to discover that which effects of this kind possess or
suggest, peculiar to themselves, and which other effects of light and
color possess not. There _must_ be something in them of a peculiar
character, and that, whatever it be, must be one of the primal and most
earnest motives of beauty to human sensation.

Do they show finer characters of form than can be developed by the
broader daylight? Not so; for their power is almost independent of the
forms they assume or display; it matters little whether the bright
clouds be simple or manifold, whether the mountain line be subdued or
majestic, the fairer forms of earthly things are by them subdued and
disguised, the round and muscular growth of the forest trunks is sunk
into skeleton lines of quiet shade, the purple clefts of the hill-side
are labyrinthed in the darkness, the orbed spring and whirling wave of
the torrent have given place to a white, ghastly, interrupted gleaming.
Have they more perfection or fulness of color? Not so; for their effect
is oftentimes deeper when their hues are dim, than when they are
blazoned with crimson and pale gold; and assuredly, in the blue of the
rainy sky, in the many tints of morning flowers, in the sunlight on
summer foliage and field, there are more sources of mere sensual
color-pleasure than in the single streak of wan and dying light. It is
not then by nobler form, it is not by positiveness of hue, it is not by
intensity of light, (for the sun itself at noonday is effectless upon
the feelings,) that this strange distant space possesses its attractive
power. But there is one thing that it has, or suggests, which no other
object of sight suggests in equal degree, and that is,--Infinity. It is
of all visible things the least material, the least finite, the farthest
withdrawn from the earth prison-house, the most typical of the nature of
God, the most suggestive of the glory of his dwelling-place. For the sky
of night, though we may know it boundless, is dark, it is a studded
vault, a roof that seems to shut us in and down, but the bright distance
has no limit, we feel its infinity, as we rejoice in its purity of
light.

Sec. 6. Infinity how necessary in art.

Now not only is this expression of infinity in distance most precious
wherever we find it, however solitary it may be, and however unassisted
by other forms and kinds of beauty, but it is of that value that no such
other forms will altogether recompense us for its loss; and m