Oswald could not, in all respects, agree with her; he was almost scandalized at seeing that Michael Angelo had attempted to represent the Deity himself in mortal shape; he did not think that we should dare embody Him; and could scarcely call up one thought sufficiently ethereal thus to ascend towards the Supreme Being, though he felt that images of this kind, in painting, always leave us much to desire. He believed, with Corinne, that religious meditation is the most heartfelt sentiment we can experience, and that which supplies a painter with the grandest physiognomical mysteries; but as religion represses all movements of the heart to which she has not given birth, the faces of saints and martyrs cannot be much varied. Humility, so lovely in the sight of Heaven, weakens the energy of earthly passion, and necessarily monotonizes the generality of scriptural subjects. When the terrible Angelo dealt with them, he almost changed their spirit, giving to his prophets that formidable air more suitable to heathen gods than to saints. Oft, too, like Dante, he mixed Pagan attributes with those of Christianity. One of the most affecting truths in its early establishment is the lowly station of the apostles who preached it, the slavery of the Jews, so long depositaries of the promise that announced the Saviour. This contrast between insignificance of means and greatness of result is morally beautiful. Yet in painting, where means alone can be displayed, Christian subjects must needs prove less attractive than those derived from the times of heroic fable. Of all arts, none save music can be purely religious. Painting cannot be content with an expression indefinite as that of sound. It is true that a happy combination of colors, and of _clair-obscure_, is harmony to the eye; but as it shows us life, it should give forth life's strong and varied passions. Undoubtedly, such passages of history ought to be selected as are too well known to be unintelligible: facts must flash on us from canvas, for all the pleasures the fine arts bestow are thus immediate; but with this equality provided, historical pictures have the advantage of diversified situation and sentiments. Nevil asserted, too, that a preference should be given to scenes from tragedies, or the most touching poetic fictions, so that all the pleasures of imagination might thus unite. Corinne contended against this opinion, seducing as it was; convinced that the encroachment of one art upon another would be mutually injurious. For sculpture loses by attempting the groups that belong to painting; painting, by aspiring to dramatic animation. The arts are limited, not in their powers but in their means. Genius seeks not to vanquish the fitness of things which its glory consists in guessing. "You, my dear Oswald," said Corinne, "love not the arts for themselves, but as they accord with your own feelings; you are moved merely when they remind you of your heart's afflictions. Music and poetry better suit such a disposition than those which speak to the eye, however ideally; they can but please or interest us while our minds are calm and our fancy is free. We need not the gayety which society confers in order to enjoy them, but the composure born of soft and radiant climes. We ought, in the arts that represent exterior objects, to feel the universal harmony of nature, which, while we are distressed, we have not within ourselves."--"I know not," answered Oswald, "if I have sought food for my sorrows in the arts, but at least I am sure that I cannot endure their reminding me of physical suffering. My strongest objection against Scripture pictures is the pain I feel in looking on blood and tortures, however exalted the faith of their victims. Philoctetus is, perhaps, the only tragic subject in which such agonies can be admitted; but with how much of poetry are his cruel pangs invested! They are caused by the darts of Hercules; and surely the son of Esculapius can cure them. His wounds are so associated with the moral resentment they stir in that pierced breast, that they can excite no symptom of disgust. But the _Possessed_, in Raphael's 'Transfiguration' is disagreeable and undignified. We would fain discover the charm or grief, or fancy it like the melancholy of prosperity. It is the ideal of human fate that ought to appear. Nothing is more revolting than ensanguined gashes or muscular convulsions. In such pictures we at once miss and dread to find exactitude of imitation. What pleasure could such attempted fidelity bestow? it is always either more horrible or less lovely than nature herself."--"You are right, my Lord," said Corinne, "in wishing that these blots should be effaced from Christian pictures; they are unnecessary.