"The true, the good, and the beautiful," says Cousin, "are but forms of
the infinite: what then do we really love in truth, beauty, and virtue? We
love the infinite himself. The love of the infinite substance is hidden
under the love of its forms. It is so truly the infinite which charms in
the true, the good, and the beautiful, that its manifestations alone do
not suffice. The artist is dissatisfied at the sight even of his greatest
works; he aspires still higher."
It is indeed sometimes objected that Landscape painting is not true to
nature; but we must ask, What is truth? Is the object to produce the same
impression on the mind as that created by the scene itself? If so, let any
one try to draw from memory a group of mountains, and he will probably
find that in the impression produced on his mind the mountains are loftier
and steeper, the valleys deeper and narrower, than in the actual reality.
A drawing, then, which was literally exact would not be true, in the sense
of conveying the same impression as Nature herself.
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