One cannot but be astonished not to see, in this review of the principal forms of oriental art, Chinese art at least mentioned. The reason is, that, according to Hegel, art—the fine arts, properly speaking—have no existence among the Chinese. The spirit of that people seems to him anti-artistic and prosaic. He thus characterizes Chinese art in his philosophy of history: “This race, in general, has a rare talent for imitation, which is exercised not only in the things of daily life, but also in art. It has not yet arrived at the representation of the beautiful as beautiful. In painting, it lacks perspective and shading. European images, like everything else, it copies well. A Chinese painter knows exactly how many scales there are on the back of a carp, how many notches a leaf has; he knows perfectly the form of trees and the curvature of their branches; but the sublime, the ideal, and the beautiful, do not belong at all to the domain of his art and his ability.”—(_Philosophie der Geschichte._) MUSIC AS A FORM OF ART. [Read before the St. Louis Art Society, February, 1867.] I. Upon Art-Criticism. A work of art is the product of the inspired moment of the artist. It is not to be supposed that he is able to give an account of his work in the terms of the understanding. Hence the artist is not in a strict sense a critic. The highest order of criticism must endeavor to exhibit the unity of the work by showing how the various motives unfold from the central thought. Of course, the artist must be rare who can see his work doubly—first sensuously, and then rationally. Only some Michael Angelo or Goethe can do this. The common artist sees the sensuous form as the highest possible revelation—to him his _feeling_ is higher than the intellectual vision. And can we not all—critics as well as artists—sympathize with the statement that the mere calculating intellect, the cold understanding, “all light and no heat,” can never rise into the realm where art can be appreciated? It is only when we contemplate the truly speculative intellect—which is called “love” by the mystics, and by Swedenborg “Love and wisdom united in a Divine Essence,”—that we demur at this supreme elevation of feeling or sentiment. The art critic must have all the feeling side of his nature aroused, as the first condition of his interpretation; and, secondly, he must be able to dissolve into thought the emotions which arise from that side. If feeling were more exalted than thought, this would be impossible. Such, however, is the view of such critics as the Schlegels, who belong to the romantic school. They say that the intellect considers only abstractions, while the heart is affected by the concrete whole. “Spectres and goitred dwarfs” for the intellect, but “beauty’s rose” for the feeling heart. But this all rests on a misunderstanding. The true art critic does not undervalue feeling.