In so far, then, as the aspect of an individual human state of soul-life is concerned in this universal condition we find that the unique Love, which blesses and discovers its heaven within it, tends to rise over all that is finite and the specific individuality of character, which lapses into a position of insignificance. Already we have observed that the divine ideals of sculpture pass into one another, always provided, however, that they are not wrested from the content and province of that original and immediate type of individuality; and yet it must be admitted that this individuality remains the essential form of the mode of presentment. In this later pure gleam of blessedness, however, particularity is on the contrary cancelled. Before God all men are equal, or rather piety makes them actually equal, so that the sole point of importance is the expression of love in the concentrated focus above depicted, and which has no further need of happiness, or this or that particular object. No doubt religious Love, too, requires definite individuals as a condition of its existence, which possess also, apart from this experience, other spheres of existence; for the reason, however, that this soul-possessed state of intimate life supplies the really ideal content, the expression and reality of such are not to be found in the isolated distinctions of character, its talents, conditions, and fortunes, but are rather lifted above the same. When consequently nowadays we hear people make a regard for distinctions in the soul-life of different persons a matter of first importance in education, and in that which is the essential requirement of each man individually, from which we deduce the fundamental thesis that every one will and indeed inevitably must act differently in a given case, such a position directly clashes with the fact of the love of religion, in which all such diversities of individual life fall into the background. Conversely, however, individual characterization now, precisely for the reason that it is the unessential, which refuses wholly to fuse with the spiritual realm of celestial Love, receives a more emphatic definition. In other words, agreeably to the romantic type of art, it is free, and is written in character all the more distinct in proportion as it refuses to accept as its supreme principle classical beauty, that is the entire transfusion of immediate vitality, and the particularity of finite existence, with a spiritual or religious content. In despite of this fact, however, there is no absolute reason that this individual characterization should impair this inward intensity of Love, which, as such on its own account, is not shackled to such features, but has become free, and constitutes independently the truly self-substantive Ideal of Spirit.
What, then, constitutes the ideal centre and main content of the religious field is, as we have already indicated in our examination of the romantic type of art, the essentially reconciled and satisfied Love, whose object should appear in the art of painting, whose function it is to exhibit the most spiritual content under the mode of human and corporeal actuality, as no mere "beyond" of Spirit, but in its veritable presence. In conformity with such a result we may adduce the Holy Family, and above all the love of the Madonna to her child as the ideal content pre-eminently fitted to this sphere. On either side of this centre, however, a mass of additional material extends which is in varying degree less adapted in this sense to the art in question. I will now attempt to differentiate the whole of this material on the following lines.
(αα) The first objectification is the object of Love itself in its pure universality and unimpaired unity with itself—God Himself in His unphenomenal essence—or God the Father. In this case, however, painting has great difficulties to overcome, when it attempts to depict God the Father as the religious imagination of Christendom seeks to grasp Him. The Father of gods and men regarded as a particular personality is exhaustively dealt with by art in Zeus. What on the contrary falls away from the Christian conception of God the Father is the human individuality, in which painting is alone in a position to reproduce the spiritual aspect. For taken in His independent self-exclusion God the Father is no doubt spiritual personality and supreme Power, Wisdom and so forth, but only retained as such without defined form and as an abstraction of thought. The art of painting is, however, unable to avoid anthropomorphization, and must perforce assign to Him the figure of man. However broad in its generalization, however lofty, ideal, and masterful the presentment of such a figure may be, we fail to get beyond the fact that it is entirely a human individual of more or less grave aspect, which fails entirely to coalesce with the conception of God the Father. Among the early Flemish painters Van Eyck in his God the Father of the altar picture at Ghent has attained the greatest success that we can conceive as possible in this sphere. It is a creation that may well match our conception of the Olympian Zeus. But however consummate it may be also in its expression of eternal repose, loftiness, power, worth, and other qualities—and it is quite impossible to overstate the depth and imposing character of its conception no less than its execution—yet our imagination cannot fail to find something in it which does not satisfy. For what is here set before us as God the Father, that is to say a creation that is likewise human personality, is just what we first meet with in Christ the Son. It is in Him that we contemplate for the first time this decisive moment in which individuality and human existence combine as a moment in the Divine Life[254], and moreover combine in such a way that the same is not disclosed as an ingenious creature of the phantasy, as was the case with the Greek divinities, but as essential and very revelation, the fact of all importance and fundamental significance.
(ββ) The more essential object, therefore, of Love in the creation of painting will be Christ. In other words, with this object Art at once finds itself in the sphere of humanity, a sphere which along with Christ embraces further material in its presentations of the Virgin Mary, Joseph, John the Baptist, the disciples, and so forth, and ultimately the common folk who in part are followers of the Gospel, and in part cry out for the crucifixion of its Master and mock Him in His sufferings.
And here once more the already mentioned difficulty confronts us how we are to conceive and depict Christ in his universality, when he is presented in the ordinary way of half-length figures or portraits. I must admit that for myself at any rate, the heads of Christ I have seen by Caracci and others and, to take two famous examples, that of Van Eyck, formerly in the Sully Collection and now in the Berlin Museum, and that of Von Hemling, now in Munich, do not give me the entire satisfaction which they ought to do. That of Van Eyck, no doubt, is very imposing in figure, forehead, colour, and general conception, but the mouth and eye wholly fail to express anything that transcends our humanity. The expression is rather that of an inflexible seriousness, which is emphasized by the general type of the form, the parting of the hair, and other traits. And when such heads incline still further in expression and shape towards the specifically human type, and a milder, more yielding and tender aspect is thereby imported, much of their depth and power of impression is very readily lost; and least of all suited to such, as I have already observed, is the beauty of Greek form.
For this reason Christ, as depicted in the experiences of His actual life, is a more suitable subject for pictorial effort. Yet in this connection an essential distinction must not be overlooked. It is quite true that in the biographies of Christ we have from one point of view the human consciousness of God presented us as a fundamental aspect. Christ is one of the gods, but under the guise of an actual man, and takes His place among men as one of them, in whose phenomenal appearance He can consequently be depicted in so far as such expresses the life of Spirit. From another point of view, however, he is not merely an individual man, but entirely God. In such situations, therefore, in which this supreme Divinity forces its way beyond the limits of human soul-life, the art of painting is met with a fresh source of difficulty. The very depth of the content begins to be too overpowering. For in the majority of cases in which we find Christ presented for example merely as a teacher, art will not pass much beyond the point in which He is depicted as the noblest, most worthy, and wisest of men, much as Pythagoras or any other wise man, is presented to us in such a picture as Raphael's "School of Athens." The most important way in which painting can overcome such a difficulty is to bring the Divinity of Christ mainly into direct contrast with His surroundings, and above all, to contrast it with the sins, the repentance and penance, or the meanness and evil of our humanity, or again conversely through His worshippers, who, by their adoration of Him remove Him as one of themselves and a man, existing in a particular place, from such immediate conditions, so that we behold Him exalted to the heaven of Spirit, and at the same time get a glimpse of the fact that His appearance has not merely been that of God, but also that of the human form under its ordinary and natural, in other words, not wholly ideal conditions, who as Spirit essentially possesses his existence in our humanity and the human community, and expresses His divinity as reflected in the same. But we must not understand this reflection as though God is present in humanity as in a purely accidental or external mode of form and expression; rather we ought to regard the Spirit manifested in the consciousness of mankind as the essential spiritual existence of God Himself[255]. Such a mode of presentation will be exceptionally appropriate where Christ is to be represented as man, teacher, as the risen and glorified person who ascends up to heaven before our eyes. To speak plainly, in situations such as these the means of expression in painting such as the human form and its colour, the countenance, the glance of eye, are not wholly sufficient to express all that is implied in the Christ. And least of all will the antique beauty of forms suffice. In particular the resurrection and ascension, and generally, all scenes in the life of Christ, in which He, the individual man, is already divested of immediate existence as such on His return to His Father, require a more elevated expression of Divinity than the art of painting is able to supply, for the reason that it ought to cancel the very means it uses in its representation, that is, the expression of human soul-life in its external form, and glorify the same in a light of purer quality.
Consequently, we shall find those scenes of Christ's life treated with greater advantage and more fitting effect in which He Himself has not yet arrived at the full consummation, or where His Divinity appears to be obstructed and depressed in the moment of negation. And this we find is the case in His childhood and the Passion. That Christ as a child expresses definitely from a certain point of view the significance which attaches to Him in religion. He is God Who becomes man, and Who consequently passes through the stages of man's natural life. In another aspect of the same fact that He is presented to our minds as a child we are led to feel the practical impossibility of disclosing entirely to us all that He essentially is. And it is just here that the art of painting possesses the incalculable advantage of being able to show how the loftiness and dignity of Spirit can shine forth from the naïveté and innocence of the child, which in some measure derives actual force from such a contrast, and in part, for the very reason that it is predicated of an infant, is to an infinitely less extent required by us in comparison with that we look for in Christ as man, teacher, and judge of the world. In this way the examples of Christ the babe which we find in Raphael's pictures, and above all, that in the Sistine Madonna picture at Dresden, offer us the most beautiful presentment of childhood. We are, however, aware in them also of a tendency to pass beyond merely childlike innocence, a passage which discloses quite as much the Divine already present in the opening sheath, as it enables us to surmise the expansion of such Divinity to an infinite fulness of revelation, a revelation the incompleteness of which in the child carries with it its own justification. In the Madonna pictures of Van Eyck, on the contrary, the Divine babe is the least successful feature, for they are in general stiff and emphasize the defective form of a newly-born child. It has been attempted to regard this as allegorical and intentional. They are not to be fair in aspect because it is not the beauty of the Christ babe which is that which is adorable, but the Christ as Christ. Such a mode of thought is not consonant with the true aim of Art, and the babes of Raphael regarded as works of art are in this respect of far higher rank.
In the same way the history of Christ's passion, such as the scenes where He is mocked and crowned with thorns, that of the Ecce Homo carrying the cross, deposition, and burial, are exceptionally appropriate to pictorial presentment. For in these it is precisely the Divinity, in its contrast to its triumph and in the depression of its unlimited power and wisdom, which supplies the content. Art is not merely able to present this, but there is ample room for the play of originality in the composition of such scenes without falling into purely fantastical imagery. God is here set before us as suffering, in so far as He is man and under certain determinate bounds. Such pain is not merely disclosed as human pain over human calamity, but it is an awful suffering, the feeling of an infinite negativity, albeit in human form, as the conscious life of one individual. And withal there is added, for the reason that it is God who suffers, a certain sense of alleviation, a reduction of such anguish which is thus unable to break forth in actual despair, distortion, and horror. This expression of soul-suffering is, more particularly in the works of several Italian masters, an original creation. The pain is in the lower portions of the countenance, a gravity of mien, and nothing more, not as in the Laocoon a contraction of the muscles, which can be interpreted as an actual cry; but in the eyes and on the forehead the billows of soul-anguish are, so to speak, allowed to roll over one another. The sweat drops that bespeak the heart's agony stand forth; and with true instinct on the brow, in which the immovable bone constitutes the determining feature, precisely at the point where nose, eyes, and forehead coalesce, and the life of mind and heart is concentrated and emphasized, we find that just one or two indications of skin-folds and muscles, unable to be distorted to any great extent, are suffered pre-eminently to bear and express in tension this accumulated weight of agony. In particular I can recall a certain head in the gallery of Schleisheim, in which the master—I fancy Guido Reni[256]—and doubtless others in a similar way, have discovered a distinct colour tone for the flesh, which is quite unlike that of human flesh. They had to disclose the night of the Spirit and created for the same a dowry of colour, most admirably adapted to express this tempest, these black clouds of Spirit which are likewise encompassed by the brazen forehead of the Divine Nature[257].
As the most perfect subject of such painting, however, I have already affirmed that Love, which is essentially satisfied, whose object is no purely spiritual Beyond, but one actually present, so that we can behold Love itself in its object. The highest and most unique form of such a Love is that of the Virgin Mother for her Christ child, the love of the one mother who has brought forth the Saviour of the world and carries Him in her arms. This is the content of most loveliness to which we may say Christian art generally and pre-eminently the painter's art in the religious sphere has been exalted.
The love of God, and more expressly[258] that of which Christ is the object, is of an entirely spiritual type. Its object is only visible to the eyes of the soul, so that in these cases we do not in the strict sense get the reciprocity which is bound with the notion of Love, and moreover there is no natural tie which secures the lovers and from its origin binds them to each other. Every other type of love, to put the matter conversely, remains in some measure accidental in its incidence, and in another aspect of it the lovers possess, as, for instance, sisters, or the father's love for his children, yet further relations outside this particular one, which assert an essential claim upon them. A father or brothers are compelled to direct their attention to the world, the State, affairs or war, in one word universal ends; the sister becomes wife, mother, and so forth. In the case of a mother's love of her child, on the contrary, the love is from its very nature neither something that is contingent, nor is it merely a single phase[259]. It is its highest earthly type, in which its natural character and its most sacred function immediately coalesce. From the point of view, however, in which as a rule in maternal love the mother sees and feels at the same time her husband in her child, we may observe that this aspect, too, in the Virgin Mary's case disappears. Her feeling has nothing in common with a wife's love for her wedded husband; on the contrary her relation to Joseph is rather that of a sister, and on the side of Joseph a feeling of respectful reverence for the Child that is God's and Mary's. We therefore find that religious love is set forth in its fullest and most ideal[260] human form, not in that for Christ amid His sufferings, nor in His resurrection, nor as He delays His departure among His friends, but in the emotional nature of a woman, in Mary. Her entire soul and life is human love for the Child, which she calls her own, and along with it adoration, and love of God with whom she feels herself thus united[261]. She is humble before God, and yet is steeped in the infinite exaltation that she is the single one among maidens who is above all blessed. Not alone and apart, but only in her Child is she made perfect in God, but in that, whether it be by the cradle or as queen of heaven, she is entirely content and blessed, without passion and yearning, with no other want, with no other aim to have or possess anything but that which she possesses.