101. The imitator rises above the copyist by generalizing the individual
to a class; the idealist mounts above the imitator by uniting classes.
102. The imitator, by comparison and taste, unites the scattered limbs
of kindred excellence; the idealist, by the "mind's eye," fixes,
personifies, embodies possibility: modes and degrees of single powers
are the province of the former; the latter unites whatever implies no
contradiction in an assemblage of varied excellence.
_Coroll._--This is best explained by the Ilias. Each individual of Homer
forms a class, and is circumscribed by one quality of heroic power;
Achilles alone unites their different energies.
The height, the strength, the giant-stride and supercilious air of Ajax;
the courage, the impetuosity, the never-failing aim, the never-bloodless
stroke of Diomedes; the presence of mind, the powerful agility of
Ulysses; the velocity of the lesser Ajax; Agamemnon's sense of
prerogative and domineering spirit,--assign to each his separate class
of heroism, yet lessen not their shades of imperfection. Ajax appears
the warrior rather than the leader; Ulysses is too prudent to be more
than brave; the hawk more than the eagle predominates in the son of
Oileus; Agamemnon has the prerogative of power, but not of heroism;
Diomede alone might appear to have been raised too high, had he been
endowed with an assuming spirit. So far the poet found, ennobled,
classified; but all these he sums up, and creates an ideal form from
their assemblage, in Achilles:--he is the grandson of Jupiter, the son
of a goddess, the favourite of Heaven--[22]"What arms can fit me but the
shield of Ajax? The lance maddens not in the grasp of Diomede to chase
the flames from the ships. Let him confer with thee, Ulysses, and the
rest." Such is his language. Before the pursuer of Hector vanishes the
velocity of Ajax; from destroying Agamemnon he is prevented by Minerva;
he gives his armour to the son of Menœtius, and disperses all but the
gods; his spear none can throw, and none tear from the ground when
thrown; a miracle alone can save those that oppose him singly; when else
he fights, 'tis not to gain a battle, but to subvert Troy.
What Achilles is to his confederates, the Apollo, the Torso, the
statues[23] of the Quirinal, are to all other known figures of gods, of
demi-gods and heroes.
103. Fancy not to compose an ideal form by mixing up a mass of
promiscuous beauties; for, unless you consulted what was homogeneous and
what was possible in Nature, you have hatched only a monster: this, we
suppose, was understood by Zeuxis when he collected the beauties of
Agrigentum to compose a perfect female.[24]
104. If there be any thing serious in art, it certainly then ought to be
exerted when religion is the subject; but idolaters and iconoclasts seem
to have conspired, either to banish the author of their faith to the
cold sphere of mythology, or to debase him to the dregs of mankind.
_Coroll._--Majesty is the feature of the Supreme Being; no eternal
Father of the moderns approaches the majesty of Jupiter.
The gods of Michael Angelo are stern. The gods of Raffaelle are affable
and weak. The gods of Guido have the air of ancient courtiers.
In the race of Jupiter, majesty is tempered by emanations of beauty and
of grace, but never softened into love.
The Christ of Michael Angelo is severe. The Christ of Raffaelle is
poised between the heraldry of church tradition and the dignified
mildness of his own character. The Christ of Guido is a well suspended
corpse.
"The character corresponding with that of Christ," says a critic and a
painter,[25] "is a mixture of the characters of Jupiter and Apollo,
allowing only for the accidental expression of the moment." What magic
shall amalgamate the superhuman airs of Rhea's and Latona's sons with
sufferings and resignation? The critic, in his exultation, forgot the
leading feature of his master--humility.
Whatever be the ideal form of Christ, the Saviour of mankind, extending
his arm to relieve the afflicted, the hopeless, the dying, is a subject
that comes home to the breast of every one who calls himself after his
name:--the artist is in the sphere of adoration with the Christian.
A great and beneficent character, eminently exerting unknown healing
powers over the family of disease and pain, claims the participation of
every feeling man, though he be no believer:--the artist is in the
sphere of sentiment with the Deist or Mahometan.
But a mean man marked with the features of a mean sect, surrounded by a
beggarly ill-shaped rabble and stupid masks--is probably a juggler that
claims the attention of no one.
The Resurrection of Christ derives its interest from its rapidity, the
Ascension from its slowness.
In the Resurrection, the hero, like a ball of fire, shoots up resistless
from the bursting tomb, and scatters terror and astonishment,--what
apprehension could not dream of, what the eye had never beheld, and
tongue had never uttered, blazes before us,--tumultuous agitation rends
the whole. Such is the spirit of the Resurrection by Raffaelle.
The Ascension is the last of many similar scenes: no longer with the
rapidity of a conqueror, but with the calm serenity of triumphant power,
the hero is borne up in splendour, and gradually vanishes from those
who, by repeated visions, had been taught to expect whatever was
amazing. Silent and composed, with eyes more absorbed in adoration than
wonder, they followed the glorious emanation, till addressed by the
white-robed messengers of their departed King.
105. We are more impressed by Gothic than by Greek mythology, because
the bands are not yet rent which tie us to its magic: he has a powerful
hold of us, who holds us by our superstition or by a theory of honour.