EIOGE ON BUFFON. 57 



without colour ; or that which produces in the spectator 

 the same ideas, the same sensations, the same emotions 

 as its model ? And who does not experience, in reading 

 Buffon, that the heart, seduced by the illusions of an 

 enchanting style, imagines that it sees Nature herself 

 in his descriptions, and feels, in effect, all the impres- 

 sions which its actual presence would produce ? Those 

 who study them with taste, never open, without a cer- 

 tain degree of veneration, the book where Nature is 

 represented in all its magnificence ; and the more the 

 mind is accustomed to meditate on these master-pieces, 

 the more is it gratified to find it again represented, so 

 majestic and sublime, in the pictures of Buffon. But 

 however strange one may be to knowledge of this de- 

 scription, it is sufficient to have some share of that 

 intelligence and sensibility of which few are destitute, 

 joined to the most common notions of all that the least 

 attentive eye remarks in Nature ; it is enough to see 

 and to feel, to recognise in Buffon all that Nature offers 

 of what is grandest and most majestic. Where is the 

 man, so indifferent to every kind of beauty, as not 

 sometimes to have experienced, while traversing forests, 

 pausing on the slope of a mountain, or viewing the ex- 

 panse of the sea from an elevated beach, this inexpres- 

 sible feeling of admiration, and the idea which then 

 springs up in the mind of the variety of beings and the 

 immensity of the universe ? Is there any one whom the 

 view of the beautiful nights of summer does not delight, 

 and throw into a state of tranquil meditation, or who 



