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. Nevertheless, allow that soul-felt genius can triumph over them all. Look on the death of St. Jerome, by Dominichino; that venerable frame is livid, emaciated; but life eternal fills his aspect; and the miseries of the world are here collected but to melt before the hallowed rays of devotion. Yet, dear Oswald, though I am not wholly of your mind, I wish to show you that even in differing, we have always some analogy. I have attempted a realization of your ideal in the gallery to which my brothers in art have contributed, and where I have sketched a few designs myself; you shall see the advantages and defects of the styles you prefer in my house at Tivoli. The weather is fine; shall we go there to-morrow?"--"My love, can you doubt my reply?" he exclaimed. "Have I another blessing in the world but you? The life I have too much freed from other occupations is now filled by the felicity of seeing and of hearing my Corinne!" [1] From a journal called "Europe," I have derived many valuable observations on painting--an inexhaustible subject for their author, M. Frederic Schlegel, and for German reasoners in general. CHAPTER IV.