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-y perhaps be wondered that in the division we have our subject, we have taken no notice of the sublime in that in our explanation of that division we have not the word.

is

any

The fact is, that sublimity is not a specific pon term,-not a term descriptive of the effect of a 1. particular class of ideas. Anything which elevates is sublime, and elevation of mind is produced by the conn of greatness of any kind; but chiefly, of course, by the of the noblest things. Sublimity is, therefore, only and for the effect of greatness upon the feelings. Greatness space, power, virtue, or beauty, are thus all sublime; is perhaps no desirable quality of a work of art, which fection is not, in some way or degree, sublime.

the

I am fully prepared to allow of much ingenunaity in Burke's theory of the sublime, as connected ect, with self-preservation. There are few things so

Sub

great as death; and there is perhaps nothing which all littleness of thought and feeling in an equal degree contemplation. Everything, therefore, which in any s to it, and, therefore, most dangers and powers over have little control, are in some degree sublime. But he fear, observe, but the contemplation of death; not ctive shudder and struggle of self-preservation, but the measurement of the doom, which are really great or n feeling. It is not while we shrink, but while we ; we receive or convey the highest conceptions of the ere is no sublimity in the agony of terror. Whether ce it most in the cry to the mountains, "fall on us," e hills, cover us," or in the calmness of the proph

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§3. Danger is the fear of it.

§ 4. The highest

lime.

ecy-" And though after my skin worms destroy this body,
yet in my flesh I shall see God?" A little reflec-
sublime, but not tion will easily convince any one, that so far from
the feelings of self-preservation being necessary to
the sublime, their greatest action is totally destructive of it;
and that there are few feelings less capable of its perception
than those of a coward. But the simple conception or idea of
greatness of suffering or extent of destruction is sublime,
whether there be any connection of that idea with ourselves or
not. If we were placed beyond the reach of all peril or pain,
the perception of these agencies in their influence on others
would not be less sublime, not because peril or pain are sublime
in their own nature, but because their contemplation, exciting
compassion or fortitude, elevates the mind, and
beauty is sub- renders meanness of thought impossible. Beauty
is not so often felt to be sublime; because, in
many kinds of purely material beauty there is some truth in
Burke's assertion, that "littleness" is one of its elements. But
he who has not felt that there may be beauty without littleness,
and that such beauty is a source of the sublime, is yet ignorant
of the meaning of the ideal in art. I do not mean,
§ 5. And generally
whatever elevates in tracing the source of the sublime to greatness,
the mind. to hamper myself with any fine-spun theory. I
take the widest possible ground of investigation, that sub-
limity is found wherever anything elevates the mind; that is,
wherever it contemplates anything above itself, and perceives
it to be so. This is the simple philological signification of the
word derived from sublimis; and will serve us much more
easily, and be a far clearer and more evident ground of argu-
ment, than any mere metaphysical or more limited definition,
while the proof of its justness will be naturally developed by its
application to the different branches of art.

$6. The former

subject is therefore sufficient.

As, therefore, the sublime is not distinct from division of the what is beautiful, nor from other sources of pleasure in art, but is only a particular mode and manifestation of them, my subject will divide itself into the investigation of ideas of truth, beauty, and relation; and to each of these classes of ideas I destine a separate part of the work. The investigation of ideas of truth will enable us to deter

ine the

mature.

That of

their attain

then in cold of their con

And tha riginators

e relative rank of artists as followers and historians of

of ideas of beauty will lead us to compare them in ainment, first of what is agreeable in technical matters, color and composition, finally and chiefly, in the purity conceptions of the ideal.

that of ideas of relation will lead us to compare them as ors of just thought.

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OF IDEAS OF TRUTH IN THEIR CONNECTION WITH THOSE OF
BEAUTY AND RELATION.

IT cannot but be evident from the above division of the ideas conveyable by art, that the landscape painter must always have two great and distinct ends; the first, to induce in the specta§ 1. The two great tor's mind the faithful conception of any natural ends of landscape objects whatsoever; the second, to guide the spectator's mind to those objects most worthy of its contemplation, and to inform him of the thoughts and feelings with which these were regarded by the artist himself.

painting are the representation

of facts and

thoughts.

In attaining the first end, the painter only places the spectator where he stands himself; he sets him before the landscape and leaves him. The spectator is alone. He may follow out his own thoughts as he would in the natural solitude, or he may remain untouched, unreflecting and regardless, as his disposition may incline him. incline him. But he has nothing of thought given to him, no new ideas, no unknown feelings, forced on his attention or his heart. The artist is his conveyance, not his companion, his horse, not his friend. But in attaining the sec

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the impet

ence.

(They indu tct choic material subje

at all, but as may be times; and attainment

end end, s rather than

Lght upon

in themselv

13. The first

mode of selectio pt to produce someness and

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, the artist not only places the spectator, but talks to makes him a sharer in his own strong feelings and houghts; hurries him away in his own enthusiasm ; im to all that is beautiful; snatches him from all that is d leaves him more than delighted, ennobled and in, under the sense of having not only beheld a new ut of having held communion with a new mind, and been endowed for a time with the keen perception and etuous emotion of a nobler and more penetrating intelli

duce a

bjects.

Each of these different aims of art will necessioice of tate a different system of choice of objects to be represented. The first does not indeed imply choice ut it is usually united with the selection of such objects be naturally and constantly pleasing to all men, at all and this selection, when perfect and careful, leads to the ent of the pure ideal. But the artist aiming at the sec1, selects his objects for their meaning and character, han for their beauty; and uses them rather to throw Don the particular thought he wishes to convey, than as selves objects of unconnected admiration.

-st

section

Auce and

Now, although the first mode of selection, when guided by deep reflection, may rise to the production of works possessing a noble and ceaseence on the human mind, it is likely to degenerate into, r, in nine cases out of ten, it never goes beyond, a mere o such parts of our animal nature as are constant and -shared by all, and perpetual in all; such, for inas the pleasure of the eye in the opposition of a cold and olor, or of a massy form with a delicate one. It also induce constant repetition of the same ideas, and referthe same principles; it gives rise to those rules of art roperly excited Reynolds's indignation when applied to er efforts; it is the source of, and the apology for, that technicalities and absurdities which in all ages have been e of art and the crown of the connoisseur.

cond

ag va

But art, in its second and highest aim, is not an appeal to constant animal feelings, but an expression and awakening of individual thought: it

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