lishes itself in the way we have now described wherever it is mere nature. In the case in which we have here to speak of it,—as the reaction of the Third Age against itself,—it is not mere nature but chiefly Art. It proceeds from deliberate opposition to the principle of the Third Age; from dissatisfaction with the recognised emptiness and impotence of that Age; from the opinion that man can save himself from this emptiness and impotence only by means of the principle directly opposed to the commonly received notion of the comprehensibility of all things,—i.e. by the Incomprehensible; and from the determination which arises therefrom, to establish such an Incomprehensible. Further, there is in the Third Age, and in all natures which proceed from it, but little energy to be applied to this Mysticism. How then do its adherents establish this Incomprehensible, and summon up the amount of Mysticism which they actually exhibit? They proceed in this way:—They set to work to invent some imaginary theory as to the hidden principles of Nature,—for it is the invariable habit of the Mystic to place Nature before him as his object; he admits whatever fancies may occur to his mind, and entertains those among them which are most agreeable to him; stimulating himself, should such fancies not flow so readily as he desires, by means of physical appliances,—the recognised and established support of all Artists in Mysticism, in ancient and modern times, amongst rude and civilized people;—a means through which the clearness, discretion, and freedom which belong to genuine Speculation, and which demand the highest degree of temperance, are infallibly lost, and from the use of which, for the sake of production, we may at once and with certainty conclude that what is produced is not true Speculation but mere Mysticism. If even with the aid of these accessories the veins of fancy still do not flow with sufficient fulness, recourse is had to the writings of former Mystics. The more singular and the
