Art a universal language.—Italy.--Rules of criticism.

Art is a universal language, limited to no age and no country. It speaks to us from the past in a well-known voice, and binds us to the generations of the departed with feelings of sympathy which it is well to cherish. But for her poets, her painters, her sculptors, her architects, how would Greece,

"Immortal Greece, dear land of glorious lays,"

address us from the olden time? But in the harsh and discordant voice of anarchy and war, and far from being a watchword to call up thoughts of chaste and exalted beauty, and lofty heroic glory, she would scarcely appear elevated above the barbarous tribes of the north.

Nature, in

To Italy, the present sanctuary of the arts, the eye turns with peculiar fondness, as to the trysting-place of the world; a neutral ground, where all become fellow-denizens with the great souls of the past, who still live in their works. its sublimest scenes, awes and subdues the soul, while art excites the mind, and challenges it to activity. It is the achievement of man, and conveys the idea of human power and energy; and by that action and reaction that passes from mind to mind, till, like the restless waves of ocean, commingling and separating, each forms a part of each; by that pervading sympathy that forms, and moulds, and develops, as, with increasing power, it passes from age to age, does it call aloud on the soul of man to awake and act.

A FEW GENERAL RULES OF CRITICISM.

The rules of criticism are not arbitrary, they are drawn necessarily from the constitution of our intellectual nature

Fashion.-Manner.- Idealizing.-Talent and genius.

There is in the mind of man an innate power of appreciating the beautiful. True, the wayward prejudices of fashion may. for a time, esteem deformity an excellence; it may even find delight in distorting that most perfect work of nature, the human form. Still the standard of beauty is unchanged and unchangeable, however custom may sanction that which is ungraceful and inelegant. Both the eye and the ear may become the slave of habit, and receive most pleasure from the peculiarities of manner to which they have been accustomed; hence enlightened criticism will seek for beauty independently of differing styles.

Art is not satisfied with merely copying nature; it seeks to refine it, or rather to seize its hidden soul, and embody it anew. It rejects all that is common-place, and even succeeds in enduing matter with an air expressive of intellect or sentiment, A column of fine proportions seems to tower up in conscious majesty, and the poet may impart a peculiar expression to the delicate flower, or the beetling cliff. Art, then, in its highest develop ment, is not only an imitation of nature, but an ideal, an etherealized representation both of natural objects and of human nature. Who cannot recall some scene, that, without particular interest when beheld in broad sunshine, became invested with exceeding beauty when the sun threw his gorgeous cloudy mantle to the breeze, and suffused earth and air in a flood of soft radiance; when the deepening shadows of twilight brought out more fully each feature of the landscape, and beautified it as much by what it hid as by what it revealed. Thus, exalted art casts an ideal light, a sunset glow over the object imitated. The artist aims not only at copies of nature, but at re-creations of it. In this consists the nature of artistic genius; talent can copy, or cement together scattered fragments, but genius alone can, out of various elements, bring organized life and beauty.

Chaos of artist.-Natural language of the mind.-Oneness.

Whatever is lovely or grand in the natural world, the myste rious stars, the gloomy storm, the sunset sky, the frail flower, the soaring mountain, the glittering dew-drop, all serve to open the artist's mind and interest his heart. And in that other world, the world of illimitable spirit, he is continually searching and wondering. The knowledge of mankind, as learned from obser vation and the developments of art, is enlightened by a selfconsciousness which can sympathize with, and understand the workings of the human heart, revealing, in all their depth, the passions and aspirations of man. This gathered fund of natural beauty and knowledge of humanity, forms, so to speak, the chaos of the artist, whence his creations are produced. And not exactly by combining a selection from these objects; for as the forest leaves, and the flowers that grew in their shade, are decomposed, and wither into dust but to spring afresh into organized beauty, so outward things enrich the artist's mind and heart. And while thousands can appreciate the beauties of nature and art, many with as pure a love as that of the artist himself, yet it is but here and there that one is found who can reproduce these materials into order and beauty. The power to do this constitutes genius; a relish for the beautiful is denominated taste.

Art is the natural language of the higher faculties of the Inind, and is comprehended by every cultivated intellect. Whatever calls into exercise the powers of the mind, delights us; and whatever is agreeable to all well developed minds must be the standard of the rules of art. What would be agreeable to a perfect mind, if such could exist in our fallen world, might be I called the standard of the laws of art. Taste is the result of the harmony of many faculties. They need exercise in order to development, but they are inherent in the mind.

Oneness may be called the first requisite in a production

Completeness. Truthfulness.

of art. In literary works of genius there is ever a right onwardness, a rushing to the end, which keeps the mind awake and alert. So in all works of art there should be nothing superfluous, nothing to break the unity or confuse the identity; there should be one focus of attraction, or rather one radiating point, whence the interest should flow. Every episode and concomitant circumstance should be subordinate, and should bear a definite and explanatory relation to the whole. A beautiful work of art is often ruined by having some foreign circumstance grafted upon it, while the two subjects, separately executed, would both have been excellent. Again, nothing should be omitted that is necessary to completeness. Every production of art should, as it were, live of itself, and be endowed with a voice to speak its own intention. The "Ancient Mariner," is a poem that entirely fails in this respect. It was even expedient to place along the margin an explanation that "telleth what the text meaneth." And yet the wizard genius has touched it with his wand, and it gleams with enchanting beauty. Written probably without design and without aim, its undersong of kindly all-pervading love has, I doubt not, sunk into many an unconscious heart. Rules do not create genius, but genius creates rules, and may also dispense with them.

In the next place, truthfulness, or consistency is essential. The mind is disgusted with falsehood in any shape. Though the poet lay his scenes in fairy-land, or the painter place upon his canvass the imaginary beings of the supernatural world, there must be no inconsistency of circumstances, nothing impossible in the nature of things as represented; every thing must seem to be produced by an adequate cause. That a fairy should engage in actual conflict with a furious beast, or that a Titan should dally with tiny flowers, would be alike ridiculous; while the fairy might tame the animal by a magic syllable, or reduce to weak.

Proportion.-Single objects.-Contrast.-Uniformity.

ness the sinewy giant by anointing him with the juice of charmed flowers, without violating probability, for no limit can be placed upon supernatural power.

Again, symmetrical proportions are necessary. Every part should have its due relation to all the others, and to the whole, and should be made prominent and conspicuous in proportion to its importance. Heavy columns to support a light architrave, or a large portico to a small building, is invariably displeasing. With regard to the form of single objects, when viewed without respect to utility or their relation to other things, we seem to judge by innate perception; certain shapes are intrinsically beautiful. Two vases may be of nearly the same dimensions, and equally adapted to hold the precious perfume or the floral treasure, and yet the form of one be really unpleasing to the eye, while that of the other may excite strong feelings of delight. Gently curving and undulating outlines are most beautiful, and thence are generally employed by Nature in her smaller and more delicate productions, while bold angular outlines characterize her larger and sublimer works; each is agreeable in its place.

The advantages of contrast to heighten effect are so well understood, that it is constantly employed by the artist. But if the design be obvious, the effect will most probably be lost. The mind refuses to believe that one object is large because another is small, or that one is beautiful because another is not. When properly used we are unconscious of its employment, while we feel its power. "False and groundless comparisons," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, never strike us as such, if they answer the end designed." And as the eye is pleased with contrast, so also is it gratified with exact uniformity. We delight to compare two similar objects, and discover that they exactly resemble each