The hero of Ravenna lies stretched upon his back in the hollow of
a bier covered with laced drapery; and his head rests on richly
ornamented cushions. These decorative accessories, together with the
minute work of his scabbard, wrought in the fanciful mannerism of the
_cinquecento_, serve to enhance the statuesque simplicity of the
young soldier's effigy. The contrast between so much of richness in
the merely subordinate details, and this sublime severity of treatment
in the person of the hero, is truly and touchingly dramatic. There is
a smile as of content in death, upon his face; and the features are
exceedingly beautiful--with the beauty of a boy, almost of a woman.
The heavy hair is cut straight above the forehead and straight over
the shoulders, falling in massive clusters. A delicately sculptured
laurel branch is woven into a victor's crown, and laid lightly on the
tresses it scarcely seems to clasp. So fragile is this wreath that
it does not break the pure outline of the boy-conqueror's head. The
armour is quite plain. So is the surcoat. Upon the swelling bust,
that seems fit harbour for a hero's heart, there lies the collar of an
order composed of cockle-shells; and this is all the ornament given
to the figure. The hands are clasped across a sword laid flat upon the
breast, and placed between the legs. Upon the chin is a little tuft of
hair, parted, and curling either way; for the victor of Ravenna, like
the Hermes of Homer, was [Greek: prôton hypênêtês], 'a youth of
princely blood, whose beard hath just begun to grow, for whom the
season of bloom is in its prime of grace.' The whole statue is the
idealisation of _virtù_--that quality so highly prized by the
Italians and the ancients, so well fitted for commemoration in the
arts. It is the apotheosis of human life resolved into undying memory
because of one great deed. It is the supreme portrait in modern times
of a young hero, chiselled by artists belonging to a race no longer
heroic, but capable of comprehending and expressing the æsthetic charm
of heroism. Standing before it, we may say of Gaston what Arrian wrote
to Hadrian of Achilles:--'That he was a hero, if hero ever lived,
I cannot doubt; for his birth and blood were noble, and he was
beautiful, and his spirit was mighty, and he passed in youth's
prime away from men.' Italian sculpture, under the condition of the
_cinquecento_, had indeed no more congenial theme than this
of bravery and beauty, youth and fame, immortal honour and untimely
death; nor could any sculptor of death have poetised the theme more
thoroughly than Agostino Busti, whose simple instinct, unlike that of
Michelangelo, led him to subordinate his own imagination to the pathos
of reality.