veritable pan in the picture at once? If art is only a more or less
successful imitation of natural objects, with a view to cheat the
senses, it is an amusing game, but it is not a noble pursuit.

It is an equally false observation of experience; because, if the
spectator were really deceived, if the actor became, in the mind of
the audience, truly identical with the character he represents, then,
when that character was odious, the audience would revolt. If we
cannot quietly sit and see one dog tear another, without interfering,
could we gravely look on and only put our handkerchiefs to our eyes,
when Othello puts the pillow to the mouth of Desdemona? If we really
supposed him to be a murderous man, how instantly we should leap upon
the stage and rescue "the gentle lady". The truth is, to state it
boldly, we know the roaring lion to be only Snug, the joiner.

All works of art must produce pleasure. Even the sternest and most
repulsive subjects must be touched by art into a pensive beauty, or
they fail to reach the height of great works. Goethe has shown this in
the _Laocoon_, and every man feels it in constant experience. One of
the grand themes of modern painting is the great tragedy of history,
the Crucifixion. Materially it is repulsive, as the spectacle of a man
in excruciating bodily torture; spiritually it is overwhelming, as the
symbolized suffering of God for sin. If, now, the pictures which treat
this subject were indeed only imitations of the scene, so that the
spectator listened for the groans of agony and looked to see the blood
drop from the brow crowned with thorns, how hideous and insupportable
the sight would be! The mind is conscious as it contemplates the
picture that it is a representation, and not a fact. The mere force of
actuality is, therefore, destroyed, and thought busies itself with the
moral significance of the scene. In the same way, in the tragedy of