In the midst of these magnificent porticos, which afford an asylum to so many wonders of art, there are fountains, which, flowing incessantly, seem to tell us how sweetly the hours glided away two thousand years ago, when the artists who executed these masterpieces were yet alive. But the most melancholy impression which we experience at the Vatican, is in contemplating the remains of statues which are collected there: the torso of Hercules, heads separated from the trunks, and a foot of Jupiter, which indicates a greater and more perfect statue than any that we know. We fancy a field of battle before us, where time has fought with genius; and these mutilated limbs attest its victory, and our losses.
After leaving the Vatican, Corinne conducted him to the Colossi of Mount Cavallo; these two statues represent, as it is said, Castor and Pollux. Each of the two heroes is taming with one hand a fiery steed. These colossal figures, this struggle between man and the animal creation, gives, like all the works of the ancients, an admirable idea of the physical power of human nature. But this power has something noble in it, which is no longer found in modern society, where all bodily exercises are for the most part left to the common people. It is not merely the animal force of human nature, if I may use the expression, which is observable in these masterpieces. There seems to have been a more intimate union between the physical and moral qualities among the ancients, who lived incessantly in the midst of war, and a war almost of man to man. Strength of body and generosity of soul, dignity of features and boldness of character, loftiness of stature and commanding authority, were ideas almost inseparable, before a religion, entirely intellectual, had placed the power of man in his mind. The human figure, which was also the figure of the gods, appeared symbolical; and the nervous colossus of Hercules, as well as every other ancient statue of this sort, do not convey vulgar ideas of common life; but an omnipotent and divine will, which shews itself under the emblem of a supernatural physical force.
Corinne and Lord Nelville finished the day with a visit to the studio of Canova, the greatest modern sculptor. As it was late when they got there, they were shewn it by torch light; and statues improve much in their effect by being seen in this manner. The ancients appear to have been of this opinion, since they often placed them in their Thermæ, where day could not enter. By the light of the flambeaux, the shadows being more full, the uniform lustre of the marble was softened, and the statues appeared as so many pale figures, possessing a more touching character of grace and life. There was, in the studio of Canova, an admirable statue destined for a tomb, which represented the genius of grief leaning upon a lion, the emblem of strength. Corinne, in contemplating the figure of grief, thought she discovered in it some resemblance to Oswald, and the artist himself was struck with it; Lord Nelville turned about to avoid this kind of notice; but he said in a low voice to his fair companion, "Corinne, I was condemned to a fate like that which is here represented, when I met with you; but you have changed my existence, and sometimes hope, and always an anxiety mixed with charm, fills that heart which was to suffer nothing but regret."
Chapter iii.
The masterpieces of painting were then all collected together at Rome, whose riches in this respect surpassed that of all the rest of the world. There could exist only one disputable point as to the effect produced by this collection, namely, whether the nature of the subjects chosen by the Italian artists, afford a scope for all the variety and all the originality of passion and character which painting can express? Oswald and Corinne were of contrary opinions in this respect; but this, like every other opposition of sentiment that existed between them, was owing to the difference of nation, climate, and religion. Corinne affirmed that the most favourable subjects for painting were religious ones[26]. She said that sculpture was a Pagan art, and painting a Christian one; and that in these arts were to be found, as in poetry, the distinguishing qualities of ancient and modern literature. The pictures of Michael Angelo, the painter of the Bible, and of Raphael, the painter of the Gospel, suppose as much profound thought, as much sensibility as are to be found in Shakespeare and Racine: sculpture can only present a simple, energetic existence, whilst painting indicates the mysteries of reflection and resignation, and makes the immortal soul speak through transient colours. Corinne maintained also that historical or poetical facts were rarely picturesque. In order to comprehend such subjects, it would often be necessary to preserve the practice of painters of old, and write the speech of each personage in a ribbon proceeding out of the mouth. But religious subjects are instantly understood by everybody, and attention is not removed from the picture to guess what it represents.
Corinne was of opinion that the expression of modern painters was often theatrical, and that it bore the stamp of their age, in which was no longer found, as in Andrea Mantegna, Perugino, and Leonardo da Vinci, the unity and simplicity which characterised the repose of the ancients; a repose to which is joined that profundity of sentiment which is the characteristic of Christianity. She admired the artless composition of Raphael's pictures, especially those in his first manner. All the figures are directed towards one principal object, without any contrivance on the part of the artist to group them in various attitudes in order to produce a laboured effect. Corinne said that this sincerity in the arts of the imagination, as well as in every other, is the true character of genius; and that studied efforts for fame are almost always destructive of enthusiasm. She maintained that there was rhetoric in painting as well as in poetry, and that all those who could not embody character called every accessory ornament to their aid, uniting rich costumes and remarkable attitudes to the attraction of a brilliant subject, whilst a single Virgin holding a child in her arms, an attentive old man in the Mass of Bolsena, a man leaning on his stick in the School of Athens, or Saint Cecilia with her eyes lifted up to heaven, produced the deepest effect by the expression of the countenance alone. These natural beauties increase every day more and more in our estimation; but on the contrary, in pictures done for effect, the first glance is always the most striking.
Corinne added to these reflections an observation which strengthened them: which was, that the religious sentiments of the Greeks and Romans, and the disposition of their minds, being in every respect absolutely foreign from ours, it is impossible for us to create according to their conceptions, or to build upon their ground. They may be imitated by dint of study; but how can genius employ all its energies in a work where memory and erudition are so necessary? It is not the same with subjects that belong to our own history and our own religion. Here the painter himself may be inspired; he may feel what he paints, and paint what he has seen. Life assists him to imagine life; but in transporting himself to the regions of antiquity, his invention must be guided by books and statues. To conclude, Corinne found that pictures from pious subjects, impart a comfort to the soul that nothing could replace; and that they suppose a sacred enthusiasm in the artist which blends with genius, renovates, revives, and can alone support him against the injustice of man and the bitterness of life.
Oswald received, in some respects, a different impression. In the first place, he was scandalized to see the Deity represented as he is by Michael Angelo, in human form and feature. It was his opinion that thought dare not give Him shape and figure, and that hardly at the very bottom of the soul could be found an idea sufficiently intellectual, sufficiently ethereal to elevate it to the Supreme Being; as to subjects taken from the Holy Scripture, it seemed to him that the expression and the images left much to be desired. He thought, with Corinne, that religious meditation is the most intimate sentiment that man can experience; and in this respect, it is that which furnishes the painter with the deepest mysteries of physiognomy and expression; but as religion represses every emotion which does not proceed immediately from the heart, the figures of the saints and martyrs cannot admit of much variety. The sentiment of humility, so noble in the face of heaven, weakens the energy of terrestrial passions and necessarily gives monotony to most religious subjects. When Michael Angelo applied his terrible genius to those subjects, he almost changed their essence by giving to his prophets a formidable expression of power more becoming a Jupiter than a Saint. He, like Dante, often avails himself of the images of Paganism and blends the heathen mythology with the Christian religion. One of the most admirable circumstances attending the establishment of Christianity, is the lowly estate of the apostles who have preached it, and the misery and debasement of the Jewish people, so long the depositaries of the promises that announced the coming of Christ. This contrast between the littleness of the means and the greatness of the result, is in a moral point of view, extremely fine; but in painting, which exhibits the means alone, Christian subjects must be less dazzling than those taken from the heroic and fabulous ages. Among the arts, music alone can be purely religious. Painting cannot be confined to so abstract and vague an expression as that of sound. It is true that the happy combination of colour, and of chiaro-oscuro produces, if it may be so expressed, a musical effect in painting; but as the latter represents life, it should express the passions in all their energy and diversity. Undoubtedly it is necessary to choose among historical facts, those which are sufficiently known not to require study in order to comprehend them; for the effect produced by painting ought to be immediate and rapid, like every other pleasure derived from the fine arts; but when historical facts are as popular as religious subjects, they have the advantage over them of the variety of situations and sentiments which they recall.
Lord Nelville thought also, that scenes of tragedy and the most moving poetical fictions, ought to claim a preference in painting, in order that all the pleasures of the imagination and of the soul might be united. Corinne combated this opinion, fascinating as it was. She was convinced that the encroachment of one art upon another was mutually injurious. Sculpture loses the advantages which are peculiar to it when it aspires to represent a group of figures as in painting; painting when it wishes to attain dramatic expression. The arts are limited in their means, though boundless in their effects. Genius seeks not to combat that which is in the essence of things; on the contrary, its superiority consists in discovering it.—"As for you, my dear Oswald," said Corinne, "you do not love the arts in themselves, but only on account of their relation with mind and feeling. You are only sensible to that which represents the sorrows of the heart. Music and poetry agree with this disposition; whilst the arts which speak to the eyes, though their signification be ideal, only please and interest us when the soul is tranquil and the imagination entirely free; nor do we require, in order to relish them, that gaiety which society inspires, but only the serenity which beautiful weather and a fine climate diffuse over the mind. We must be capable of feeling the universal harmony of nature in those arts which represent external objects; this is impossible when the soul is troubled, that harmony having been destroyed in us by calamity."—"I know not," replied Oswald, "whether my taste in the fine arts be confined to that alone which can recall the sufferings of the soul; but I know, at least, that I cannot endure the representation of physical pain. My strongest objection," continued he, "against Christian subjects in painting, is the painful sensations excited in me by the image of blood, wounds, and torture, notwithstanding the victims may have been animated by the noblest enthusiasm. Philoctetus is perhaps the only tragical subject in which bodily ills can be admitted. But with how many poetical circumstances are his cruel pangs surrounded? They have been caused by the arrows of Hercules. They will be healed by the son of Æsculapius. In short, the wound is almost confounded with the moral resentment produced in him who is struck, and cannot excite any impression of disgust. But the figure of the boy possessed with a devil, in Raphael's superb picture of the Transfiguration, is a disagreeable image, and in no way possesses the dignity of the fine arts. They must discover to us the charm of grief, as well as the melancholy of prosperity; it is the ideal part of human destiny which they should represent in each particular circumstance. Nothing torments the imagination more than bloody wounds and nervous convulsions. It is impossible in such pictures not to seek, and at the same time dread, to find the exactness of the imitation. What pleasure can we receive from that art which only consists in such an imitation; it is more horrible, or less beautiful than nature herself, the moment it only aspires to resemble her."