lies already in the
strings, and ability is all that is wanting, in order to move them, and
stir up each into a delightful harmony. In painting, nature is the best
instructress. She brings forth numberless beautiful and wonderful
forms, gives to them color, light, and shade; and a practised hand, an
exact eye, and a knowledge of the preparation and mixing of colors can
imitate nature to the life. How natural for us then to comprehend the
effect of these arts, and the pleasure derived from their productions.
The song of the nightingale, the whistling of the wind, and the
splendors of light, color, and form please us, because they strike our
senses agreeably; and as our senses are fitted for this by nature,
which also has the same effect, so must the artful imitation of nature
please us also. Nature herself will also draw enjoyment from the power
of art, and thence has she changed into man, and thus she now rejoices
herself over her noble splendors, separates what is agreeable and
lovely, and brings it forth by itself in such a way, that she can
possess and enjoy it in all ways and at all times and places. In the
art of poetry, on the contrary, there is nothing tangible to be met
with. It creates nothing with tools and hands. The eye and the ear
perceive it not; for the mere hearing of the words has no real
influence in this secret art. It is all internal; and as other artists
fill the external senses with agreeable emotions, so in like manner the
poet fills the internal sanctuary of the mind with new, wonderful, and
pleasing thoughts. He knows how to awaken at pleasure the secret powers
within us, and by words gives us force to see into an unknown and
glorious world. Ancient and future times, innumerable men, strange
countries, and the most singular events rise up within us, as from deep
hiding places, and tear us away from the known present. We hear strange
words and know not their import. The language of the poet stirs, up a
magic power; even ordinary words flow forth in charming melody, and
intoxicate the fast-bound listener."

"You change every curiosity into ardent impatience," said Henry. "I
cannot hear enough of these strange men. It seems to me all at once, as
if I had heard them spoken of somewhere in my earliest youth; but I can
remember nothing more about it. But what you have said to me is very
clear and easy to comprehend, and you give me great pleasure by your
beautiful descriptions."

"It is with pleasur