ancients on this matter, is the same with that which we have here unfolded, and that the word ideal, of which we have made use, is equivalent to the cogitata species of Cicero. Both phrases equally express that internal model, or that type of perfection belonging to every thing, a type. which no reality can offer to our senses, the existence of which the study of nature can alone reveal, and to which we ought, in imitation, to refer all the sensible and particular objects that come under our notice.

Seneca broaches the same opinion when he says that the model of the painter may be external and internal, that the external is addressed to his sight, while the internal exists in his memory or his imagination.

Such also is that of the poet, a model which, according to Plautus exists no where, but which he nevertheless finds. Quod musquam est gentium reperit tamen.

Now this model, because nowhere, is not, therefore, apart from nature or from truth, if from all that has been said we are right in concluding, that the ideal may be considered as the only nature, and the only truth, in as much as in it alone do we discover nature comprehended at large, and viewed from on high.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE IDEAL IN THEORY OUGHT ONLY TO BE EXPLAINED TO THE UNDERSTANDING, AND CAN ONLY BE SO BY RATIONAL ANA

LYSIS.

THE explanation of the ideal as given in this theory, and the consequence that definitively it is but nature viewed generally or at large, and truth considered from on high, will be sufficient to satisfy men whose minds do not require more from a theory than can be deduced by the modes of rational analysis. Now those modes are of a nature to be apprehended only by the understanding and through the channel of reasoning.

Yet that which passes under the denomination of ideal, in the fine arts, has the especial property of laying hold on the imagination, exciting admiration, and arousing the sentiments. And what is true with regard to that which produces such effects in its works, is equally true with regard to that which receives them.

Hence it is that most persons understand the ideal in a certain vague and indefinite manner, of

which they are able to give no account, and which does not admit of any explanation.

Yet the matter is very simple.

The notion of the ideal in the operations of the artist, and in the decomposition of the resources by which it is attained, may be subjected to an analytical investigation, which will disclose to the mind its means by their effects, and its effects by their means. It is for theory to do this, and it does not pretend to, neither can it; address any other than the reasoning portion of the mind. This portion or, if it be preferred, this faculty, is precisely that which is the least exercised (and necessarily so) by those who have cultivated that other faculty of the mind, which goes under the name of imagination and sentiment.

Now the imagination and sentiment of each person would fain require that it should be explained to them, what the ideal is, in the sense in which each imagines it, and as each perceives it.

I see but one answer, which is, that the imagination or the sentiment can only be employed about an explanation of this sort.

But how could sentiment be explained by sentiment, and the impressions of the imagination by the imagination?

I know of nothing more resembling a vicious circle than the explanation of a thing by the thing itself.

And this is exactly the case with those theories

of the sentiments and the imagination, which, instead of explaining a notion, only paraphrase it, and by adroit combinations of ideas or words, substitute ingenious speculations, and slight sketches, for the thing required to be shown, for the whole required to be traced out. It must be confessed that lessons such as these are agreeable to the sentiments since they harmonize with them. But if we look for the result, we shall find it void. First, because sentiment is not instrumental to comprehension, it is not the organ of instruction. Second, because a theory founded on sentiment can only teach us to feel, and not to know.

This then is the reason why all that has been said and written concerning the ideal, through the promptings of sentiment, and the impulse of imagination, has never been successful in presenting a clear and distinct notion to the judgment and understanding.

As from the nature of sentiment it can neither be analyzed nor defined, so from the same cause it can neither analyze, nor define any thing.

The ideal, therefore, cannot be explained, seeing that its effects emanate from sentiment and are addressed to it. If the reasoning faculty, overstepping the range of its attributes, seek to become to sentiment an interpreter of its impres sions, it is mistaken as to the party addressed, and will speak to what cannot understand it.

The object of all theory is to teach. One can

only teach what can be proved. One proves only to the reason and understanding. If, therefore, it is required that sentiment should be convinced by reasoning, sentiment will require an explanation of every explanation, a proof of every proof. There is, on every subject, a limit to all reasoning, which limit theory is bound to respect, and which it would be imprudent to endeavour to go beyond. There commences the insolvable. Farther we cannot go. It is the mathematical line. It is the region of the imaginary, where reason quits us, and whither none can follow us. It is also that of Icarus, where the wings of the mind too frequently abandon him... Pauci quos quos . . . ardens everit ad æthera virtus.

We shall not venture on so hazardous a route, but holding a middle course (inter utrumque viam,) shall proceed to point out to the understanding, in accordance with the object, and in the spirit, of this theory, the means through which, as taught by imitation itself, we may attain its end.