germs of life that still awaited    
birth1  to knit their joints1 to attach 
the tendons1 to mould the               
muscles1--finally1 to sway the limbs by 
a mighty will4 ,then emerged  into being
 that gigantic race of the              
,sistina1--giants in mind no less  than 
in body1 that appear to have descended  
as from another planet4  ,his ,prophets 
and ,sibyls seem to carry in their      
persons the commanding  evidence of     
their mission4 ,they neither look nor   
move like beings to  be affected by the 
ordinary concerns of life2 but as if    
they could  only be moved by the vast of

 human events1 the fall of empires1 the 
extinction of nations2 as if the awful  
secrets of the future had  overwhelmed  
in them all present sympathies4 ,as we  
have stood before  these lofty          
apparitions of the painter's mind1 it   
has seemed to us  impossible that the   
most vulgar spectator could have        
remained there  irreverent4    ,with    
many critics it seems to have been      
doubted whether much that  we now admire
 in ,raffaelle would ever have been but 
for his great  contemporary4 ,be this as
 it may1 it is a fact of history1 that1 
after  seeing the works of ,michael     
,angelo1 both his form and his style    
assumed a breadth and grandeur which    
they possessed not before4  ,and yet    
these great artists had little1 if any  
thing1 in common2  a sufficient proof   
that an original mind may owe1 and even 
freely  acknowledge1 its impetus to     
another without any self-sacrifice4     
,as ,michael ,angelo adopted from others
 only what accorded with his  own       

peculiar genius1 so did ,raffaelle2 and1
 wherever collected1 the  materials of  
both could not but enter their          
respective minds as their  natural      
aliment4    ,the genius of ,michael     
,angelo was essentially ,imaginative4   
,it  seems rarely to have been excited  
by the objects with which we are  daily 
familiar2 and when he did treat them1 it
 was rather as things  past1 as they    
appear to us through the atmosphere of  
the hallowing  memory4 ,we have a       
striking instance of this in his statue 
of ,lorenzo  de' ,medici2 where1        
retaining of the original only enough to
 mark the  individual1 and investing the
 rest with an air of grandeur that      
should  accord with his actions1 he has 
left to his country1 not a mere  effigy 
of the person1 but an embodiment of the 
mind2 a portrait  for posterity1 in     
which the unborn might recognize        
,lorenzo the  ,magnificent4    ,but the 
mind of ,raffaelle was an ever-flowing  
fountain of human  sympathies2 and in   

all that concerns man1 in his vast      
varieties and  complicated relations1   
from the highest forms of majesty to the
  humblest condition of humanity1 even  
to the maimed and misshapen1 he  may    
well be called a master4 ,his ,apostles1
 his philosophers1 and most  ordinary   
subordinates1 are all to us as living   
beings2 nor do we feel  any doubt that  
they all had mothers1 and brothers1 and 
kindred4 ,in  the assemblage of the     
,apostles 7already referred to7 at the  
,death of  ,ananias1 we look upon men   
whom the effusion of the ,spirit has    
equally  sublimated above every unholy  
thought2 a common power seems to have   
invested them all with a preternatural  
majesty4 ,yet not an iota of the        
individual is lost in any one2 the      
gentle bearing and amenity  of ,john    
still follow him in his office of       
almoner2 nor in ,peter does  the deep   
repose of the erect attitude of the     
,apostle1 as he deals the  death-stroke 
to the offender by a simple bend of his 

finger1 subdue  the energetic1 sanguine 
temperament of the ,disciple4    ,if any
 man may be said to have reigned over   
the hearts of his fellows1  it was      
,raffaelle ,sanzio4 ,not that he knew   
better what was in the  hearts and minds
 of men than many others1 but that he   
better  understood their relations to   
the external4 ,in this the greatest     
names  in ,art fall before him2 in this 
he has no rival2 and1 however derived1  
or in whatever degree improved by study1
 in him it seems to have risen  to      
intuition4 ,we know not how he touches  
and enthralls us2 as if he  had wrought 
with the simplicity of ,nature1 we see  
no effort2 and we  yield as to a living 
influence1 sure1 yet inscrutable4    ,it
 is not to be supposed that these two   
celebrated ,artists were at all  times  
successful4 ,like other men1 they had   
their moments of weakness1  when they   
fell into manner1 and gave us diagrams1 
instead of life4  ,perhaps no one1      
however1 had fewer lapses of this nature

 than  ,raffaelle2 and yet they are to  
be found in some of his best works4 ,we 
shall notice now only one instance1--the
 figure of ,st4 ,catherine in  the      
admirable picture of the ,madonna di    
,sisto2 in which we see an  evident     
rescript from the ,antique1 with all the
 received lines of  beauty1 as laid down
 by the analyst1--apparently faultless1 
yet  without a single inflection which  
the mind can recognize as allied to  our
 sympathies2 and we turn from it coldly1
 as from the work of an  artificer1 not 
of an ,artist4 ,but not so can we turn  
from the intense  life1 that seems      
almost to breathe upon us from the      
celestial group of  the ,virgin and her 
,child1 and from the ,angels below3 in  
these we have  the evidence of the      
divine afflatus1--of inspired ,art4     
,in the works of ,michael ,angelo it    
were easy to point out numerous         
examples of a similar failure1 though   
from a different cause2 not from        
mechanically following the ,antique1 but

 rather from erecting into  a model the 
exaggerated shadow of his own practice2 
from  repeating lines and masses that   
might have impressed us with grandeur   
but for the utter absence of the        
informing soul4 ,and that such is the   
character--or rather want of            
character--of many of the figures in his
  ,last ,judgment cannot be gainsaid by 
his warmest admirers1--among whom  there
 is no one more sincere than the present
 writer4 ,but the failures  of great men
 are our most profitable                
lessons1--provided only1 that we  have  
hearts and heads to respond to their    
success4    ,in conclusion4 ,we have now
 arrived at what appears to us the      
turning-point1 that1 by a natural       
reflux1 must carry us back to our       
original ,position2 in other words1 it  
seems to us clear1 that the  result of  
the argument is that which was          
anticipated in our main  ,proposition2  
namely1 that no given number of         
,standard ,forms can with  certainty    

apply to the ,human ,being2 that all    
,rules therefore1 thence  derived1 can  
only be considered as ,expedient        
,fictions1 and  consequently subject to 
be overruled by the ,artist1--in whose  
mind alone is the ultimate ,rule2 and1  
finally1 that without an  intimate      
acquaintance with ,nature1 in all its   
varieties of the moral1  intellectual1  
and physical1 the highest powers are    
wanting in their  necessary condition of
 action1 and are therefore incapable of 
supplying the ,rule4                    
,composition4        ,the term          
,composition1 in its general sense1     
signifies the union of  things that were
 originally separate3 in the art of     
,painting it  implies1 in addition to   
this1 such an arrangement and reciprocal
  relation of these materials1 as shall 
constitute them so many  essential parts
 of a whole4    ,in a true ,composition 
of ,art will be found the following     
characteristics3--,first1 ,unity of     
,purpose1 as expressing the general     

sentiment or intention of the ,artist4  
,secondly1 ,variety of ,parts1 as       
expressed in the diversity of shape1    
quantity1 and line4 ,thirdly1           
,continuity1 as expressed by the        
connection of parts with each other1    
and their relation to the whole4        
,fourthly1 ,harmony of ,parts4    ,as   
these characteristics1 like every thing 
which the mind can  recognize as true1  
all have their origin in its natural    
desires1 they  may also be termed       
,principles2 and as such we shall       
consider them4 ,in  order1 however1 to  
satisfy ourselves that they are truly   
such1 and not  arbitrary assumptions1 or
 the traditional dogmas of ,practice1 it
 may  be well to inquire whence is their
 authority2 for1 though the ultimate    
cause of pleasure and pain may ever     
remain to us a mystery1 yet it is  not  
so with their intermediate causes1 or   
the steps that lead to them4    ,with   
respect to ,unity of ,purpose1 it is    
sufficient to observe1 that1  where the 

attention is at the same time claimed by
 two objects1 having  each a different  
end1 they must of necessity break in    
upon that free  state required of the   
mind in order to receive a full         
impression from  either4 ,it is needless
 to add1 that such conflicting claims   
cannot1  under any circumstances1 be    
rendered agreeable4 ,and yet this most  
obvious requirement of the mind has     
sometimes been violated by great        
,artists1--though not of authority in   
this particular1 as we shall  endeavour 
to show in another place4    ,we        
proceed1 meanwhile1 to the second       
principle1 namely1 ,variety2 by  which  
is to be understood difference1 yet with
 relation  to a common end4    ,of a    
ruling ,principle1 or ,law1 we can only 
get a notion by observing the  effects  
of certain things in relation to the    
mind2 the uniformity of  which leads us 
to infer something which is unchangeable
 and permanent4  ,it is in this way     
that1 either directly or indirectly1 we 

learn the  existence of certain laws    
that invariably control us4 ,thus1      
indirectly1  from our disgust at        
monotony1 we infer the necessity of     
variety4 ,but  variety1 when carried to 
excess1 results in weariness4 ,some     
limitation1  therefore1 seems no less   
needed4 ,it is1 however1 obvious1 that  
all  attempts to fix the limit to       
,variety1 that shall apply as a         
universal  rule1 must be nugatory1      
inasmuch as the degree must depend on   
the  kind1 and the kind on the subject  
treated4 ,for instance1 if the  subject 
be of a gay and light character1 and the
 emotions intended to be  excited of a  
similar nature1 the variety may be      
carried to a far greater  extent than in
 one of a graver character4 ,in the     
celebrated ,marriage at  ,cana1 by ,paul
 ,veronese1 we see it carried1 perhaps1 
to its utmost  limits2 and to such an   
extent1 that an hour's travel will      
hardly conduct  us through all its      
parts2 yet we feel no weariness         

throughout this  journey1 nay1 we are   
quite unconscious of the time it has    
taken4 ,it is  no disparagement of this 
remarkable picture1 if we consider the  
subject1  not according to the title it 
bears1 but as what the ,artist has      
actually  made it1--that is1 as a       
,venetian entertainment2 and also the   
effect  intended1 which was to delight  
by the exhibition of a gorgeous         
pageant4 ,and in this he has succeeded  
to a degree unexampled2 for  literally  
the eye may be said to dance through the
 picture1 scarcely  lighting on one part
 before it is drawn to another1 and     
another1 and  another1 as by a kind of  
witchery2 while the subtile interlocking
 of  each successive novelty leaves it  
no choice1 but1 seducing it onward1     
still keeps it in motion1 till the giddy
 sense seems to call on the  imagination
 to join in the revel2 and every poetic 
temperament answers  to the call1       
bringing visions of its own1 that mingle
 with the painted  crowd1 exchanging    

forms1 and giving them voice1 like the  
creatures of a  dream4    ,to those who 
have never seen this picture1 our       
account of its effect  may perhaps      
appear incredible when they are told1   
that it not only  has no story1 but not 
a single expression to which you can    
attach a  sentiment4 ,it is nevertheless
 for this very reason that we here cite 
it1 as a triumphant verification of     
those immutable laws of the mind  to    
which the principles of ,composition are
 supposed to appeal2 where  the simple  
technic exhibition1 or illustration of  
,principles1  without story1 or thought1
 or a single definite expression1 has   
still the power to possess and to fill  
us with a thousand delightful  emotions4
    ,and here we cannot refrain from a  
passing remark on certain  criticisms1  
which have obtained1 as we think1 an    
undeserved currency4  ,to assert that   
such a work is solely addressed to the  
senses 7meaning  thereby that its only  
end is in mere pleasurable sensation7 is

 to give  the lie to our convictions2   
inasmuch as we find it appealing to one 
of the mightiest ministers of the       
,imagination1--the great ,law of        
,harmony1--which cannot be touched      
without awakening by its  vibrations1 so
 to speak1 the untold myriads of        
sleeping forms that lie  within its     
circle1 that start up in tribes1 and    
each in accordance  with the congenial  
instrument that summons them to action4 
,he who  can thus1 as it were1 embody an
 abstraction is no mere pander to the   
senses4 ,and who that has a modicum of  
the imaginative would assert  of one of 
,haydn's ,sonatas1 that its effect on   
him was no other than  sensuous8 ,or who
 would ask for the story in one of our  
gorgeous  autumnal sunsets8    ,in      
subjects of a grave or elevated kind1   
the ,variety will be found to  diminish 
in the same degree in which they        
approach the ,sublime4 ,in the  raising 
of ,lazarus1 by ,lievens1 we have an    
example of the smallest  possible number

 of parts which the nature of such a    
subject would  admit4 ,and1 though a    
different conception might authorize a  
much  greater number1 yet we do not feel
 in this any deficiency2 indeed1 it  may
 be doubted if the addition of even one 
more part would not be felt  as         
obtrusive4    ,by the term parts we are 
not to be understood as including the   
minutiae of dress or ornament1 or even  
the several members of a group1  which  
come more properly under the head of    
detail2 we apply the term  only to those
 prominent divisions which constitute   
the essential  features of a            
composition4 ,of these the ,sublime     
admits the fewest4 ,nor  is the         
limitation arbitrary4 ,by whatever      
causes the stronger passions  or higher 
faculties of the mind become pleasurably
 excited1 if they be  pushed as it were 
beyond their supposed limits1 till a    
sense of the  indefinite seems almost to
 partake of the infinite1 to these      
causes we  affix the epithet ,sublime4  

,it is needless to inquire if such  an  
effect can be produced by any thing     
short of the vast and  overpowering1    
much less by the gradual approach or    
successive  accumulation of any number  
of separate forces4 ,every one can      
answer  from his own experience4 ,we may
 also add1 that the pleasure which      
belongs to the deeper emotions always   
trenches on pain2 and the sense  of pain
 leads to reaction2 so that1 singly     
roused1 they will rise  but to fall1    
like men at a breach1--leaving a        
conquest1 not over the  living1 but the 
dead4 ,the effect of the ,sublime must  
therefore be  sudden1 and to be sudden1 
simple1 scarce seen till felt2 coming   
like  a blast1 bending and levelling    
every thing before it1 till it passes   
into space4 ,so comes this marvellous   
emotion2 and so vanishes1--to  where no 
straining of our mortal faculties will  
ever carry them4    ,to prevent         
misapprehension1 we may here observe1   
that1 though the  parts be few1 it does 

not necessarily follow that they should 
always  consist of simple or single     
objects4 ,this narrow inference has     
often  led to the error of mistaking    
mere space for grandeur1 especially     
with those who have wrought rather from 
theory than from the true  possession of
 their subjects4 ,hence1 by the         
mechanical arrangement  of certain large
 and sweeping masses of light and       
shadow1 we are  sometimes surprised into
 a momentary expectation of a sublime   
impression1 when a nearer approach gives
 us only the notion of a vast  blank4   
,and the error lies in the misconception
 of a mass4 ,for a mass  is not a thing1
 but the condition of things2 into      
which1  should the subject require it1 a
 legion1 a host1 may be compressed1  an 
army with banners1--yet so that they    
break not the unity of their  ,part1    
that technic form to which they are     
subordinate4    ,the difference between 
a ,part and a ,mass is1 that a ,mass may
 include1  per se1 many ,parts1 yet1 in 

relation to a ,whole1 is no more  than a
 single component4 ,perhaps the same    
distinction may be more  simply         
expressed1 if we define it as only a    
larger division1 including  several     
parts1 which may be said to be analogous
 to what is  termed the detail of a     
,part4 ,look at the ocean in a          
storm1--at  that single wave4 ,how it   
grows before us1 building up its waters 
as  with conscious life1 till its huge  
head overlooks the mast6 ,a million  of 
lines intersect its surface1 a myriad of
 bubbles fleck it with  light2 yet its  
terrible unity remains unbroken4 ,not a 
bubble or a line  gives a thought of    
minuteness2 they flash and flit1 ere the
 eye can  count them1 leaving only their
 aggregate1 in the indefinite sense  of 
multitudinous motion3 take them away1   
and you take from the  mass the very    
sign of its power1 that fearful impetus 
which  makes it what it is1--a moving   
mountain of water4    ,we have thus     
endeavoured1 in the opposite characters 

of the ,sublime  and the ,gay or        
,magnificent1 to exhibit the two        
extremes of ,variety2 of  the           
intermediate degrees it is unnecessary  
to speak1 since in these  two is        
included all that is applicable to the  
rest4    ,though it is of vital         
importance to every composition that    
there be  variety of ,lines1 little can 
be said on the subject in addition to   
what has been advanced in relation to   
parts1 that is1 to shape and  quantity2 
both having a common origin4 ,by a line 
in ,composition is  meant something very
 different from the geometrical         
definition4  ,originally1 it was no     
doubt used as a metaphor2 but the needs 
of  ,art have long since converted this1
 and many other words of like           
application1 7as tone1 c417 into        
technical terms4 ,line  thus signifies  
the course or medium through which the  
eye is led from  one part of the picture
 to another4 ,the indication of this    
course is  various and multiform1       

appertaining equally to shape1 to color1
 and to  light and dark2 in a word1 to  
whatever attracts and keeps the eye in  
motion4 ,for the regulation of these    
lines there is no rule absolute1  except
 that they vary and unite2 nor is the   
last strictly necessary1  it being      
sufficient if they so terminate that the
 transition from one  to another is made
 naturally1 and without effort1 by the  
imagination4  ,nor can any laws be laid 
down as to their peculiar character3    
this  must depend on the nature of the  
subject4    ,in the wild and stormy     
scenes of ,salvator ,rosa1 they break   
upon us  as with the angular flash of   
lightning2 the eye is dashed up one     
precipice only to be dashed down        
another2 then1 suddenly hurried to  the 
sky1 it shoots up1 almost in a direct   
line1 to some sharp-edged  rock2 whence 
pitched1 as it were1 into a sea of      
clouds1 bellying with  circles1 it      
partakes their motion1 and seems to     
reel1 to roll1 and to  plunge with them 

into the depths of air4    ,if we pass  
from ,salvator to ,claude1 we shall find
 a system of lines  totally different4  
,our first impression from ,claude is   
that of perfect  unity1 and this we have
 even before we are conscious of a      
single image2 as if1 circumscribing his 
scenes by a magic circle1 he  had       
imposed his own mood on all who entered 
it4 ,the spell then  opens ere it seems 
to have begun1 acting upon us with a    
vague sense of  limitless expanse1 yet  
so continuous1 so gentle1 so            
imperceptible in  its remotest          
gradations1 as scarcely to be felt1     
till1 combining  with unity1 we find the
 feeling embodied in the complete image 
of  intellectual repose1--fulness and   
rest4 ,the mind thus disposed1 the      
charmed eye glides into the scene3 a    
soft1 undulating light leads it  on1    
from bank to bank1 from shrub to shrub2 
now leaping and sparkling  over pebbly  
brooks and sunny sands2 now fainter and 
fainter1 dying  away down shady slopes1 

then seemingly quenched in some secluded
 dell2  yet only for a moment1--for a   
dimmer ray again carries it onward1     
gently winding among the boles of trees 
and rambling vines1 that1  skirting the 
ascent1 seem to hem in the twilight2    
then emerging  into day1 it flashes in  
sheets over towers and towns1 and woods 
and  streams1 when it finally dips into 
an ocean1 so far off1 so twin-like  with
 the sky1 that the doubtful horizon1    
unmarked by a line1 leaves no  point of 
rest3 and now1 as in a flickering arch1 
the fascinated eye  seems to sail upward
 like a bird1 wheeling its flight       
through a  mottled labyrinth of clouds1 
on to the zenith2 whence1 gently        
inflected by some shadowy mass1 it      
slants again downward to a mass  still  
deeper1 and still to another1 and       
another1 until it falls into  the       
darkness of some massive tree1--focused 
like midnight in the  brightest noon3   
there stops the eye1 instinctively      
closing1 and giving  place to the ,soul1

 there to repose and to dream her dreams
 of romance  and love4    ,from these   
two examples of their general effect1   
some notion may be  gathered of the     
different systems of the two ,artists2  
and though  no mention has been made of 
the particular lines employed1 their    
distinctive character may readily be    
inferred from the kind of motion  given 
to the eye in the descriptions we have  
attempted4 ,in the  rapid1 abrupt1      
contrasted1 whirling movement in the    
one1 we have an  exposition of an       
irregular combination of curves and     
angles2 while the  simple combination of
 the parabola and the serpentine will   
account for  all the imperceptible      
transitions in the other4    ,it would  
be easy to accumulate examples from     
other ,artists who differ  in the       
economy of line not only from these but 
from each other2 as  ,raffaelle1        
,michael ,angelo1 ,correggio1 ,titian1  
,poussin1--in a word1  every painter    
deserving the name of master3 for lines 

here may be  called the tracks of       
thought1 in which we follow the author's
 mind  through his imaginary creations4 
,they hold1 indeed1 the same relation   
to ,painting that versification does to 
,poetry1 an element of style2  for what 
is meant by a line in ,painting is      
analogous to that which  in the sister  
art distinguishes the abrupt gait of    
,crabbe from the  sauntering walk of    
,cowley1 and the long1 majestic march of
 ,dryden  from the surging sweep of     
,milton4    ,of ,continuity little needs
 be said1 since its uses are implied in 
the  explanation of ,line2 indeed1 all  
that can be added will be expressed  in 
its essential relation to a whole1 in   
which alone it differs  from a mere     
line4 ,for1 though a line 7as just      
explained7 supposes a  continuous       
course1 yet a line1 per se1 does not    
necessarily  imply any relation to other
 lines4 ,it will still be a line1 though
  standing alone2 but the principle of  
continuity may be called  the unifying  

spirit of every line4 ,it is therefore  
that we have  distinguished it as a     
separate principle4    ,in fact1 if we  
judge from feeling1 the only true test1 
it is no  paradox to say that the excess
 of variety must inevitably end in      
monotony2 for1 as soon as the sense of  
fatigue begins1 every new  variety but  
adds to the pain1 till the succeeding   
impressions are at  last resolved into  
continuous pain4 ,but1 supposing a limit
 to variety1  where the mind may be     
pleasurably excited1 the very sense of  
pleasure1  when it reaches the extreme  
point1 will create the desire of        
renewing  it1 and naturally carry it    
back to the point of starting2 thus     
superinducing1 with the renewed         
enjoyment1 the fulness of pleasure1 in  
the sense of a whole4    ,it is by this 
summing up1 as it were1 of the memory1  
through  recurrence1 not that we        
perceive1--which is instantaneous1--but 
that  we enjoy any thing as a whole4 ,if
 we have not observed it in others1     

some of us1 perhaps1 may remember it in 
ourselves1 when we have stood  before   
some fine picture1 though with a sense  
of pleasure1 yet for  many minutes in a 
manner abstracted1--silently passing    
through all its  harmonious transitions 
without the movement of a muscle1 and   
hardly  conscious of action1 till we    
have suddenly found ourselves returning 
on our steps4 ,then it was1--as if we   
had no eyes till then1--that  the magic 
,whole poured in upon us1 and vouched   
for its truth in an  outbreak of        
rapture4    ,the fourth and last        
division of our subject is the ,harmony 
of ,parts2  or the essential agreement  
of one part with another1 and of each   
with  the whole4 ,in addition to our    
first general definition1 we may further
  observe1 that by a ,whole in ,painting
 is signified the complete  expression1 
by means of form1 color1 light1 and     
shadow1 of one  thought1 or series of   
thoughts1 having for their end some     
particular truth1 or sentiment1 or      

action1 or mood of mind4 ,we say        
thought1 because no images1 however put 
together1 can ever  be separated by the 
mind from other and extraneous images1  
so as to  comprise a positive whole1    
unless they be limited by some          
intellectual  boundary4 ,a picture      
wanting this may have fine parts1 but is
 not a  ,composition1 which implies     
parts united to each other1 and also    
suited  to some specific purpose1       
otherwise they cannot be known as       
united4  ,since ,harmony1 therefore1    
cannot be conceived of without reference
 to  a whole1 so neither can a whole be 
imagined without fitness of parts4  ,to 
give this fitness1 then1 is the ultimate
 task and test of genius3  it is1 in    
fact1 calling form and life out of what 
before was but a  chaos of materials1   
and making them the subject and         
exponents of the  will4 ,as the         
master-principle1 also1 it is the       
disposer1 regulator1  and modifier of   
shape1 line1 and quantity1 adding1      

diminishing1  changing1 shaping1 till it
 becomes clear and intelligible1 and it 
finally manifests itself in pleasurable 
identity with the harmony  within us4   
,to reduce the operation of this        
principle to precise rules is1  perhaps1
 without the province of human power3 we
 might else expect to  see poets and    
painters made by recipe4 ,as in many    
other operations of  the mind1 we must  
here be content to note a few of the    
more tangible  facts1 if we may be      
allowed the phrase1 which have          
occasionally been  gathered by          
observation during the process4 ,the    
first fact presented  is1 that equal    
quantities1 when coming together1       
produce monotony1  and1 if at all       
admissible1 are only so when absolutely 
needed1 at  a proper distance1 to echo  
back or recall the theme1 which would   
otherwise be lost in the excess of      
variety4 ,we speak of quantity here  as 
of a mass1 not of the minutiae2 for the 
essential components  of a part may     

often be equal quantities1 7as in a     
piece of  architecture1 of armour1 c417 
which are analogous to poetic feet1 for 
instance1 a spondee4 ,the same effect we
 find from parallel lines and           
repetition of shapes4 ,hence we obtain  
the law of a limited variety4  ,the next
 is1 that the quantities must be so     
disposed as to balance  each other2     
otherwise1 if all or too many of the    
larger be on one  side1 they will       
endanger the imaginary circle1 or other 
figure1 by  which every composition is  
supposed to be bounded1 making it appear
  lop-sided1 or to be falling either in 
upon the smaller quantities1  or out of 
the picture3 from which we infer the    
necessity of balance4  ,if1 without     
others to counteract and restrain them1 
the parts  converge1 the eye1 being     
forced to the centre1 becomes           
stationary2 in  like manner1 if all     
diverge1 it is forced to fly off in     
tangents3  as if the great laws of      
,attraction and ,repulsion were here    

also  essential1 and illustrated in     
miniature4 ,if we add to these ,breadth1
 ,i  believe we shall have enumerated   
all the leading phenomena of  ,harmony1 
which experience has enabled us to      
establish as rules4 ,by  breadth is     
meant such a massing of the quantities1 
whether  by color1 light1 or shadow1 as 
shall enable the eye to pass without    
obstruction1 and by easy transitions1   
from one to another1 so that it  shall  
appear to take in the whole at a glance4
 ,this may be likened to  both the      
exordium and peroration of a discourse1 
including as well  the last as the first
 general idea4 ,it is1 in other words1 a
 simple1  connected1 and concise        
exposition and summary of what the      
artist  intends4    ,we have thus       
endeavoured to arrange and to give a    
logical permanency  to the several      
principles of ,composition4 ,it is not  
to be supposed1  however1 that in these 
we have every principle that might be   
named2  but they are all1 as we         

conceive1 that are of universal         
application4  ,of other minor1 or rather
 personal ones1 since they pertain to   
the  individual1 the number can only be 
limited by the variety of the  human    
intellect1 to which these may be        
considered as so many simple  elementary
 guides2 not to create genius1 but to   
enable it to  understand itself1 and by 
a distinct knowledge of its own         
operations  to correct its mistakes1--in
 a word1 to establish the landmarks     
between the flats of commonplace and the
 barrens of extravagance4 ,and1  though 
the personal or individual principles   
referred to may not with  propriety be  
cited as examples in a general treatise 
like the present1  they are not only not
 to be overlooked1 but are to be        
regarded by the  student as legitimate  
objects of study4 ,to the truism1 that  
we can  only judge of other minds by a  
knowledge of our own1 we may add  its   
converse as especially true4 ,in that   
mysterious tract of the  intellect1     

which we call the ,imagination1 there   
would seem to lie  hid thousands of     
unknown forms1 of which we are often for
 years  unconscious1 until they start up
 awakened by the footsteps of a         
stranger4 ,hence it is that the greatest
 geniuses1 as presenting a  wider field 
for excitement1 are generally found to  
be the widest  likers2 not so much from 
affinity1 or because they possess the   
precise kinds of excellence which they  
admire1 but often from the  differences 
which these very excellences in others1 
as the  exciting cause1 awaken in       
themselves4 ,such men may be said to be 
endowed with a double vision1 an inward 
and an outward2 the inward  seeing not  
unfrequently the reverse of what is seen
 by the outward4  ,it was this which    
caused ,annibal ,caracci to remark1 on  
seeing for the  first time a picture by 
,caravaggio1 that he thought a style    
totally  opposite might be made very    
captivating2 and the hint1 it is said1  
sunk deep into and was not lost on      

,guido1 who soon after realized what    
his master had thus imagined4 ,perhaps  
no one ever caught more from  others    
than ,raffaelle4 ,i do not allude to his
 borrowing1 so  ingeniously1 not        
soundly1 defended by ,sir ,joshua1 but  
rather to his  excitability1 7if ,i may 
here apply a modern term17--that        
inflammable  temperament1 which took    
fire1 as it were1 from the very friction
  of the atmosphere4 ,for there was     
scarce an excellence1 within his        
knowledge1 of his predecessors or       
contemporaries1 which did not in a      
greater or less degree contribute to the
 developement of his powers2  not as    
presenting models of imitation1 but as  
shedding new light on  his own mind1 and
 opening to view its hidden treasures4  
,such to him  were the forms of the     
,antique1 of ,leonardo da ,vinci1 and of
 ,michael  ,angelo1 and the breadth and 
color of ,fra ,bartolomeo1--lights that 
first made him acquainted with himself1 
not lights that he followed2  for he was

 a follower of none4 ,to how many others
 he was indebted for  his impulses      
cannot now be known2 but the new impetus
 he was known to  have received from    
every new excellence has led many to    
believe1 that1  had he lived to see the 
works of ,titian1 he would have added to
 his  grace1 character1 and form1 and   
with equal originality1 the splendor  of
 color4 ,the design of ,michael ,angelo 
and the color of ,titian1 was  the      
inscription of ,tintoretto over the door
 of his painting-room4  ,whether he     
intended to designate these two artists 
as his future  models matters not2 but  
that he did not follow them is evidenced
 in  his works4 ,nor1 indeed1 could he3 
the temptation to follow1  which his    
youthful admiration had excited1 was met
 by an interdiction  not easily         
withstood1--the decree of his own       
genius4 ,and yet the  decree had        
probably never been heard but for these 
very masters4 ,their  presence stirred  
him2 and1 when he thought of serving1   

his teeming  mind poured out its        
abundance1 making him a master to future
  generations4 ,to the forms of ,michael
 ,angelo he was certainly indebted  for 
the elevation of his own2 there1        
however1 the inspiration ended4  ,with  
,titian he was nearly allied in genius2 
yet he thought rather with  than after  
him1--at times even beyond him4 ,titian1
 indeed1 may be said  to have first     
opened his eyes to the mysteries of     
nature2 but they  were no sooner opened1
 than he rushed into them with a        
rapidity and  daring unwont to the more 
cautious spirit of his master2 and1     
though  irregular1 eccentric1 and often 
inferior1 yet sometimes he made his  way
 to poetical regions1 of whose celestial
 hues even ,titian himself  had never   
dreamt4    ,we might go on thus with    
every great name in ,art4 ,but these    
examples  are enough to show how much   
even the most original minds1 not only  
may1 but must1 owe to others2 for the   
social law of our nature  applies no    

less to the intellect than to the       
affections4 ,when applied  to genius1 it
 may be called the social inspiration1  
the simple  statement of which seems to 
us of itself a solution of the          
oft-repeated question1 ,why is it that  
genius always appears in  clusters8 ,to 
,nature1 indeed1 we must all at last    
recur1 as to the  only true and         
permanent foundation of real excellence4
 ,but ,nature is  open to all men alike1
 in her beauty1 her majesty1 her        
grandeur1 and  her sublimity4 ,yet who  
will assert that all men see1 or1 if    
they see1  are impressed by these her   
attributes alike8 ,nay1 so great is the 
difference1 that one might almost       
suppose them inhabitants of  different  
worlds4 ,of ,claude1 for instance1 it is
 hardly a metaphor to  say that he lived
 in two worlds during his natural life2 
for ,claude  the pastry-cook could never
 have seen the same world that was made 
visible to ,claude the painter4 ,it was 
human sympathy1 acting through  human   

works1 that gave birth to his intellect 
at the age of forty4  ,there is         
something1 perhaps1 ludicrous in the    
thought of an infant of  forty4 ,yet the
 fact is a solemn one1 that thousands   
die whose minds  have never been born4  
,we could not1 perhaps1 instance a      
stronger confutation of the vulgar      
error which opposes learning to genius1 
than the simple history of  this        
remarkable man4 ,in all that respects   
the mind1 he was literally a  child1    
till accident or necessity carried him  
to ,rome2 for1 when the  office of      
color-grinder1 added to that of cook1 by
 awakening his  curiosity1 first excited
 a love for the ,art1 his progress      
through its  rudiments seems to have    
been scarcely less slow and painful than
 that  of a child through the horrors of
 the alphabet4 ,it was the struggle of  
one who was learning to think2 but1 the 
rudiments being mastered1 he  found     
himself suddenly possessed1 not as yet  
of thought1 but of new  forms of        

language2 then came thoughts1 pouring   
from his mind1 and  filling them as     
moulds1 without which they had never1   
perhaps1 had  either shape or           
consciousness4    ,now what was this new
 language but the product of other      
minds1--of  successive minds1 amending1 
enlarging1 elaborating1 through         
successive  ages1 till1 fitted to all   
its wants1 it became true to the ,ideal1
 and  the vernacular tongue of genius   
through all time8 ,the first inventor   
of verse was but the prophetic herald of
 ,homer1 ,shakspeare1 and  ,milton4 ,and
 what was ,rome then but the great      
,university of ,art1 where  all this    
accumulated learning was treasured8     
,much has been said of self-taught      
geniuses1 as opposed to those who  have 
been instructed by others3 but the      
distinction1 it appears to  us1 is      
without a difference2 for it matters not
 whether we learn in a  school or by    
ourselves1--we cannot learn any thing   
without in some way  recurring to other 

minds4 ,let us imagine a poet who had   
never read1  never heard1 never         
conversed with another4 ,now if he will 
not be  taught in any thing by another1 
he must strictly preserve this          
independent negation4 ,truly the verses 
of such a poet would be a  miracle4 ,of 
similar self-taught painters we have    
abundant examples in  our               
aborigines1--but nowhere else4    ,but1 
while we maintain1 as a positive law of 
our nature1 the necessity  of mental    
intercourse with our fellow-creatures1  
in order to the full  developement of   
the individual1 we are far from implying
 that  any thing which is actually taken
 from others can by any process  become 
our own1 that is1 original4 ,we may     
reverse1 transpose1  diminish1 or add to
 it1 and so skilfully that no scam or   
mutilation  shall be detected2 and yet  
we shall not make it appear             
original1--in  other words1 true1 the   
offspring of one mind4 ,a borrowed      
thought will always be borrowed2 as it  

will be felt as such in its  effect1    
even while we are ourselves unconscious 
of the fact3  for it will want that     
effect of life1 which only the first    
mind  can give it#c4      ,of the       
multifarious retailers of the           
second-hand in style1 the class  is so  
numerous as to make a selection         
difficult3 they meet us at every  step  
in the history of the ,art4 ,one        
instance1 however1 may suffice1  and we 
select ,vernet1 as uniting in himself a 
singular and striking  example of the   
false and the true2 and also as the     
least  invidious instance1 inasmuch as  
we may prove our position by opposing   
him to himself4    ,in the landscapes of
 ,vernet1 7when not mere views17 we see 
the  imitator of ,salvator1 or rather   
copyist of his lines2 and these we  have
 in all their angular nakedness1 where  
rocks1 trees1 and mountains  are so     
jagged1 contorted1 and tumbled about1   
that nothing but an  explosion could    
account for their assemblage4 ,they have

 not the  relation which we sometimes   
find even in a random collocation1 as in
  the accidental pictures of a          
discolored wall2 for the careful hand   
of the contriver is traced through all  
this disorder2 nay1 the very  execution1
 the conventional dash of pencil1       
betrays what a lawyer  would call the   
malice prepense of the ,artist in their 
strange  disfigurement4 ,to many this   
may appear like hypercriticism2 but we  
sincerely believe that no one1 even     
among his admirers1 has ever been       
deceived into a real sympathy with such 
technical flourishes3 they  are felt as 
factitious2 as mere diagrams of         
composition deduced from  pictures4     
,now let us look at one of his ,storms  
at ,sea1 when he wrought from his  own  
mind4 ,a dark leaden atmosphere prepares
 us for something fearful3  suddenly a  
scene of tumult1 fierce1 wild1          
disastrous1 bursts upon us2  and we feel
 the shock drive1 as it were1 every     
other thought from the  mind3 the       

terrible vision now seizes the          
imagination1 filling it with  sound and 
motion3 we see the clouds fly1 the      
furious waves one upon  another dashing 
in conflict1 and rolling1 as if in      
wrath1 towards the  devoted ship3 the   
wind blows from the canvas2 we hear it  
roar through  her shrouds2 her masts    
bend like twigs1 and her last forlorn   
hope1  the close-reefed foresail1       
streams like a tattered flag3 a terrible
  fascination still constrains us to    
look1 and a dim1 rocky shore looms  on  
her lee3 then comes the dreadful cry of 
,breakers ahead6 the crew  stand        
appalled1 and the master's trumpet is   
soundless at his lips4  ,this is the    
uproar of nature1 and we feel it to be  
true2  for here every line1 every touch1
 has a meaning4 ,the ragged clouds1  the
 huddled waves1 the prostrate ship1     
though forced by contrast  into the     
sharpest angles1 all agree1 opposed as  
they seem1--evolving  harmony out of    
apparent discord4 ,and this is ,genius1 

which no  criticism can ever disprove4  
,but all great names1 it is said1 must  
have their shadows4 ,in our ,art  they  
have many shadows1 or rather ,i should  
say1 reflections2 which  are more or    
less distinct according to their        
proximity to the living  originals1 and1
 like the images in opposite mirrors1   
becoming  themselves reflected and      
re-reflected with a kind of battledoor  
alternation1 grow dimmer and dimmer till
 they vanish from mere  distance4       
,thus have the great schools of ,italy1 
,flanders1 and ,holland lived and       
walked after death1 till even their     
ghosts have become familiar to us4      
,we would not1 however1 be understood as
 asserting that we receive  pleasure    
only from original works3 this would be 
contradicting  the general experience4  
,we admit1 on the contrary1 that there  
are  hundreds1 nay1 thousands1 of       
pictures having no pretensions to       
originality of any kind1 which still    
afford pleasure2 as1 indeed1  do many   

things out of the ,art1 which we know to
 be second-hand1 or  imperfect1 and even
 trifling4 ,thus grace of manner1 for   
instance1  though wholly unaided by a   
single definite quality1 will often     
delight  us1 and a ready elocution1 with
 scarce a particle of sense1 make       
commonplace agreeable2 and it seems to  
be1 that the pain of mental  inertness  
renders action so desirable1 that the   
mind instinctively  surrounds itself    
with myriads of objects1 having little  
to recommend  them but the property of  
keeping it from stagnating4 ,and we are 
far from denying a certain value to any 
of these1 provided they  be innocent3   
there are times when even the wisest man
 will find  commonplace wholesome4 ,all 
we have attempted to show is1 that the  
effect of an original work1 as opposed  
to an imitation1 is marked by  a        
difference1 not of degree merely1 but of
 kind2 and that this  difference cannot 
fail to be felt1 not1 indeed1 by every  
one1 but by  any competent judge1 that  

is1 any one in whom is developed1 by    
natural exercise1 that internal sense by
 which the spirit of life is  discerned4
           99       99       99       99
       99    ,every original work       
becomes such from the infusion1 so to   
speak1 of  the mind of the ,author2 and 
of this the fresh materials of nature   
alone seem susceptible4 ,the imitated   
works of man cannot be endued  with a   
second life1 that is1 with a second     
mind3 they are to the  imitator as air  
already breathed4           99       99 
99       99       99    ,what has been  
said in relation to ,form--that the     
works of our  predecessors1 so far as   
they are recognized as true1 are to be  
considered as an extension of ,nature1  
and therefore proper objects  of        
study--is equally applicable to         
,composition4 ,but it is not to be      
understood that this extended ,nature   
7if we may so term it7 is in any        
instance to be imitated as a whole1     
which would be bringing our  minds into 

bondage to another2 since1 as already   
shown in the second  ,discourse1 every  
original work is of necessity impressed 
with the mind  of its author4 ,if it be 
asked1 then1 what is the advantage of   
such  study1 we shall endeavour to show1
 that it is not merely1 as some have    
supposed1 in enriching the mind with    
materials1 but rather in widening  our  
view of excellence1 and1 by consequent  
excitement1 expanding our  own powers of
 observation1 reflection1 and           
performance4 ,by increasing  the power  
of performance1 we mean enlarging our   
knowledge of the  technical process1 or 
the medium through which thought is     
expressed2  a most important species of 
knowledge1 which1 if to be otherwise    
attained1 is at least most readily      
learned from those who have left us  the
 result of their experience4 ,this      
technical process1 which has been  well 
called the language of the ,art1        
includes1 of course1 all that  pertains 
to ,composition1 which1 as the general  

medium1 also contains  most of the      
elements of this peculiar tongue4       
,from the gradual progress of the       
various arts of civilization1 it  would 
seem that only under the action of some 
great social law  can man arrive at the 
full developement of his powers4 ,in our
  ,art especially is this true2 for the 
experience of one man must  necessarily 
be limited1 particularly if compared    
with the endless  varieties of form and 
effect which diversify the face of      
,nature2 and  the finest of these1 too1 
in their very nature transient1 or of   
rare  occurrence1 and only known to     
occur to those who are prepared to seize
  them in their rapid transit2 so that  
in one short life1 and with but  one set
 of senses1 the greatest genius can     
learn but little4 ,the  ,artist1        
therefore1 must needs owe much to the   
living1 and more to the  dead1 who are  
virtually his companions1 inasmuch as   
through their  works they still live to 
our sympathies4 ,besides1 in our great  

predecessors we may be said to possess a
 multiplied life1 if life  be measured  
by the number of acts1--which1 in this  
case1 we may all  appropriate to        
ourselves1 as it were by a glance4 ,for 
the dead in ,art  may well be likened to
 the hardy pioneers of our own country1 
who have  successively cleared before us
 the swamps and forests that would have 
obstructed our progress1 and opened to  
us lands which the efforts of  no       
individual1 however persevering1 would  
enable him to reach4                    
,aphorisms4    ,sentences ,written by   
,mr4 ,allston on the ,walls of ,his     
,studio4        #a4 ,no genuine work of 
,art ever was1 or ever can be1 produced 
but for  its own sake2 if the painter   
does not conceive to please himself1 he 
will not finish to please the           
world4--,,fuseli4    #b4 ,if an ,artist 
love his ,art for its own sake1 he will 
delight in  excellence wherever he meets
 it1 as well in the work of another as  
in  his own4 ,this is the test of a true

 love4    #c4 ,nor is this genuine love 
compatible with a craving for           
distinction2  where the latter          
predominates1 it is sure to betray      
itself before  contemporary excellence1 
either by silence1 or 7as a bribe to the
  conscience7 by a modicum of praise4   
,the enthusiasm of a mind so influenced 
is confined to itself4    #d4           
,distinction is the consequence1 never  
the object1 of a great mind4    #e4 ,the
 love of gain never made a ,painter2 but
 it has marred many4    #f4 ,the most   
common disguise of ,envy is in the      
praise of what is  subordinate4    #g4  
,selfishness in ,art1 as in other       
things1 is sensibility kept at  home4   
#h4 ,the ,devil's heartiest laugh is at 
a detracting witticism4 ,hence the      
phrase devilish good has sometimes a    
literal meaning4    #i4 ,the most       
intangible1 and therefore the worst1    
kind of lie is a  half truth4 ,this is  
the peculiar device of a conscientious  
detractor4    #aj4 ,reverence is an     

ennobling sentiment2 it is felt to be   
degrading  only by the vulgar mind1     
which would escape the sense of its own 
littleness by elevating itself into an  
antagonist of what is above it4  ,he    
that has no pleasure in looking up is   
not fit so much as to look  down4 ,of   
such minds are mannerists in ,art2 in   
the world1 tyrants of  all sorts4       
#aa4 ,no right judgment can ever be     
formed on any subject having a moral  or
 intellectual bearing without           
benevolence2 for so strong is man's     
natural self-bias1 that1 without this   
restraining principle1 he  insensibly   
becomes a competitor in all such cases  
presented to his  mind2 and1 when the   
comparison is thus made personal1 unless
 the odds  be immeasurably against him1 
his decision will rarely be impartial4  
,in other words1 no one can see any     
thing as it really is through the  misty
 spectacles of self-love4 ,we must wish 
well to another in order  to do him     
justice4 ,now the virtue in this        

good-will is not to blind us  to his    
faults1 but to our own rival and        
interposing merits4    #ab4 ,in the same
 degree that we overrate ourselves1 we  
shall underrate  others2 for injustice  
allowed at home is not likely to be     
corrected  abroad4 ,never1 therefore1   
expect justice from a vain man2 if he   
has  the negative magnanimity not to    
disparage you1 it is the most you can   
expect4    #ac4 ,the ,phrenologists are 
right in placing the organ of self-love 
in  the back of the head1 it being there
 where a vain man carries his           
intellectual light2 the consequence of  
which is1 that every man he  approaches 
is obscured by his own shadow4    #ad4  
,nothing is rarer than a solitary lie2  
for lies breed like ,surinam  toads2 you
 cannot tell one but out it comes with a
 hundred young ones  on its back4       
#ae4 ,if the whole world should agree to
 speak nothing but truth1 what  an      
abridgment it would make of speech6 ,and
 what an unravelling there  would be of 

the invisible webs which men1 like so   
many spiders1 now  weave about each     
other6 ,but the contest between ,truth  
and ,falsehood  is now pretty well      
balanced4 ,were it not so1 and had the  
latter the  mastery1 even language would
 soon become extinct1 from its very     
uselessness4 ,the present superfluity of
 words is the result of the  warfare4   
#af4 ,a witch's skiff cannot more easily
 sail in the teeth of the wind1  than   
the human eye lie against fact2 but the 
truth will oftener  quiver through lips 
with a lie upon them4    #ag4 ,an open  
brow with a clenched hand shows any     
thing but an open  purpose4    #ah4 ,it 
is a hard matter for a man to lie all   
over4 ,nature  having provided king's   
evidence in almost every member4 ,the   
hand will  sometimes act as a vane to   
show which way the wind blows1 when     
every  feature is set the other way2 the
 knees smite together1 and sound the    
alarm of fear1 under a fierce           
countenance2 and the legs shake with    

anger1 when all above is calm4    #ai4  
,nature observes a variety even in her  
correspondences2 insomuch  that in parts
 which seem but repetitions there will  
be found a  difference4 ,for instance1  
in the human countenance1 the two sides 
of  which are never identical4 ,whenever
 she deviates into monotony1  the       
deviation is always marked as an        
exception by some striking  deficiency2 
as in idiots1 who are the only persons  
that laugh equally  on both sides of the
 mouth4    ,the insipidity of many of   
the antique ,statues may be traced to   
the  false assumption of identity in the
 corresponding parts4 ,no work  wrought 
by feeling 7which1 after all1 is the    
ultimate rule of  ,genius7 was ever     
marked by this monotony4    #bj4 ,he is 
but half an orator who turns his hearers
 into spectators4  ,the best gestures   
7quoad the speaker7 are those which he  
cannot  help4 ,an unconscious thump of  
the fist or jerk of the elbow is more   
to the purpose1 7whatever that may be17 

than the most graceful  cut-and-dried   
action4 ,it matters not whether the     
orator  personates a trip-hammer or a   
wind-mill2 if his mill but move with the
  grist1 or his hammer knead the iron   
beneath it1 he will not fail of  his    
effect4 ,an impertinent gesture is more 
likely to knock down the  orator than   
his opponent4    #ba4 ,the only true    
independence is in humility2 for the    
humble man  exacts nothing1 and cannot  
be mortified1--expects nothing1 and     
cannot  be disappointed4 ,humility is   
also a healing virtue2 it will cicatrize
  a thousand wounds1 which pride would  
keep for ever open4 ,but humility  is   
not the virtue of a fool2 since it is   
not consequent upon any  comparison     
between ourselves and others1 but       
between what we are and  what we ought  
to be1--which no man ever was4    #bb4  
,the greatest of all fools is the proud 
fool1--who is at the mercy  of every    
fool he meets4    #bc4 ,there is an     
essential meanness in the wish to get   

the  better of any one4 ,the only       
competition worthy1 of a wise man is    
with himself4    #bd4 ,he that argues   
for victory is but a gambler in words1  
seeking to  enrich himself by another's 
loss4    #be4 ,some men make their      
ignorance the measure of excellence2    
these  are1 of course1 very fastidious  
critics2 for1 knowing little1 they can  
find but little to like4    #bf4 ,the   
,painter who seeks popularity in ,art   
closes the door upon his  own genius4   
#bg4 ,popular excellence in one age is  
but the mechanism of what  was good in  
the preceding2 in ,art1 the technic4    
#bh4 ,make no man your idol1 for the    
best man must have faults2 and his      
faults will insensibly become yours1 in 
addition to your own4 ,this is  as true 
in ,art as in morals4    #bi4 ,a man of 
genius should not aim at praise1 except 
in the form of  sympathy2 this assures  
him of his success1 since it meets the  
feeling which possessed himself4    #cj4
 ,originality in ,art is the            

individualizing the ,universal2 in other
  words1 the impregnating some general  
truth with the individual mind4    #ca4 
,the painter who is content with the    
praise of the world in respect  to what 
does not satisfy himself1 is not an     
artist1 but an artisan2  for though his 
reward be only praise1 his pay is that  
of a  mechanic1--for his time1 and not  
for his art4    #cb4 ,reputation is but 
a synonyme of popularity2  dependent on 
suffrage1 to be increased or diminished 
at the will of  the voters4 ,it is the  
creature1 so to speak1 of its particular
 age1 or  rather of a particular state  
of society2 consequently1 dying with    
that  which sustained it4 ,hence we can 
scarcely go over a page of history1     
that we do not1 as in a church-yard1    
tread upon some buried  reputation4 ,but
 fame cannot be voted down1 having its  
immediate  foundation in the essential4 
,it is the eternal shadow of excellence1
  from which it can never be separated2 
nor is it ever made visible but  in the 

light of an intellect kindred with that 
of its author4 ,it is  that light which 
projects the shadow which is seen of the
 multitude1  to be wondered at and      
reverenced1 even while so little        
comprehended  as to be often confounded 
with the substance1--the substance being
  admitted from the shadow1 as a matter 
of faith4 ,it is the economy of         
,providence to provide such lights3 like
 rising and setting stars1 they  follow 
each other through successive ages3 and 
thus the monumental  form of ,genius    
stands for ever relieved against its own
 imperishable  shadow4    #cc4 ,all     
excellence of every kind is but variety 
of truth4 ,if we wish1  then1 for       
something beyond the true1 we wish for  
that which is false4  ,according to this
 test1 how little truth is there in     
,art6 ,little  indeed6 but how much is  
that little to him who feels it6    #cd4
 ,fame does not depend on the will of   
any man1 but ,reputation  may be given  
or taken away4 ,fame is the sympathy of 

kindred  intellects1 and sympathy is not
 a subject of willing2 while            
,reputation1 having its source in the   
popular voice1 is a sentence  which may 
either be uttered or suppressed at      
pleasure4 ,reputation1  being           
essentially contemporaneous1 is always  
at the mercy of  the envious and the    
ignorant2 but ,fame1 whose very birth is
  posthumous1 and which is only known to
 exist by the echo of  its footsteps    
through congenial minds1 can neither be 
increased  nor diminished by any degree 
of will4    #ce4 ,what light is in the  
natural world1 such is fame  in the     
intellectual2 both requiring an         
atmosphere in order  to become          
perceptible4 ,hence the fame of ,michael
 ,angelo is1 to some  minds1 a          
nonentity2 even as the sun itself would 
be invisible in  vacuo4    #cf4 ,fame   
has no necessary conjunction with       
,praise3 it may exist without  the      
breath of a word2 it is a recognition of
 excellence1 which must  be felt1 but   

need not be spoken4 ,even the envious   
must feel it1--feel  it1 and hate it1 in
 silence4    #cg4 ,i cannot believe that
 any man who deserved fame ever labored 
for  it2 that is1 directly4 ,for1 as    
fame is but the contingent of           
excellence1 it would be like an attempt 
to project a shadow1 before  its        
substance was obtained4 ,many1 however1 
have so fancied4 ,i write1  ,i paint1   
for fame1 has often been repeated3 it   
should have been1 ,i  write1 ,i paint1  
for reputation4 ,all anxiety1 therefore1
 about ,fame  should be placed to the   
account of ,reputation4    #ch4 ,a man  
may be pretty sure that he has not      
attained  excellence1 when it is not all
 in all to him4 ,nay1 ,i may add1  that1
 if he looks beyond it1 he has not      
reached it4 ,this is not the  less true 
for being good ,irish4    #ci4 ,an      
original mind is rarely understood1     
until it has been  reflected from some  
half-dozen congenial with it1 so averse 
are men to admitting the true in an     

unusual form2 whilst any  novelty1      
however fantastic1 however false1 is    
greedily swallowed4 ,nor  is this to be 
wondered at2 for all truth demands a    
response1 and few  people care to think1
 yet they must have something to supply 
the place of thought4 ,every mind would 
appear original1 if every man  had the  
power of projecting his own into the    
mind of others4    #dj4 ,all effort at  
originality must end either in the      
quaint or the  monstrous4 ,for no man   
knows himself as an original2 he can    
only  believe it on the report of others
 to whom he is made known1 as  he is by 
the projecting power before spoken of4  
#da4 ,there is one thing which no man1  
however generously disposed1 can  give1 
but which every one1 however poor1 is   
bound to pay4 ,this is  ,praise4 ,he    
cannot give it1 because it is not his   
own1--since what is  dependent for its  
very existence on something in another  
can never  become to him a possession2  
nor can he justly withhold it1 when the 

presence of merit claims it as a        
consequence4 ,as praise1 then1 cannot   
be made a gift1 so1 neither1 when not   
his due1 can any man receive it3  he may
 think he does1 but he receives only    
words2 for desert being  the essential  
condition of praise1 there can be no    
reality in the one  without the other4  
,this is no fanciful statement2 for1    
though praise may  be withheld by the   
ignorant or envious1 it cannot be but   
that1 in the  course of time1 an        
existing merit will1 on some one1       
produce its  effects2 inasmuch as the   
existence of any cause without its      
effect is an  impossibility4 ,a fearful 
truth lies at the bottom of this1 an    
irreversible justice for the weal or woe
 of him who confirms or  violates it4   
99       99       99       99       99  
,from the back of a pencil sketch4      
,let no man trust to the gentleness1 the
 generosity1 or seeming  goodness of his
 heart1 in the hope that they alone can 
safely bear him  through the temptations

 of this world4 ,this is a state of     
probation1  and a perilous passage to   
the true beginning of life1 where even  
the  best natures need continually to be
 reminded of their weakness1 and  to    
find their only security in steadily    
referring all their thoughts1  acts1    
affections1 to the ultimate end of their
 being3 yet where1  imperfect as we are1
 there is no obstacle too mighty1 no    
temptation  too strong1 to the truly    
humble in heart1 who1 distrusting       
themselves1  seek to be sustained only  
by that holy ,being who is life and     
power1  and who1 in his love and mercy1 
has promised to give to those that      
ask4--,such were my reflections1 to     
which ,i was giving way on reading  this
 melancholy story4    ,if he is         
satisfied with them1 he may rest assured
 that he is neither  fitted for this    
world nor the next4 ,even in this1 there
 are wrongs and  sorrows which no human 
remedy can reach2--no1 tears cannot     
restore  what is lost4           99     

99       99       99       99           
,written in a book of sketches1 with a  
pencil4    ,a real debt of              
gratitude--that is1 founded on a        
disinterested act of  kindness--cannot  
be cancelled by any subsequent          
unkindness on the part  of our          
benefactor4 ,if the favor be of a       
pecuniary nature1 we may1  indeed1 by   
returning an equal or greater sum1      
balance the moneyed part2  but we cannot
 liquidate the kind motive by the       
setting off against  it any number of   
unkind ones4 ,for an after injury can no
 more undo a  previous kindness1 than we
 can prevent in the future what has     
happened  in the past4 ,so neither can a
 good act undo an ill one3 a fearful    
truth6  ,for good and evil have a moral 
life1 which nothing in time can         
extinguish2 the instant they exist1 they
 start for ,eternity4 ,how1  then1 can a
 man who has once sinned1 and who has   
not of himself  cleansed his soul1 be   
fit for heaven where no sin can enter8  

,i seek not  to enter into the mystery  
of the atonement1 which even the angels 
sought to comprehend and could not2 but 
,i feel its truth in an  unutterable    
conviction1 and that1 without it1 all   
flesh must perish4  ,equally deep1 too1 
and unalienable1 is my conviction that  
the fruit of  sin is misery4 ,a second  
birth to the soul is therefore a        
necessity  which sin forces upon us4    
,ay1--but not against the desperate will
  that rejects it4    ,this conclusion  
was not anticipated when ,i wrote the   
first sentence of  the preceding        
paragraph4 ,but it does not surprise me4
 ,for it is but a  recurrence of what ,i
 have repeatedly experienced2 namely1   
that ,i never  lighted on any truth     
which ,i inwardly felt as such1 however 
apparently remote from our religious    
being1 7as1 for instance1 in the        
philosophy of my art17 that1 by         
following it out1 did not find its      
illustration and confirmation in some   
great doctrine of the ,bible1--the  only

 true philosophy1 the sole fountain of  
light1 where the dark  questions of the 
understanding which have so long stood1 
like chaotic  spectres1 between the     
fallen soul and its reason1 at once lose
 their  darkness and their terror4      
,the ,hypochondriac4#d          ,he     
would not taste1 but swallowed life at  
once2    ,and scarce had reached his    
prime ere he had bolted1    ,with all   
its garnish1 mixed of sweet and sour1   
,full fourscore years4 ,for he1 in      
truth1 did wot not    ,what most he     
craved1 and so devoured all2    ,then1  
with his gases1 followed ,indigestion1  
,making it food for night-mares and     
their foals4      ,bridgen4#e      ,it  
was the opinion of an ancient           
philosopher1 that we can have no want   
for which ,nature does not provide an   
appropriate gratification4 ,as it       
regards our physical wants1 this appears
 to be true4 ,but there are  moral      
cravings which extend beyond the world  
we live in2 and1 were we  in a heathen  

age1 would serve us with an unanswerable
 argument for the  immortality of the   
soul4 ,that these cravings are felt by  
all1 there  can be no doubt2 yet that   
all feel them in the same degree would  
be as  absurd to suppose1 as that every 
man possesses equal sensibility or      
understanding4 ,boswell's desires1 from 
his own account1 seem to have  been     
limited to reading ,shakspeare in the   
other world1--whether with  or without  
his commentators1 he has left us to     
guess2 and ,newton  probably pined for  
the sight of those distant stars whose  
light has  not yet reached us4 ,what    
originally was the particular craving of
 my  own mind ,i cannot now recall2 but 
that ,i had1 even in my boyish days1  an
 insatiable desire after something which
 always eluded me1 ,i well  remember4   
,as ,i grew into manhood1 my desires    
became less definite2 and  by the time  
,i had passed through college1 they     
seemed to have resolved  themselves into
 a general passion for doing4    ,it is 

needless to enumerate the different     
subjects which one after  another       
engaged me4 ,mathematics1 metaphysics1  
natural and moral  philosophy1 were each
 begun1 and each in turn given up in a  
passion of  love and disgust4    ,it is 
the fate of all inordinate passions to  
meet their extremes2  so was it with    
mine4 ,could ,i have pursued any of     
these studies with  moderation1 ,i might
 have been to this day1 perhaps1 both   
learned and  happy4 ,but ,i could be    
moderate in nothing4 ,not content with  
being  employed1 ,i must always be busy2
 and business1 as every one  knows1 if  
long continued1 must end in fatigue1 and
 fatigue in disgust1  and disgust in    
change1 if that be practicable1--which  
unfortunately  was my case4    ,the     
restlessness occasioned by these        
half-finished studies brought  on a     
severe fit of self-examination4 ,why is 
it1 ,i asked myself1 that  these learned
 works1 which have each furnished their 
authors with  sufficient excitement to  

effect their completion1 should thus    
weary me  before ,i get midway into     
them8 ,it is plain enough4 ,as a reader 
,i  am merely a recipient1 but the      
composer is an active agent2 a vast     
difference6 ,and now ,i can account for 
the singular pleasure1 which  a certain 
bad poet of my acquaintance always took 
in inflicting his  verses on every one  
who would listen to him2 each perusal   
being but a  sort of mental echo of the 
original bliss of composition4 ,i will  
set  about writing immediately4         
,having1 time out of mind1 heard the    
epithet great coupled with  ,historians1
 it was that1 ,i believe1 inclined me to
 write a history4  ,i chose my subject1 
and began collating1 and transcribing1  
night and  day1 as if ,i had not another
 hour to live2 and on ,i went with the  
industry of a steam-engine2 when it one 
day occurred to me1 that1  though ,i had
 been laboring for months1 ,i had not   
yet had occasion for  one original      
thought4 ,pshaw6 said ,i1 't is only    

making new clothes out  of old ones4 ,i 
will have nothing more to do with       
history4    ,as it is natural for a mind
 suddenly disgusted with mechanic toil  
to  seek relief from its opposite1 it   
can easily be imagined that my next     
resource was ,poetry4 ,every one rhymes 
now-a-days1 and so can ,i4 ,shall  ,i   
write an ,epic1 or a ,tragedy1 or a     
,metrical ,romance8 ,epics are out of   
fashion2 even ,homer and ,virgil would  
hardly be read in our time1 but  that   
people are unwilling to admit their     
schooling to have been thrown  away4 ,as
 to ,tragedy1 ,i am a modern1 and it is 
a settled thing that no  modern can     
write a tragedy2 so ,i must not attempt 
that4 ,then  for ,metrical              
,romances1--why1 they are now           
manufactured2 and1 as the  ,edinburgh   
,review says1 may be imported by us in  
bales4 ,i will bind  myself to no       
particular class1 but give free play to 
my imagination4  ,with this resolution  
,i went to bed1 as one going to be      

inspired4 ,the  morning came2 ,i ate my 
breakfast1 threw up the window1 and     
placed  myself in my elbow-chair before 
it4 ,an hour passed1 and nothing        
occurred to me4 ,but this ,i ascribed to
 a fit of laughter that seized  me1 at  
seeing a duck made drunk by eating      
rum-cherries4 ,i turned my  back on the 
window4 ,another hour followed1 then    
another1 and another3  ,i was still as  
far from poetry as ever2 every object   
about me seemed  bent against my        
abstraction2 the card-racks fascinating 
me like  serpents1 and compelling me to 
read1 as if ,i would get them by heart1 
,dr4 ,joblin1 ,mr4 ,cumberback1 ,mr4    
,milton ,bull1 c4 c4 ,i took up  my pen1
 drew a sheet of paper from my          
writing-desk1 and fixed my eyes  upon   
that2--'t was all in vain2 ,i saw       
nothing on it but the watermark1  ,d4   
,ames4 ,i laid down the pen1 closed my  
eyes1 and threw my  head back in the    
chair4 ,are you waiting to be shaved1   
,sir8 said  a familiar voice4 ,i started

 up1 and overturned my servant4 ,no1    
blockhead6--,i am waiting to be         
inspired2--but this ,i added  mentally4 
,what is the cause of my difficulty8    
said ,i4 ,something within  me seemed to
 reply1 in the words of ,lear1 ,nothing 
comes of nothing4  ,then ,i must seek a 
subject4 ,i ran over a dozen in a few   
minutes1 chose  one after another1 and1 
though twenty thoughts very readily     
occurred  on each1 ,i was fain to reject
 them all2 some for wanting pith1 some  
for belonging to prose1 and others for  
having been worn out in the  service of 
other poets4 ,in a word1 my eyes began  
to open on the truth1  and ,i felt      
convinced that that only was poetry     
which a man  writes because he cannot   
help writing2 the irrepressible         
effluence  of his secret being on every 
thing in sympathy with it1--a kind of   
flowering of the soul amid the warmth   
and the light of nature4  ,i am no poet1
 ,i exclaimed1 and ,i will not disfigure
 ,mr4 ,ames with  commonplace verses4   

,i know not how ,i should have borne    
this second disappointment1 had not  the
 title of a new ,novel1 which then came 
into my head1 suggested a  trial in that
 branch of letters4 ,i will write a     
,novel4 ,having come to  this           
determination1 the next thing was to    
collect materials4 ,they must  be sought
 after1 said ,i1 for my late experiment 
has satisfied me that  ,i might wait for
 ever in my elbow-chair1 and they would 
never come to  me2 they must be toiled  
for1--not in books1 if ,i would not deal
 in  second-hand1--but in the world1    
that inexhaustible storehouse of  all   
kinds of originals4 ,i then turned over 
in my mind the various  characters ,i   
had met with in life2 amongst these a   
few only seemed  fitted for any story1  
and those rather as accessories2 such as
 a  politician who hated popularity1 a  
sentimental grave-digger1 and a         
metaphysical rope-dancer2 but for a     
hero1 the grand nucleus of my  fable1 ,i
 was sorely at a loss4 ,this1 however1  

did not discourage me4 ,i  knew he might
 be found in the world1 if ,i would only
 take the trouble  to look for him4 ,for
 this purpose ,i jumped into the first  
stage-coach  that passed my door2 it was
 immaterial whither bound1 my object    
being  men1 not places4 ,my first day's 
journey offered nothing better than a   
sailor who rebuked a member of ,congress
 for swearing4 ,but at the third  stage1
 on the second day1 as we were changing 
horses1 ,i had the good  fortune to     
light on a face which gave promise of   
all ,i wanted4 ,it was  so remarkable   
that ,i could not take my eyes from it2 
the forehead  might have been called    
handsome but for a pair of enormous     
eyebrows1  that seemed to project from  
it like the quarter-galleries of a ship1
  and beneath these were a couple of    
small1 restless1 gray eyes1 which1      
glancing in every direction from under  
their shaggy brows1 sparkled  like the  
intermittent light of fire-flies2 in the
 nose there was  nothing remarkable1    

except that it was crested by a huge    
wart with a  small grove of black hairs2
 but the mouth made ample amends1 being 
altogether indescribable1 for it was so 
variable in its expression1  that ,i    
could not tell whether it had most of   
the sardonic1 the  benevolent1 or the   
sanguinary1 appearing to exhibit them   
all in  succession with equal vividness4
 ,my attention1 however1 was mainly     
fixed by the sanguinary2 it came across 
me like an east wind1 and  ,i felt a    
cold sweat damping my linen2 and when   
this was suddenly  succeeded by the     
benevolent1 ,i was sure ,i had got at   
the secret of  his character1--no less  
than that of a murderer haunted by      
remorse4  ,delighted with this          
discovery1 ,i made up my mind to follow 
the owner  of the face wherever he went1
 till ,i should learn his history4 ,i   
accordingly made an end of my journey   
for the present1 upon learning  that the
 stranger was to pass some time in the  
place where we stopped4  ,for three days

 ,i made minute inquiries2 but all ,i   
could gather was1  that he had been a   
great traveller1 though of what country 
no one  could tell me4 ,on the fourth   
day1 finding him on the move1 ,i took   
passage in the same coach4 ,now1 said   
,i1 is my time of harvest4 ,but ,i  was 
mistaken2 for1 in spite of all the lures
 which ,i threw out to  draw him into a 
communicative humor1 ,i could get       
nothing from him but  monosyllables4 ,so
 far from abating my ardor1 this reserve
 only the  more whetted my curiosity4   
,at last we stopped at a pleasant       
village  in ,new ,jersey4 ,here he      
seemed a little better known2 the       
innkeeper  inquiring after his health1  
and the hostler asking if the balls he  
had supplied him with fitted the barrels
 of his pistols4 ,the latter  inquiry ,i
 thought was accompanied by a           
significant glance1 that  indicated a   
knowledge on the hostler's part of more 
than met the ear2  ,i determined        
therefore to sound him4 ,after a few    

general remarks1 that  had nothing to do
 with any thing1 by way of introduction1
 ,i began by  hinting some random       
surmises as to the use to which the     
stranger might  have put the pistols he 
spoke of2 inquired whether he was in the
 habit  of loading them at night2       
whether he slept with them under his    
pillow2  if he was in the practice of   
burning a light while he slept2 and if  
he did not sometimes awake the family by
 groans1 or by walking with  agitated   
steps in his chamber4 ,but it was all in
 vain1 the man  protesting that he never
 knew any thing ill of him4 ,perhaps1   
thought  ,i1 the hostler having         
overheard his midnight wanderings1 and  
detected  his crime1 is paid for keeping
 the secret4 ,i pumped the landlord1 and
  the landlady1 and the barmaid1 and the
 chambermaid1 and the waiters1  and the 
cook1 and every thing that could speak  
in the house2 still to  no purpose1 each
 ending his reply with1 ,lord1 ,sir1    
he's as honest a  gentleman1 for aught  

,i know1 as any in the world2 then would
 come a  question1--,but perhaps you    
know something of him yourself8         
,whether my answer1 though given in the 
negative1 was uttered in such a  tone as
 to imply an affirmative1 thereby       
exciting suspicion1 ,i cannot  tell2 but
 it is certain that ,i soon after       
perceived a visible change  towards him 
in the deportment of the whole          
household4 ,when he spoke to  the       
waiters1 their jaws fell1 their fingers 
spread1 their eyes rolled1  with every  
symptom of involuntary action2 and once1
 when he asked the  landlady to take a  
glass of wine with him1 ,i saw her1     
under pretence  of looking out of the   
window1 throw it into the street2 in    
short1 the  very scullion fled at his   
approach1 and a chambermaid dared not   
enter his room unless under guard of a  
large mastiff4 ,that these              
circumstances were not unobserved by him
 will appear by what follows4    ,though
 ,i had come no nearer to facts1 this   

general suspicion1 added to  the        
remarkable circumstance that no one had 
ever heard his name 7being  known only  
as the gentleman7 gave every day new    
life to my  hopes4 ,he is the very man1 
said ,i2 and ,i began to revel in all   
the  luxury of detection1 when1 as ,i   
was one night undressing for bed1 my    
attention was caught by the following   
letter on my table4        ,,sir1       
,if you are the gentleman you would be  
thought1 you will not      refuse       
satisfaction for the diabolical         
calumnies you have so      unprovokedly 
circulated against an innocent man4     
,your obedient servant1                 
,,timoleon ,,bub4        ,p4,s4 ,i shall
 expect you at five o'clock to-morrow   
morning1 at the      three elms1 by the 
river-side4    ,this invitation1 as may 
be well imagined1 discomposed me not a  
little4 ,who ,mr4 ,bub was1 or in what  
way ,i had injured him1 puzzled  me     
exceedingly4 ,perhaps1 thought ,i1 he   
has mistaken me for another  person2 if 

so1 my appearing on the ground will soon
 set matters right4  ,with this         
persuasion ,i went to bed1 somewhat     
calmer than ,i should  otherwise have   
been2 nay1 ,i was even composed enough  
to divert myself  with the folly of one 
bearing so vulgar an appellation taking 
it into  his head to play the man of    
honor1 and could not help a waggish     
feeling of curiosity to see if his name 
and person were in keeping4    ,i woke  
myself in the morning with a loud laugh1
 for ,i had dreamt of  meeting1 in the  
redoubtable ,mr4 ,bub1 a little         
pot-bellied man1 with a  round face1 a  
red snub-nose1 and a pair of gooseberry 
wall-eyes4 ,my  fit of pleasantry was   
far from passed off when ,i came in     
sight of the  fatal elms4 ,i saw my     
antagonist pacing the ground with       
considerable  violence4 ,ah6 said ,i1 he
 is trying to escape from his unheroic  
name6  and ,i laughed again at the      
conceit2 but1 as ,i drew a little       
nearer1  there appeared a majestic      

altitude in his figure very unlike what 
,i  had seen in my dream1 and my laugh  
began to stiffen into a kind of  rigid  
grin4 ,there now came upon me something 
very like a misgiving  that the affair  
might turn out to be no joke4 ,i felt an
 unaccountable  wish that this ,mr4 ,bub
 had never been born2 still ,i advanced3
 but  if an arolite had fallen at my    
feet1 ,i could not have been more       
startled1 than when ,i found in the     
person of my challenger--the  mysterious
 stranger4 ,the consequences of my      
curiosity immediately  rushed upon me1  
and ,i was no longer at a loss in what  
way ,i had  injured him4 ,all my        
merriment seemed to curdle within me2   
and ,i felt  like a dog that had got his
 head into a jug1 and suddenly finds he 
cannot extricate it4 ,well met1 ,sir1   
said the stranger2 now  take your       
ground1 and abide the consequences of   
your infernal  insinuations4 ,upon my   
word1 replied ,i1--upon my honor1       
,sir1--and  there ,i stuck1 for in truth

 ,i knew not what it was ,i was going to
 say2  when the stranger's second1      
advancing1 exclaimed1 in a voice which  
,i immediately recognized1 ,why1 zounds6
 ,rainbow1 are you the  man8 ,is it you1
 ,harman8 ,what6 continued he1 my old   
classmate  ,rainbow turned slanderer8   
,impossible6 ,indeed1 ,mr4 ,bub1 there  
must be  some mistake here4 ,none1 ,sir1
 said the stranger2 ,i have it on  the  
authority of my respectable landlord1   
that1 ever since this  gentleman's      
arrival1 he has been incessant in his   
attempts to blacken  my character with  
every person at the inn4 ,nay1 my       
friend--,but ,i  put an end to ,harman's
 further defence of me1 by taking him   
aside1  and frankly confessing the whole
 truth4 ,it was with some difficulty ,i 
could get through the explanation1 being
 frequently interrupted with  bursts of 
laughter from my auditor2 which1 indeed1
 ,i now began to  think very natural4   
,in a word1 to cut the story short1 my  
friend  having repeated the conference  

verbatim to ,mr4 ,bub1 he was           
good-natured enough to join in the      
mirth1 saying1 with one of his best     
sardonics1 he had always had a misgiving
 that his unlucky ugly face  would one  
day or other be the death of somebody4  
,well1 we passed the  day together1 and 
having cracked a social bottle after    
dinner1 parted1  ,i believe1 as heartily
 friends as we should have been 7which  
is saying  a great deal7 had he indeed  
proved the favorite villain in my       
,novel4  ,but1 alas6 with the loss of my
 villain1 away went the ,novel4    ,here
 again ,i was at a stand2 and in vain   
did ,i torture my brains  for another   
pursuit4 ,but why should ,i seek one8   
,in fortune ,i have a  competence1--why 
not be as independent in mind8 ,there   
are thousands in  the world whose sole  
object in life is to attain the means of
 living  without toil2 and what is any  
literary pursuit but a series of mental 
labor1 ay1 and oftentimes more wearying 
to the spirits than that of  the body4  

,upon the whole1 ,i came to the         
conclusion1 that it was a very  foolish 
thing to do any thing4 ,so ,i seriously 
set about trying to do  nothing4        
,well1 what with whistling1 hammering   
down all the nails in the house  that   
had started1 paring my nails1 pulling my
 fire to pieces and  rebuilding it1     
changing my clothes to full dress though
 ,i dined alone1  trying to make out the
 figure of a ,cupid on my discolored    
ceiling1 and  thinking of a lady ,i had 
not thought of for ten years before1 ,i 
got  along the first week tolerably     
well4 ,but by the middle of the second  
week1--'t was horrible6 the hours seemed
 to roll over me like  mill-stones4     
,when ,i awoke in the morning ,i felt   
like an ,indian  devotee1 the day coming
 upon me like the great temple of       
,juggernaut2  cracking of my bones      
beginning after breakfast2 and if ,i had
 any  respite1 it was seldom for more   
than half an hour1 when a newspaper     
seemed to stop the wheels2--then away   

they went1 crack1 crack1 noon  and      
afternoon1 till ,i found myself by night
 reduced to a perfect  jelly1--good for 
nothing but to be ladled into bed1 with 
a greater  horror than ever at the      
thought of sunrise4    ,this will never 
do1 said ,i2 a toad in the heart of a   
tree lives a more  comfortable life than
 a nothing-doing man2 and ,i began to   
perceive  a very deep meaning in the    
truism of something being better than   
nothing4 ,but is a precise object always
 necessary to the mind8 ,no3 if  it be  
but occupied1 no matter with what4 ,that
 may easily be done4  ,i have already   
tried the sciences1 and made abortive   
attempts in  literature1 but ,i have    
never yet tried what is called general  
reading2--that1 thank ,heaven1 is a     
resource inexhaustible4 ,i will         
henceforth read only for amusement4 ,my 
first experiment in this way  was on    
,voyages and ,travels1 with occasional  
dippings into ,shipwrecks1  ,murders1   
and ,ghost-stories4 ,it succeeded beyond

 my hopes2 month after  month passing   
away like days1 and as for days1--,i    
almost fancied that  ,i could see the   
sun move4 ,how comfortable1 thought ,i1 
thus to travel  over the world in my    
closet6 how delightful to double ,cape  
,horn and  cross the ,african ,desert in
 my rocking-chair1--to traverse         
,caffraria  and the ,mogul's dominions  
in the same pleasant vehicle6 ,this is  
living  to some purpose2 one day dining 
on barbecued pigs in ,otaheite2 the     
next in danger of perishing amidst the  
snows of ,terra del ,fuego2 then  to    
have a lion cross my path in the heart  
of ,africa2 to run for my  life from a  
wounded rhinoceros1 and sit1 by mistake1
 on a sleeping  boa-constrictor2--this1 
this1 said ,i1 is life6 ,even the       
dangers of the  sea were but healthful  
stimulants4 ,if ,i met with a tornado1  
it was  only an agreeable variety2      
water-spouts and ice-islands gave me no 
manner of alarm2 and ,i have seldom been
 more composed than when  catching a    

whale4 ,in short1 the ease with which ,i
 thus circumnavigated  the globe1 and   
conversed with all its varieties of     
inhabitants1  expanded my benevolence2  
,i found every place1 and everybody in  
it1  even to the ,hottentots1 vastly    
agreeable4 ,but1 alas6 ,i was doomed  to
 discover that this could not last for  
ever4 ,though ,i was still  curious1    
there were no longer curiosities2 for   
the world is limited1  and new          
countries1 and new people1 like every   
thing else1 wax stale on  acquaintance2 
even ghosts and hurricanes become at    
last familiar2 and  books grow old1 like
 those who read them4    ,i was now at  
what sailors call a dead lift2 being too
 old to build  castles for the future1  
and too dissatisfied with the life ,i   
had  led to look back on the past4 ,in  
this state of mind1 ,i bought me a      
snuffbox2 for1 as ,i could not honestly 
recommend my disjointed self  to any    
decent woman1 it seemed a kind of duty  
in me to contract such  habits as would 

effectually prevent my taking in the    
lady ,i had once  thought of4 ,i set to1
 snuffing away till ,i made my nose     
sore1 and  lost my appetite4 ,i then    
threw my snuffbox into the fire1 and    
took to  cigars4 ,this change appeared  
to revive me4 ,for a short time ,i      
thought  myself in ,elysium1 and        
wondered ,i had never tried them before4
 ,thou  fragrant weed6 ,o1 that ,i were 
a ,dutch poet1 ,i exclaimed1 that ,i    
might  render due honor to thy          
unspeakable virtues6 ,ineffable tobacco6
 ,every  puff seemed like oil poured    
upon troubled waters1 and ,i felt an    
inexpressible calmness stealing over my 
frame2 in truth1 it seemed  like a      
benevolent spirit reconciling my soul to
 my body4 ,but  moderation1 as ,i have  
before said1 was never one of my        
virtues4 ,i  walked my room1 pouring out
 volumes like a moving glass-house4 ,my 
apartment was soon filled with smoke2 ,i
 looked in the glass and hardly  knew   
myself1 my eyes peering at me1 through  

the curling atmosphere1  like those of a
 poodle4 ,i then retired to the opposite
 end1 and  surveyed the furniture2      
nothing retained its original form or   
position2--the tables and chairs seemed 
to loom from the floor1 and my          
grandfather's picture to thrust forward 
its nose like a ,french-horn1  while    
that of my grandmother1 who was reckoned
 a beauty in her day1  looked1 in her   
hoop1 like her husband's wig-block stuck
 on a tub4  ,whether this was a signal  
for the fiends within me to begin their 
operations1 ,i know not2 but from that  
day ,i began to be what is called       
nervous4 ,the uninterrupted health ,i   
had hitherto enjoyed now seemed  the    
greatest curse that could have befallen 
me4 ,i had never had the  usual         
itinerant distempers2 it was very       
unlikely that ,i should always  escape  
them2 and the dread of their coming upon
 me in my advanced age  made me         
perfectly miserable4 ,i scarcely dared  
to stir abroad2  had sandbags put to my 

doors to keep out the measles2 forbade  
my  neighbours' children playing in my  
yard to avoid the whooping-cough2  and1 
to prevent infection from the small-pox1
 ,i ordered all my male  servants' heads
 to be shaved1 made the coachman and    
footman wear tow  wigs1 and had them    
both regularly smoked whenever they     
returned from  the neighbouring town1   
before they were allowed to enter my    
presence4  ,nor were these all my       
miseries2 in fact1 they were but a sort 
of  running base to a thousand other    
strange and frightful fancies2 the  mere
 skeleton to a whole body-corporate of  
horrors4 ,i became dreamy1  was haunted 
by what ,i had read1 frequently finding 
a ,hottentot1 or a  boa-constrictor1 in 
my bed4 ,sometimes ,i fancied myself    
buried in one  of the pyramids of       
,egypt1 breaking my shins against the   
bones of a  sacred cow4 ,then ,i thought
 myself a kangaroo1 unable to move      
because  somebody had cut off my tail4  
,in this miserable state ,i one evening 

rushed out of my house4 ,i know  not how
 far1 or how long1 ,i had been from     
home1 when1 hearing a  well-known voice1
 ,i suddenly stopped4 ,it seemed to     
belong to a face  that ,i knew2 yet how 
,i should know it somewhat puzzled me1  
being then  fully persuaded that ,i was 
a ,chinese ,josh4 ,my friend 7as ,i     
afterwards  learned he was7 invited me  
to go to his club4 ,this1 thought ,i1 is
 one  of my worshippers1 and they have a
 right to carry me wherever they        
please2 accordingly ,i suffered myself  
to be led4    ,i soon found myself in an
 ,american tavern1 and in the midst of a
 dozen  grave gentlemen who were        
emptying a large bowl of punch4 ,they   
each  saluted me1 some calling me by    
name1 others saying they were happy to  
make my acquaintance2 but what appeared 
quite unaccountable was my not  only    
understanding their language1 but       
knowing it to be ,english4 ,a  kind of  
reaction now began to take place in my  
brain4 ,perhaps1 said ,i1  ,i am not a  

,josh4 ,i was urged to pledge my friend 
in a glass of punch2  ,i did so2 my     
friend's friend1 and his friend1 and all
 the rest1 in  succession1 begged to    
have the same honor2 ,i complied1 again 
and again1 till at last1 the punch      
having fairly turned my  head           
topsy-turvy1 righted my understanding2  
and ,i found myself  myself4    ,this   
happy change gave a pleasant fillip to  
my spirits4 ,i returned  home1 found no 
monster in my bed1 and slept quietly    
till near noon the  next day4 ,i arose  
with a slight headache and a great      
admiration  of punch2 resolving1 if ,i  
did not catch the measles from my late  
adventure1 to make a second visit to the
 club4 ,no symptoms appearing1  ,i went 
again2 and my reception was such as led 
to a third1 and a  fourth1 and a fifth  
visit1 when ,i became a regular member4 
,i believe  my inducement to this was a 
certain unintelligible something in     
three  or four of my new associates1    
which at once gratified and kept alive  

my curiosity1 in their letting out just 
enough of themselves while ,i  was with 
them to excite me when alone to         
speculate on what was kept  back4 ,i    
wondered ,i had never met with such     
characters in books2 and  the kind of   
interest they awakened began gradually  
to widen to others4  ,henceforth ,i will
 live in the world1 said ,i2 't is my   
only remedy4 ,a  man's own affairs are  
soon conned2 he gets them by heart till 
they  haunt him when he would be rid of 
them2 but those of another can  be known
 only in part1 while that which remains 
unrevealed is a  never-ending stimulus  
to curiosity4 ,the only natural mode1   
therefore1  of preventing the mind      
preying on itself1--the only rational1  
because  the only interminable          
employment1--is to be busy about other  
people's  business4    ,the variety of  
objects which this new course of life   
each day  presented1 brought me at      
length to a state of sanity2 at least1  
,i was  no longer disposed to conjure up

 remote dangers to my door1 or chew  the
 cud on my indigested past reading2     
though sometimes1 ,i confess1  when ,i  
have been tempted to meddle with a very 
bad character1 ,i have  invariably been 
threatened with a relapse2 which leads  
me to think the  existence of some      
secret affinity between rogues and      
boa-constrictors  is not unlikely4 ,in a
 short time1 however1 ,i had every      
reason to  believe myself completely    
cured2 for the days began to appear of  
their  natural length1 and ,i no longer 
saw every thing through a pair of  blue 
spectacles1 but found nature diversified
 by a thousand beautiful  colors1 and   
the people about me a thousand times    
more interesting than  hyenas or        
,hottentots4 ,the world is now my only  
study1 and ,i trust ,i  shall stick to  
it for the sake of my health4           
,footnotes        #a ,the ,frightful is 
not the ,terrible1 though often         
confounded with it4    #b ,see          
,introductory ,discourse4    #c ,there  

is one species of imitation1 however1   
which1 as having been  practised by some
 of the most original minds1 and also   
sanctioned by the  ablest writers1      
demands at least a little consideration2
 namely1 the  adoption of an attitude1  
provided it be employed to convey a     
different  thought4 ,so far1 indeed1 as 
the imitation has been confined to a    
suggestion1 and the attitude adopted has
 been modified by the new subject1  to  
which it was transferred1 by a distinct 
change of character and  expression1    
though with but little variation in the 
disposition of limbs1  we may not       
dissent2 such imitations being virtually
 little more than  hints1 since they end
 in thoughts either totally different   
from1 or more  complete than1 the first4
 ,this we do not condemn1 for every     
,poet1 as well  as ,artist1 knows that a
 thought so modified is of right his    
own4 ,it is the  transplanting of a     
tree1 not the borrowing of a seed1      
against which we  contend4 ,but when    

writers justify the appropriation1 of   
entire figures1  without any such       
change1 we do not agree with them2 and  
cannot but think  that the examples they
 have quoted1 as in the ,sacrifice at   
,lystra1 by  ,raffaelle1 and the        
,baptism1 by ,poussin1 will fully       
support our position4  ,the antique     
basso rilievo which ,raffaelle has      
introduced in the former1  being        
certainly imitated both as to lines and 
grouping1 is so distinct1  both in      
character and form1 from the surrounding
 figures1 as to render  them a distinct 
people1 and their very air reminds us of
 another age4 ,we  cannot but believe we
 should have had a very different group1
 and far  superior in expression1 had he
 given us a conception of his own4 ,it  
would  at least have been in accordance 
with the rest1 animated with the        
superstitious enthusiasm of the         
surrounding crowd2 and especially as    
sacrificing ,priests would they have    
been amazed and awe-stricken in the     

living presence of a god1 instead of    
personating1 as in the present group1   
the cold officials of the ,temple1 going
 through a stated task at the  shrine of
 their idol4 ,in the figure by ,poussin1
 which he borrowed from  ,michael       
,angelo1 the discrepancy is still       
greater4 ,the original figure1  which   
was in the ,cartoon at ,pisa1 7now known
 only by a print17 is that of  a warrior
 who has been suddenly roused from the  
act of bathing by the  sound of a       
trumpet2 he has just leaped upon the    
bank1 and1 in his haste to  obey its    
summons1 thrusts his foot through his   
garment4 ,nothing could be  more        
appropriate than the violence of this   
action2 it is in unison with  the hurry 
and bustle of the occasion4 ,and this is
 the figure which ,poussin  7without the
 slightest change1 if we recollect      
aright7 has transferred to  the still   
and solemn scene in which ,john baptizes
 the ,saviour4 ,no one can  look at this
 figure without suspecting the          

plagiarism4 ,similar instances  may be  
found in his other works2 as in the     
,plague of the ,philistines1  where the 
,alcibiades of ,raffaelle is coolly     
sauntering among the dead and  dying1   
and with as little relation to the      
infected multitude as if he were  still 
with ,socrates in the ,school of        
,athens4 ,in the same picture may be    
found also one of the ,apostles from the
 ,cartoon of the ,draught of ,fishes3   
and we may naturally ask what business  
he has there4 ,and yet such             
appropriations have been made to appear 
no thefts1 simply because no  attempt   
seems to have been made at concealment6 
,but theft1 we must be  allowed to      
think1 is still theft1 whether committed
 in the dark1 or in the  face of day4   
,and the example is a dangerous one1    
inasmuch as it comes from  men who were 
not constrained to resort to such shifts
 by any poverty of  invention4    ,akin 
to this is another and larger kind of   
borrowing1 which1 though it  cannot     

strictly be called copying2 yet so      
evidently betrays a foreign  origin1 as 
to produce the same effect4 ,we allude  
to the adoption of the  peculiar lines1 
handling1 and disposition of masses1 c41
 of any  particular master4    #d ,first
 printed in #ahba1 in ,the ,idle ,man1  
,no4 ,,ii p4 #ch4    #e ,a feigned      
name4--,editor4