-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 §3. Danger is the fear of it. § 4. The highest lime. ecy-" And though after my skin worms destroy this body, $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. OF IDEAS OF TRUTH IN THEIR CONNECTION WITH THOSE OF 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 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 , 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 |