That pleasure which is at
once the most intense, the most elevating, and the most pure is, I
believe, found in the contemplation of the beautiful. When, indeed,
men speak of Beauty, they mean, precisely, not a quality, as is
supposed, but an effect- they refer, in short, just to that intense
and pure elevation of soul- not of intellect, or of heart- upon
which I have commented, and which is experienced in consequence of
contemplating the "beautiful." Now I designate Beauty as the
province of the poem, merely because it is an obvious rule of Art that
effects should be made to spring from direct causes- that objects
should be attained through means best adapted for their attainment- no
one as yet having been weak enough to deny that the peculiar elevation
alluded to is most readily attained in the poem. Now the object Truth,
or the satisfaction of the intellect, and the object Passion, or the
excitement of the heart, are, although attainable to a certain
extent in poetry, far more readily attainable in prose. Truth, in
fact, demands a precision, and Passion, a homeliness (the truly
passionate will comprehend me), which are absolutely antagonistic to
that Beauty which, I maintain, is the excitement or pleasurable
elevation of the soul. It by no means follows, from anything here
said, that passion, or even truth, may not be introduced, and even
profitably introduced, into a poem for they may serve in
elucidation, or aid the general effect, as do discords in music, by
contrast- but the true artist will always contrive, first, to tone
them into proper subservience to the predominant aim, and, secondly,
to enveil them, as far as possible, in that Beauty which is the
atmosphere and the essence of the poem.
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