It is difficult to draw a strict line of division between the sciences, as they are usually called, and the arts, since in many branches of human knowledge, the two are so blended together, that it is impossible to make their separation complete. In common language, we apply the name of sciences to those departments of knowledge which, are more speculative, or abstract, in their nature, and which are conversant with truths or with phenomena, that are in existence at the time we contemplate them. The arts, on the contrary, are considered as departments of knowledge, which have their origin in human ingenuity, which depend on the active, or formative processes of the human mind, and which, without these, would not have existed. Our knowledge may be said to have been found out originally by discovery and invention. Discovery is the process of science; invention is the work of art. So common, however, is the connexion of the two with each other, that we find both a science and an, art involved in the same branch of study. For example, chemistry is a science depending on the immutable relations of matter, which relations must have existed, had there never been minds to study them. Yet these laws of matter would not have become the subjects of science, had not mankind invented the art of separating their agents, and making them cognizable to the senses. To build a ship, to construct a watch, or paint a picture, are all operations of art; yet they all have their foundation in a certain acquaintance with mathematical rules, and principles of natural philosophy. Those artists, who work with thorough knowledge of principles, we are accustomed to denominate scientific; while those, who experiment at random, or who blindly copy the results of others, we consider empirical. Thus it appears that an intimate connexion and dependence exists between sciences and arts, and it follows that the claim which they offer to our attention is in a great measure of the same kind. Of the latter, as well as the former, we already require some, as branches of a common education; while of the rest there are few which may not be advantageously studied, either as affording exercise for talents, discipline for taste, or practical advantage in the common concerns of life.

The connexion of the arts with the sciences is more common and obvious in modern times, than it was in the days of antiquity. During the process of civilization, or the whole period which elapses between barbarism and complete refinement, the arts have uniformly taken precedence both of science and literature. Rude nations commence the improvement of their state, by an attention to agriculture, to building, to navigation, and to sculpture. The want of an acquaintance with the real or scientific principles of these arts, obliges them to substitute the effects of manual labor and dexterity, for scientific method; and hence the paths in which they excel, have been usually of a different character from those of people whose knowledge and resources are greater. The ancients, who were but recently descended from barbarians, were obliged to make the most of small means, because the stock of previous or common information, from which they could draw, was extremely limited. The moderns have the accumulated learning of ages before them, and have only to select and apply their agents from among a multitude of means already discovered. The qualities, by which the former arrived at excellence, were more or less concentrated in individuals; while with us the means of excellence are recorded in books, and are at the disposal of communities. They possessed the quick eye, the expert hand, acute taste, and unwearied industry. For these we substitute preparatory science, economical computation, and mechanical power. Their processes differ from ours, as the process of the savage, who fashions and polishes his war-club by the truth of his eye, and the patience and dexterity of his hand, differs from that of the civilized mechanic, who turns the same kind of thing, in a hundredth part of the time, in a lathe, which another man has invented for him. The ancients were prodigal of means, and lavished men and treasures when any great work was to be accomplished. The moderns save expense, and labor, and time, in every thing. The economy of the ancients consisted in diminishing their personal wants; ours, in devising cheap means to gratify them. They prepared their soldiers for war by inuring them to hunger and fatigue; we, by keeping them well fed and clothed. Their stateliest edifices were destitute of chimneys and glass windows, yet, when left to themselves, they have stood for thousands of years. Ours abound in the means of making their present tenants comfortable, but are often built too cheaply to be durable. They conveyed water to their cities in immense horizontal channels, supported on arcades of prodigious elevation. We convey it over hills and under valleys in hydraulic pipes of the most trivial size. Wherever art could precede philosophy, the ancients have exhibited the grandest productions of genius and strength; but, in the application of philosophy to the arts, the moderns have achieved what neither genius nor strength, unassisted, could have performed. The imitative arts, and those which require only boldness and beauty of design, or perseverance in execution, were carried in antiquity to the most signal perfection. Their sculpture has been the admiration of subsequent ages, and their architecture has furnished models which we now strive to imitate, but do not pretend to excel. We might, if this were the place, add their poetry, and their oratory, to the list of arts which flourished in perfection during the youthfulness of intellectual cultivation. But in modern times, there is a maturity, a cautiousness, a habit of induction, which is founded on the advanced state of philosophic knowledge. Our arts have been the arts of science, built up from an acquaintance with principles, and with the relations of cause and effect. With less bodily strength, and probably with not more vigorous intellects, we have acquired a dominion over the physical and moral world, which nothing but the aid of philosophy could have enabled us to establish. We convert naturel agents into ministers of our pleasure and power, and supply our deficiencies of personal force by the application of acquired knowledge. Among us, to be secure, it is not necessary that a man should be powerful and alert; for even where laws fail, the weak take rank with the strong, because the weakest man may arm himself with the most formidable means of defence. The labor of a hundred artificers is now performed by the operations of a single machine. We traverse the ocean in security, because the arts have furnished us a more unfailing guide than the stars. We accomplish what the ancients only dreamed of in their fables; we ascend above the clouds, and penetrate into the abysses of the ocean.

The application of philosophy to the arts is a more fruitful theme, than can well be condensed into a limited work, or course of instruction. While it comprises some of the sources even of ancient refinement, it includes a great part of the grounds of modern superiority. The application of philosophy to the arts may be said to have made the world what it is at the present day. It has not only affected the physical, but has changed the moral and political condition of society. The invention of the printing-press dispersed the darkness of the middle ages, and carried truth and knowledge to every portion of the world. The artificial combination of sulphur, nitre, and charcoal, has revolutionized the customs and the arts of war, and, even in military life, has given the mind the advantage over the body. The moderns have imparted magnetism to a piece of steel, and suspended it on a pivot; and what has been the consequence? It has opened to them a path across unknown seas, and has disclosed a new continent to the inhabitants of the old, a successor to their arts and their power. It has developed the wealth of unknown islands, has brought the remotest countries together, and has made the ocean the resort and support of multitudes. Let any one, who would know what modern arts have accomplished, compare the repeating watch, and the unerring chronometer of the present day, with the rude sun-dial and clepsydra of the ancients. Let him consider the multiplied advantages which attend the manufacture of glass, which has enabled us to combine light with warmth in our houses; which has given sight to the aged, which has opened the heavens to the astronomer, and the wonders of microscopic life to the naturalist. Let him attend to the complicated engines and machinery, which are now introduced into almost every manufacturing process, and which render the physical laws of inert matter a substitute for human strength.

But it is not the contrast with antiquity alone, that enables us to appreciate the benefits which modern arts confer. In the present inventive age, even short periods of time bring with them momentous changes. Every generation takes up the march of improvement where its predecessors had stopped, and every generation leaves to its successors an increased circle of advantages and acquisitions. Within the memory of many who are now upon the stage, new arts have sprung up, and practical inventions, with dependent sciences; bringing with them consequences which have diverted the industry, and changed the aspect of civilized countries. The augmented means of public comfort and of individual luxury, the expense abridged and the labor superseded, have been such, that we could not return to the state of knowledge which existed even sixty years ago, without suffering both intellectual and physical degradation. At that time, philosophy was far distant from its present mature state, and the arts which minister to national wealth were in comparative infancy. No man then knew the composition of the atmosphere, or of the ocean. The beautiful and intricate machinery, which weaves the fabric of our clothing, was not even in existence. When George III. visited the works of Messrs. Boulton and Watt, at Birmingham, and was told that they were manufacturing an article of which kings were fond, and that that article was power; he was struck with the force and disadvantageousness of the comparison. Yet the steam-engine had not then been launched upon the ocean, and had developed only half its energies.

So long as the arts continue to exert the influence, and to yield the rewards, which they have hitherto done, there will be no want of competent minds and hands, to carry forward their advancement. With their increasing consequence, there must also be an increasing attention to their study and dissemination. Curiosity keeps pace with the interest and magnitude of its objects. And unless the character of the present age is greatly mistaken, the time may be anticipated as near, when a knowledge of the elements and language of the arts will be as essentially requisite to a good education, as the existence of the same arts is to the present elevated condition of society.