Painting purifies people by its mute eloquence. The philosopher writes
his thoughts for those who can think and read. The painter shows his
thought to all who have eyes to see. That hidden and naked virgin,
Truth, the artist finds without seeking. He throws a veil over her,
encourages her to please, proves to her that she is beautiful, and when
he has reproduced her image he makes us take her, and takes her himself,
for Beauty.
In communicating to us what has been seen and felt by others, the
painter gives new strength and compass to the soul. Who can say of how
many apparently fugitive impressions a man's morality is composed, and
upon what depends the gentleness of his manners, the correctness of his
habits, the elevation of his thoughts? If the painter represents acts of
cruelty or injustice, he inspires us with horror. The 'Unhappy Family'
of Proudhon moves the fibres of charity better than the homilies of a
preacher.... Examples of the sublime are rare in painting, as the
painter is compelled to imprison every idea in a form. It may happen,
nevertheless, that moved by thoughts to which he has given no form, the
artist strikes the soul as a thunderbolt would the ear. It is then by
virtue of the thought perceived, but not formulated, that the picture
becomes sublime.