Michael Angelo’s Creator, in the several acts of calling light out of darkness, and enduing man with life; and the other great conceptions in the roof of the Sistine chapel, occupy the first rank among these works of genius. Raffaelle’s Vision of Ezekiel is conceived in the same spirit, and his Madonna of San Sisto[153], in my mind, far exceeds all other Madonnas in glory, though the place is a high one, which may justly be claimed for Titian’s Assumption[154]. The same painter’s Peter Martyr[155], Domenichino’s Saint Jerome[156], Francia’s Saint Sebastian[157], may be named as some of the most important works which form this grand and very distinct division of the Epic class of pictures; it also comprehends Raffaelle’s lovely Madonna del Pesce[158], Christ’s Agony in the Garden by Correggio[159], and all those pictures where angelic natures are introduced. Of examples for the second division, the best and greatest, as far as we may judge from description, were the works of Polygnotus. When he introduced the tutelary deity and protecting heroes of Athens into the battle of Marathon, he was inspired by the same genius that led Raffaelle in the Stanze to send forth Saint Peter and Saint Paul to turn back the host of barbarians from Rome. The descent of Ulysses to the kingdom of Pluto, is another example of which I have already spoken. The Wars with the Giants of Mycon, and some other artists, and all subjects of apotheosis belong to this class. I cannot cite the Wars of the Giants by Julio Romano, in Mantua, as a successful example of a modern rendering of the subject. And, in truth, after the Pagan gods ceased to be objects of devotion, the Greek and Roman mythologies were of infinitely too gay a character to inspire a painter with any but the most jocund and graceful compositions. The Parnassus of Raffaelle, and his Psyche of the Farnesina[160], are charming examples of this. But these should form the chief of a very delightful class of pictures which cannot justly be called Epic, but which have fully as little title to their old name of historical pictures. Reynolds called his exquisite pictures of children, fancy subjects. But the term FANCY, in this sense is grown, very undeservedly, as I think, into disrepute; or I should say it would designate perfectly the pictures I am now seeking a name for. Among them are Titian’s whole families of Dianas and Venuses, of Loves and Graces; the rival Auroras of Guido and Guercino; Paulo Veronese’s and Luini’s Europas; Annibale Caracci’s Farnese; Poussin’s classical compositions, and some others which seem to deserve a place very near the Venus Anadyomene of Apelles and Zeuxis’ Helen. I am aware that I am not adhering strictly to my own classification, but I have not the presumption to propose an absolute rule. That must be for some one who, with the authority of a critic and an artist, can command attention and reverence enough to enforce a new arrangement.