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

Whatever is lovely or grand in the natural world, the mysterious 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 observation 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 mind, 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 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 treas ure, 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

Variety. A faultless critic.-Axiom of Coleridge.

other. But if the resemblance is not perfect, and yet too slight to admit of contrast, we are disappointed and displeased. The windows of a building should be all perfectly alike, or so different that the various kinds would strongly contrast with each other. In the corresponding parts of a regular body, we can be satisfied only with exact conformity, and in their mere similarity dwells a species of beauty.

Variety is another means of giving interest. That is most pleasing which calls into activity the greatest number of faculties, provided there be no confusion. Nothing could be more tiresome than a long poem that presented none but heroes to our notice, or if they were the principal actors, if they were not variously discriminated. In architecture, curved and straight lines opposed to each other, give an agreeable variety to a building. And the skilful musician knows how to delight, and is himself delighted, by the inexhaustible variety of combinations that "unbind the hidden soul of harmony."

To be a faultless critic, it were necessary that all the faculties of the mind should be fully developed. It was an axiom of Coleridge, that a work of art should be judged by its intrinsic merits, not by its faults. And while the vulgar eye may perceive the defects of even the sublimest works of imagination, it takes a high degree of cultivation really to appreciate and sympathize with their excellencies.

Technical sense.-Highest object.

Painting.

PAINTING, in a technical sense, is the art which

appearance of natural objects on a plane surface, by means of colour and the management of light and shade, so as to produce the appearance of relief. As a fine art, its highest object is the beautiful, exhibited in visible forms by colours. "The ideas thus conveyed to us, have this advantage," says Richardson, an enthusiastic old writer on his art," they come not by a slow progression of words, or in a language peculiar to one nation only; but with such a velocity, and in a manner so universally understood, that it resembles inspiration or intuition-as the art by which it is effected resembles creation; things so considerable and of so great price being produced out of materials so inconsiderable, and of a value next to nothing. What a tedious thing would it be to describe by words the view of a country, and how imperfect an idea would, after all, be afforded! Painting does it effectually, with the addition of so much of its character as can be known from thence; and, moreover, in an instant recalls to your memory at least the most considerable particulars of what you have heard concerning it, or occasions that to be told which you have never heard.

"Agostino Caracci, discoursing one day on the excellency of the ancient sculptures, was profuse in his praises of the Laocoon, and