and fastening the eyes on the spot where
they should look. Even lifeless figures, as vessels and stools--let them
be drawn ever so correctly--lose all effect so soon as they lack the
resting upon their centre of gravity, and have a certain swimming and
oscillating appearance. The Raphael in the Dresden gallery (the only
greatly affecting picture which I have seen) is the quietest and most
passionless piece you can imagine; a couple of saints who worship the
Virgin and Child. Nevertheless, it awakens a deeper impression than
the contortions of ten crucified martyrs. For beside all the resistless
beauty of form, it possesses in the highest degree the property of the
perpendicularity of all the figures." This perpendicularity we demand of
all the figures in this picture of life. Let them stand on their feet,
and not float and swing. Let us know where to find them. Let them
discriminate between what they remember and what they dreamed, call a
spade a spade, give us facts, and honor their own senses with trust.

But what man shall dare tax another with imprudence? Who is prudent? The
men we call greatest are least in this kingdom. There is a certain fatal
dislocation in our relation to nature, distorting our modes of living
and making every law our enemy, which seems at last to have aroused all
the wit and virtue in the world to ponder the question of Reform. We
must call the highest prudence to counsel, and ask why health and beauty
and genius should now be the exception rather than the rule of human
nature? We do not know the properties of plants and animals and the
laws of nature, through our sympathy with the same; but this remains the
dream of poets. Poetry and prudence should be coincident. Poets should
be lawgivers; that is, the boldest lyric inspiration should not chide
and insult, but should announce and lead the civil code and the day's
work. But now the two things seem irreconcilably parted. We have
violated law upon law until we stand amidst ruins, and when by chance we
espy a coincidence between reason and the phenomena, we are surprised.
Beauty should be the dowry of every man and woman, as invariably as
sensation; but it is rare. Health or sound organization should be
universal. Genius should be the child of genius and every child should
be inspired; but now it is not to be predicted of any child, and nowhere
is it pure. We call partial half-lights, by courtesy, genius; talent
which converts itself to money; t