gs,
who _don't_ see them, but think they can calculate or compose into
existence what is to them for evermore invisible. If some people really
see angels where others see only empty space, let them paint the angels;
only let not anybody else think _they_ can paint an angel, too, on any
calculated principles of the angelic.

Sec. 3. If, therefore, when we go to a place, we see nothing else than is
there, we are to paint nothing else, and to remain pure topographical or
historical landscape painters. If, going to the place, we see something
quite different from what is there, then we are to paint that--nay, we
_must_ paint that, whether we will or not; it being, for us, the only
reality we can get at. But let us beware of pretending to see this
unreality if we do not.

The simple observance of this rule would put an end to nearly all
disputes, and keep a large number of men in healthy work, who now
totally waste their lives; so that the most important question that an
artist can possibly have to determine for himself, is whether he has
invention or not. And this he can ascertain with ease. If visions of
unreal things present themselves to him with or without his own will,
praying to be painted, quite ungovernable in their coming or
going,--neither to be summoned if they do not choose to come, nor
banished if they do,--he has invention. If, on the contrary, he only
sees the commonly visible facts; and, should he not like them, and want
to alter them, finds that he must think of a _rule_ whereby to do so, he
has no invention. All the rules in the world will do him no good; and if
he tries to draw anything else than those materially visible facts, he
will pass his whole life in uselessness, and produce nothing but
scientific absurdities.

Sec. 4. Let him take his part at once, boldly, and be content. Pure history
and pure topography are most precious things; in many cases more useful
to the human race than high imaginative work; and assuredly it is
intended that a large majority of all who are employed in art should
never aim at anything higher. It is _only_ vanity, never love, nor any
other noble feeling, which prompts men to desert their allegiance to the
simple truth, in vain pursuit of the imaginative truth which has been
appointed to be for evermore sealed to them.

Nor let it be supposed that artists who possess minor degrees of
imaginative gift need be embarrassed by the doubtful sense of their own
powers. In gen