bound by these conditions of the plane surface,
can ever free itself from the circle which limits it. It is easy to
foresee that its last word will soon have been said.

_Wiertz._

XXIII

In his admirable book on Shakespeare, Victor Hugo has shown that there
is no progress in the arts. Nature, their model, is unchangeable; and
the arts cannot transcend her limits. They attain completeness of
expression in the work of a master, on whom other masters are formed.
Then comes development, and then a lapse, an interval. By-and-by, art is
born anew under the stimulus of a man who catches from Light a new
convention.

_Bracquemond._

XXIV

The painter ... does not set his palette with the real hues of the
rainbow. When he pictures to us the character of a hero, or paints some
scene of nature, he does not present us with a living man in the
character of the hero (for this is the business of dramatic art); nor
does he make up his landscape of real rocks, or trees, or water, but
with fictitious resemblances of these. Yet in these figments he is as
truly bound by the laws of the appearance of those realities, of which
they are the copy (and very much to the same extent), as the musician is
by the natural laws and properties of sound.

In short, the whole object of physical science, or, in other words, the
whole of sensible nature, is included in the domain of imitative art,
either as the subjects, the objects, or the materials of imitation:
every fine art, therefore, has certain physical sciences collateral to
it, on the abstractions of which it builds, more or less, according to
its nature and purpose. But the drift of the art itself is something
totally distinct from that of the physical science to which it is
related; and it is not more absurd to say that physiology or anatomy
constitute the science of poetry or dramatic art than that acoustics and
harmonics are the science of music; optics, of painting; mechanics, or
other branches of physical science, that of architecture.

_Dyce._

XXV

After all I have seen of Art, with nothing am I more impressed than with
the necessity, in all great work, for suppressing the workman and all
the mean dexterity of practice. The result itself, in quiet dignity, is
the only worthy attainment. Wood-engraving, of all things most ready for
dexterity, reads us a good lesson.

_Edward Calvert._

XXVI

Shall Painting be confined to the sordid drudgery of facsimile
repres