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artistic　whole；　and　tries　to　translate　those　impressions　into

words；　to　give；　as　it　were；　the　literary　equivalent　for　the

imaginative　and　mental　effect。　　He　was　one　of　the　first　to　develop

what　has　been　called　the　art…literature　of　the　nineteenth　century；

that　form　of　literature　which　has　found　in　Mr。　Ruskin　and　Mr。

Browning；　its　two　most　perfect　exponents。　　His　description　of

Lancret's　REPAS　ITALIEN；　in　which　'a　dark…haired　girl；　〃amorous　of

mischief；〃　lies　on　the　daisy…powdered　grass；'　is　in　some　respects

very　charming。　　Here　is　his　account　of　'The　Crucifixion；'　by

Rembrandt。　　It　is　extremely　characteristic　of　his　style：…





Darkness　…　sooty；　portentous　darkness　…　shrouds　the　whole　scene：

only　above　the　accursed　wood；　as　if　through　a　horrid　rift　in　the

murky　ceiling；　a　rainy　deluge　…　'sleety…flaw；　discoloured　water'　…

streams　down　amain；　spreading　a　grisly　spectral　light；　even　more

horrible　than　that　palpable　night。　　Already　the　Earth　pants　thick

and　fast！　the　darkened　Cross　trembles！　the　winds　are　dropt　…　the

air　is　stagnant　…　a　muttering　rumble　growls　underneath　their　feet；

and　some　of　that　miserable　crowd　begin　to　fly　down　the　hill。　　The

horses　snuff　the　coming　terror；　and　become　unmanageable　through

fear。　　The　moment　rapidly　approaches　when；　nearly　torn　asunder　by

His　own　weight；　fainting　with　loss　of　blood；　which　now　runs　in

narrower　rivulets　from　His　slit　veins；　His　temples　and　breast

drowned　in　sweat；　and　His　black　tongue　parched　with　the　fiery

death…fever；　Jesus　cries；　'I　thirst。'　　The　deadly　vinegar　is

elevated　to　Him。



His　head　sinks；　and　the　sacred　corpse　'swings　senseless　of　the

cross。'　　A　sheet　of　vermilion　flame　shoots　sheer　through　the　air

and　vanishes；　the　rocks　of　Carmel　and　Lebanon　cleave　asunder；　the

sea　rolls　on　high　from　the　sands　its　black　weltering　waves。　　Earth

yawns；　and　the　graves　give　up　their　dwellers。　　The　dead　and　the

living　are　mingled　together　in　unnatural　conjunction　and　hurry

through　the　holy　city。　　New　prodigies　await　them　there。　　The　veil

of　the　temple　…　the　unpierceable　veil　…　is　rent　asunder　from　top　to

bottom；　and　that　dreaded　recess　containing　the　Hebrew　mysteries　…

the　fatal　ark　with　the　tables　and　seven…branched　candelabrum　…　is

disclosed　by　the　light　of　unearthly　flames　to　the　God…deserted

multitude。



Rembrandt　never　painted　this　sketch；　and　he　was　quite　right。　　It

would　have　lost　nearly　all　its　charms　in　losing　that　perplexing

veil　of　indistinctness　which　affords　such　ample　range　wherein　the

doubting　imagination　may　speculate。　　At　present　it　is　like　a　thing

in　another　world。　　A　dark　gulf　is　betwixt　us。　　It　is　not　tangible

by　the　body。　　We　can　only　approach　it　in　the　spirit。





In　this　passage；　written；　the　author　tells　us；　'in　awe　and

reverence；'　there　is　much　that　is　terrible；　and　very　much　that　is

quite　horrible；　but　it　is　not　without　a　certain　crude　form　of

power；　or；　at　any　rate；　a　certain　crude　violence　of　words；　a

quality　which　this　age　should　highly　appreciate；　as　it　is　its　chief

defect。　　It　is　pleasanter；　however；　to　pass　to　this　description　of

Giulio　Romano's　'Cephalus　and　Procris'：…





We　should　read　Moschus's　lament　for　Bion；　the　sweet　shepherd；

before　looking　at　this　picture；　or　study　the　picture　as　a

preparation　for　the　lament。　　We　have　nearly　the　same　images　in

both。　　For　either　victim　the　high　groves　and　forest　dells　murmur；

the　flowers　exhale　sad　perfume　from　their　buds；　the　nightingale

mourns　on　the　craggy　lands；　and　the　swallow　in　the　long…winding

vales；　'the　satyrs；　too；　and　fauns　dark…veiled　groan；'　and　the

fountain　nymphs　within　the　wood　melt　into　tearful　waters。　　The

sheep　and　goats　leave　their　pasture；　and　oreads；　'who　love　to　scale

the　most　inaccessible　tops　of　all　uprightest　rocks；'　hurry　down

from　the　song　of　their　wind…courting　pines；　while　the　dryads　bend

from　the　branches　of　the　meeting　trees；　and　the　rivers　moan　for

white　Procris；　'with　many…sobbing　streams；'





Filling　the　far…seen　ocean　with　a　voice。





The　golden　bees　are　silent　on　the　thymy　Hymettus；　and　the　knelling

horn　of　Aurora's　love　no　more　shall　scatter　away　the　cold　twilight

on　the　top　of　Hymettus。　　The　foreground　of　our　subject　is　a　grassy

sunburnt　bank；　broken　into　swells　and　hollows　like　waves　（a　sort　of

land…breakers）；　rendered　more　uneven　by　many　foot…tripping　roots

and　stumps　of　trees　stocked　untimely　by　the　axe；　which　are　again

throwing　out　light…green　shoots。　　This　bank　rises　rather　suddenly

on　the　right　to　a　clustering　grove；　penetrable　to　no　star；　at　the

entrance　of　which　sits　the　stunned　Thessalian　king；　holding　between

his　knees　that　ivory…bright　body　which　was；　but　an　instant　agone；

parting　the　rough　boughs　with　her　smooth　forehead；　and　treading

alike　on　thorns　and　flowers　with　jealousy…stung　foot　…　now

helpless；　heavy；　void　of　all　motion；　save　when　the　breeze　lifts　her

thick　hair　in　mockery。



From　between　the　closely…neighboured　boles　astonished　nymphs　press

forward　with　loud　cries　…





And　deerskin…vested　satyrs；　crowned　with　ivy　twists；　advance；

And　put　strange　pity　in　their　horned　countenance。





Laelaps　lies　beneath；　and　shows　by　his　panting　the　rapid　pace　of

death。　　On　the　other　side　of　the　group；　Virtuous　Love　with　'vans

dejected'　holds　forth　the　arrow　to　an　approaching　troop　of　sylvan

people；　fauns；　rams；　goats；　satyrs；　and　satyr…mothers；　pressing

their　children　tighter　with　their　fearful　hands；　who　hurry　along

from　the　left　in　a　sunken　path　between　the　foreground　and　a　rocky

wall；　on　whose　lowest　ridge　a　brook…guardian　pours　from　her　urn　her

grief…telling　waters。　　Above　and　more　remote　than　the　Ephidryad；

another　female；　rending　her　locks；　appears　among　the　vine…festooned

pillars　of　an　unshorn　grove。　　The　centre　of　the　picture　is　filled

by　shady　meadows；　sinking　down　to　a　river…mouth；　beyond　is　'the

vast　strength　of　the　ocean　stream；'　from　whose　floor　the

extinguisher　of　stars；　rosy　Aurora；　drives　furiously　up　her　brine…

washed　steeds　to　behold　the　death…pangs　of　her　rival。





Were　this　description　carefully　re…written；　it　would　be　quite

admirable。　　The　conception　of　making　a　prose　poem　out　of　paint　is

excellent。　　Much　of　the　best　modern　literature　springs　from　the

same　aim。　　In　a　very　ugly　and　sensible　age；　the　arts　borrow；　not

from　life；　but　from　each　other。



His　sympathies；　too；　were　wonderfully　varied。　　In　everything

connected　with　the　stage；　for　instance；　he　was　always　extremely

interested；　and　strongly　upheld　the　necessity　for　archaeological

accuracy　in　costume　and　scene…painting。　　'In　art；'　he　says　in　one

of　his　essays；　'whatever　is　worth　doing　at　all　is　worth　doing

well'；　and　he　points　out　that　once　we　allow　the　intrusion　of

anachronisms；　it　becomes　difficult　to　say　where　the　line　is　to　be

drawn。　　In　literature；　again；　like　Lord　Beaconsfield　on　a　famous

occasion；　he　was　'on　the　side　of　the　angels。'　　He　was　one　of　the

first　to　admire　Keats　and　Shelley　…　'the　tremulously…sensitive　and

poetical　Shelley；'　as　he　calls　him。　　His　admiration　for　Wordsworth

was　sincere　and　profound。　　He　thoroughly　appreciated　William　Blake。

One　of　the　best　copies　of　the　'Songs　of　Innocence　and　Experience'

that　is　now　in　existence　was　wrought　specially　for　him。　　He　loved

Alain　Chartier；　and　Ronsard；　and　the　Elizabethan　dramatists；　and

Chaucer　and　Chapman；　and　Petrarch。　　And　to　him　all　the　arts　were

one。　　'Our　critics；'　he　remarks　with　much　wisdom；　'seem　hardly

aware　of　the　identity　of　the　primal　seeds　of　poetry　and　painting；

nor　that　any　true　advancement　in　the　serious　study　of　one　art　co…

generates　a　proportionate　perfection　in　the　other'；　and　he　says

elsewhere　that　if　a　man　who　does　not　admire　Michael　Angelo　talks　of

his　love　for　Milton；　he　is　deceiving　either　himself　or　his

listeners。　　To　his　fellow…contributors　in　the　LONDON　MAGAZINE　he

was　always　most　generous；　and　praises　Barry　Cornwall；　Allan

Cunningham；　Hazlitt；　Elton；　and　Leigh　Hunt　without　anything　of　the

malice　of　a　friend。　　Some　of　his　sketches　of　Charles　Lamb　are

admirable　in　their　way；　and；　with　the　art　of　the　true　comedian；

borrow　their　style　from　their　subject：…





What　can　I　say　of　thee　more　than　all　know？　that　thou　hadst　the

gaiety　of　a　boy　with　the　knowledge　of　a　man：　　as　gentle　a　heart　as

ever　sent　tears　to　the　eyes。



How　wittily　would　he　mistake　your　meaning；　and　put　in　a　conceit

most　seasonably　out　of　season。　　His　talk　without　affectation　was

compressed；　like　his　beloved　Elizabethans；　even　unto　obscurity。

Like　grains　of　fine　gold；　his　sentences　would　beat　out　into　whole

sheets。　　He　had　small　mercy　on　spurious　fame；　and　a　caustic

observation　on　the　FASHION　FOR　MEN　OF　GENIUS　was　a　standing　dish。

Sir　Thomas　Browne　was　a　'bosom　cronie'　of　his；　so　was　Burton；　and

old　Fuller。　　In　his　amorous　vein　he　dallied　with　that　peerless

Duchess　of　many…folio　odour；　and　with　the　heyday　comedies　of

Beaumont　and　Fletcher　he　induced　light　dreams。　　He　would　deliver

critica