know not anything in the range of art more unspiritual than
the Apollo Belvidere; the raising of the fingers of the right hand
in surprise at the truth of the arrow is altogether human, and would
be vulgar in a prince, much more in a deity. The sandals destroy the
divinity of the foot, and the lip is curled with mortal passion.

ADDENDA.

Although the plan of the present portion of this work does not admit of
particular criticism, it will neither be useless nor irrelevant to refer
to one or two works, lately before the public, in the Exhibitions of the
Royal Academy, which either illustrate, or present exceptions to, any of
the preceding statements. I would first mention, with reference to what
has been advanced respecting the functions of Associative Imagination,
the very important work of Mr. Linnell, the "Eve of the Deluge;" a
picture upheld by its admirers (and these were some of the most
intelligent judges of the day) for a work of consummate imaginative
power; while it was pronounced by the public journals to be "a chaos of
unconcocted color." If the writers for the press had been aware of the
kind of study pursued by Mr. Linnell through many laborious years,
characterized by an observance of nature scrupulously and minutely
patient, directed by the deepest sensibility, and aided by a power of
drawing almost too refined for landscape subjects, and only to be
understood by reference to his engravings after Michael Angelo, they
would have felt it to be unlikely that the work of such a man should be
entirely undeserving of respect. On the other hand, the grounds of its
praise were unfortunately chosen; for, though possessing many merits, it
had no claim whatever to be ranked among productions of Creative art. It
would perhaps be difficult to point to a work so exalted in feeling, and
so deficient in invention. The sky had been strictly taken from nature,
this was evident at a glance; and as a study of sky it was every way
noble. To the purpose of the picture it hardly contributed; its
sublimity was that of splendor, not of terror; and its darkness that of
retreating, not of gathering, storm. The features of the landscape were
devoid alike of variety and probability; the division of the scene by
the central valley and winding river at once theatrical and commonplace;
and the foreground, on which the light was intense, alike devoid of
dignity in arrangement, and o