siastic in discovering the symbols in expression, by means of features, of proportion, of bodily habitudes, of costume, and otherwise, which correspond with feelings, and will appreciate with nicety the modes and degrees in which the variety of internal moods thus indicate themselves; and he will discriminate what is not capable of such expression at all. He will habitually, in imagination, project mental conceptions of emotions and sentiments into their bodily correspondences, and, in the mind's eye, see them conjoined, as one, in the execution of the act of the soul. Examples show us to what an amazing perfection of delicacy this power may be attained, when the natural capacity for it is carefully cultivated.

III. What has been remarked are merely the discipline, and the conceptions, of the mind. If nothing more were possessed, a critic might be formed, but not a painter. There must besides be the power of transferring to the canvas the images arrived at mentally in the way above set forth-images, which, as we have seen, the principles of art require as much to express thought, as external forms and features. The execution, we believe, never comes up to the idea of the artist, and yet it must correspond to it in some adequate measure. Then the artist will see his idea in his painting, and the observer will be led to supply it. Hence, there should not be an overfinish in a painting; this is a sign of weakness, as it withdraws attention from the idea, and substitutes the pleasing of the eye for the activity of the soul. The artist must never forget, that the chief merit of a painting lies, not in what it looks to the eye, but what it means to the mind.

The object of the artist, as already observed, should be to paint, not on the level of literal, ordinary life,—which would be mere photography,-but according to an ideal or universal expression, such as the figures might and ought to possess, if actuated by the loftiest spirit of the characters they represent, or of the situations they fill, and such, consequently, as is at once individual and comprehensive in its nature. This ideal, or universal, is neither easily described, nor easily attained. It must not be confounded with misty obscurity, or with inflated pretension. It must not be imagined to exclude indi

viduality; on the contrary, the want of this, (and well marked too,) would be a great defect; but the individuality must be such as not to belie the generic character of the expression, as embracing a class, or its elevation, as raised quite above the commonplace. Every one must have observed how tame are pictures of the abstract passions, from the want of this quality. Even in so simple a matter as that of handwriting, a vigorous and characteristic hand, though not a letter will stand the test of the strict rule, is far more pleasing and expressive than the finest copperplate. The elevated style demanded has much the same quality as that which distinguishes true poetry from prose. How different is the character of the elevated parts of Shakspeare and Milton from even the best prose composition; and yet how solid, how tranquil, how definite and lucid, as well as high-toned and lofty, their flow and comprehensiveness of thoughts, not less than of words! The kind of expression in question is connected with a faculty which the soul possesses, and which belongs to its essence, of contemplating, and of representing, the qualities and the unity of being, according to a higher and more spiritual measure, than is experienced, or would be suitable for us, on the level of the common earthly life. All men are more or less conscious of having such an ideal in their souls. This ideal does not extinguish, but should ever illuminate, the particular example. While most men have only a transient impression of it, it should be habitually present to the mind of the artist, as the perfect standard, which his work indeed does not represent, (for this is impossible,) but which it is constantly to suggest. How is this style to be attained by the artist? Only by his being himself under the influence of the elevation which he tries to confer on his subject. The means are in his power to produce the desired effect, if he have reliance on the truth of his convictions. So united is our nature, in all its powers, that the capable and well-instructed hand will, under this influence, depict forms, fitted to express, and to suggest to the intelligent observer, in all their delicacy, the very intellectual and passional experiences, present to the mind which guides it.

IV. There are many preliminary and indispensable, though

subordinate matters, connected with finished excellence in the art of Figure-painting, on which we need not dwell,--such as, the mechanical rules of drawing and perspective, the principles of anatomy bearing on external form and action, those of grouping, the laws of color, the due use of examples by acknowledged masters, and such-like.

The principles above set forth furnish the means for judging what is a work of genius in Figure-painting, and what is a work of mere talent.

There are, we have seen, three fundamental requisites: 1. The conception in the artist's mind in an elevated form of a genuine human character, under a true emotion, or other mental affection; 2, his conception of the embodiment of this in just expression and gesture; and, 3, the transfer of the idea thus obtained to the canvas, under the impulse of the same mental energy which gave birth to it. We purposely keep the first two apart, because the duality of the mental act is apt to be overlooked, and one of them surreptitiously made to stand for both; which leads to these results,-that the first without the second produces an abortion, and that the second without the first leads to a melo-dramatic aping of effect, without substance. A painting, possessed of all the requisites described, is a work of genius. It may represent a character of the simplest kind,-such as "Peele's Little Reedplayer," a compound of innocent simplicity and rapt intelligence,—and it will arouse the mind, and seem to shed a very light all around it; or it may represent a complicated historical scene, with incidents and characters of the highest dignity; and yet, though in the latter case the interest will be more elevated, and a superior ability acknowledged, the mind, in both cases, will be affected in modes not generically different. The artist having, in both alike, painted after a living model conceived in his own mind, his work will transmit to the observer the consciousness of the living image which suggested it. One of Reynolds's masterpieces was a Strawberry Girl.

On the other hand, a painting, not originating in some considerable amount of elevated mental activity, such as has been

before explained, may be a work of talent, and even of research and learning, but, (whatever other merits it may have,) it cannot be a work of genius. It may be possessed, in a high degree, of all the qualities connected with the fourth of the foregoing general heads,-a good design, accurate drawing, and all the requisites of beauty, in form, contour, and color,-but let the painter have derived them only from imitation, and be void of a living portraiture in his mind, as the prototype of his work, and the result, (as regards genial expression,) will have no more life, than the source from which he took it.

Intermediate between these two styles,-of true art, and of that which is inferior and imitated,-there is that of the representation of natural expression from real life, not commonplace but characteristic, yet without Ideality. This is a style which is not uncommon, and which has solid merit of its own. The subjects of pictures of this class are usually taken from familiar life, as those of Hogarth and Wilkie were; but one cannot fail to notice the generic difference between a specimen of the former, and the pictures of the latter, (notwithstanding the tendency of Hogarth to caricature.) It is important that this style should be carefully observed by the young artist, as a stepping-stone to the highest, for this can be successfully reached only from the basis of exact and literal nature. The drawing of those artists, who do not rise above this style, has usually a lumpish, unintelligent character, arising from the want of elevation in their thoughts.

It will readily be seen, from the above explanations, that the onward progress of a painter of genius can be arrested only by the decay of his powers; because his work, and its objects, are both infinite. It is a continued education of his soul. The progress of a painter of mere talent is confined within comparatively narrow limits, and may be terminated by an early maturity of powers.

It is remarkable, that the capacity for producing works of the Fine Arts of the highest class, distinguished a period, which we are apt to regard as much behind the present in point of intelligence; while it is not to be found in modern times. The following is the remark of Coleridge to this effect,

in regard to one branch of art:-"The more I see of modern pictures, the more I am convinced, that the ancient art of painting is gone, and something substituted for it,—very pleasing, but different, and different in kind, and not in degree only. Portraits by the old masters are pictures of men and women; they fill, not merely occupy, a space; they represent individuals, but individuals as types of a species. Modern portraits give you not the man, not the inward humanity, but merely the external mark, that in which Tom is different from Bill."

The reason for this state of things is indicated in an observation of Edmund Burke, which appears in the "Recollections of Rogers:"" In this age, more respect is shown to talent than to wisdom,-but I consider our forefathers deeper thinkers than ourselves, because they set a higher value on good sense, than on knowledge of various sciences; and their good sense was derived very often from as much study, and more knowledge, though of another sort."

A few words of comment on these statements of two of the greatest thinkers of modern times, will form a fitting close to this discussion.

The scientific mind is predominant in our days, and this, though capable of producing surprising results in its own sphere, is shallow as regards human nature; and its comparative value is quite over-estimated. It requires the attention to be carried outward, its instruments being the intellect and the senses, where are found the faculties for observing, classifying, and computing agreements and differences among external things, according to relations, whose nature is superficial. The knowledge of the human heart, and of its outgrowths, morally and spiritually, is quite alien from the habit of mind thus produced. Not but that there is a great deal of information (as distinguished from insight) as to this, and all subjects, in so observing and indefatigable an age as the present, possessed, as it is, of so great abundance of materials, derived from the past. But it is knowledge, which it can use chiefly for criticism, and but little for creation. Its consciousness, that is, its knowledge of self and its laws, instead of prompting to ac